Memory in Death

  “Why don’t we sit down?” Mira suggested. “Your husband’s condition has improved?”

  “Yes. They said he’ll need to stay in the hospital another day, maybe two, then we can go to out-patient status. I don’t really understand all the medical terms.”

  “I can help you with that, too.”

  “Look, I’ll be in the kitchen. I’ll get the coffee, get out of the way.”

  “I don’t mind if you stay,” Zana told Eve. “You know everything.”

  “I’ll get the coffee anyway, give you a minute.”

  Eve moved across the room, into the narrow alcove. And gee, she thought, if she pushed the wrong buttons on an unfamiliar AC unit, who could argue?

  She could hear Zana’s voice, the thickness in it of suppressed tears. Oh, you’re good, she decided. But I’m better.

  She ran a quick scan, replaying orders over the last twenty-four hours.

  Cheese, raspberries, popcorn—extra butter. Bet somebody watched vids last night, Eve thought. And a hearty breakfast this morning: Ham omelette, toast, coffee, and orange juice.

  She programmed for coffee, then eased open the minifriggie. Bottle of red wine, she noted. Maybe two glasses left in it. Soft drinks. Frozen nondairy dessert, double chocolate—half gone.

  Trauma and tragedy didn’t seem to be affecting Zana’s appetite.

  When she came back with the coffee, Zana was mopping at her face with a tissue. “It’s just one thing after the next,” she told Mira. “I can’t find my balance, I guess. We were coming here to have fun. Bobby wanted to treat me to a trip, to somewhere exciting I’d never been. Part of my Christmas present since his mama was so hot to come, you know. To talk to Eve, after all the years. And then, everything’s been so awful.”

  She began to shred the tissue so pieces of it fell like snow into her lap. “Poor Bobby, he’s been trying to be so strong, and now he’s hurt. I just want to make it easier on him. Somehow.”

  “I’m sure you are, just by being there for him. Still, it’s important that you look after yourself as well, and let yourself grieve for a woman you were close to. To go through that process, Zana. And to get rest, keep your health.”

  “I can’t even think of myself right now. How can I?”

  “I understand. It’s human to put ourselves to one side at times of crisis. Especially for women to do so,” Mira added and gave Zana’s hand a pat. “Bobby will need you, emotionally and physically in the days and weeks to come. It’s difficult—thank you, Eve—it’s difficult to lose a parent, any family member. But to lose one through violent means adds another layer, even more stress and grief. You’ve both had a shock, several in fact. I hope when you’re able to go back to Texas, you’ll find someone there to talk to. I can certainly give you a list of recommendations for counselors in your area.”

  “I’d so appreciate that. I wouldn’t even know where to start. I’ve never talked to a counselor before.”

  “You didn’t go to grief counseling when your mother died?” Eve asked.

  “Oh, no. I didn’t even think about it. It’s just not the kind of thing I was raised to think about, I guess. I just… I don’t know, went on, I guess. But this is different, I can see that. And I want to do what’s best for Bobby.”

  “Then you will.”

  “If I could have a minute, Zana. We’re having trouble with the numbers you gave us. The ones your abductor made you memorize.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “We’re not finding anything with those numbers. Actually, there are too many numbers. Do you think you could’ve gotten them mixed up, or added some?”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” Her hands fluttered up from her lap. “I was so sure. I kept repeating them over and over, like he said to. I even said them in my head after… after he left. But I was so scared. What should we do? What can I do?”

  “We could try hypnosis.” Eve took a sip of coffee, met Mira’s eyes over the cup. “That’s another reason I brought Dr. Mira by today, so you could meet her, feel comfortable with her if we went this route. Dr. Mira often assists the department with this kind of thing.”

  “It could be helpful.” Mira picked up the ball. “We could, under hypnosis, take you back to the abduction, take you through it, while making certain you feel safe and secure.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I just don’t know. Hypnosis.” She reached up, tangling her fingers in the trio of thin gold chains she wore around her neck. “I don’t know. The idea scares me some. I need to think about it. It’s hard right now to think of anything but Bobby.”

  “It would be a way to help us find whoever killed Bobby’s mother.” Eve pressed a little harder. “And knowing the person responsible has been identified, apprehended, and will pay for what was done helps the healing process. Dr. Mira?”

  “Yes, that’s very true. Why don’t I send you some information so you can see how this is approached? Help you understand the process a little better.”

  “That’d be okay, I guess. But gosh, I don’t know. Just the thought of going through that again, even in my mind. It really scares me. I’m not strong like you,” she said to Eve. “I’m just ordinary.”

  “Ordinary people do extraordinary things, every day.” But Mira smiled, rose. “I’ll get you that information, Zana, and I’d be happy to talk with you again, if you think I can help.”

  “Thank you so very much. Thank you. Both of you.” Zana got to her feet, held out both her hands to Eve. “It means a lot to know you’re working so hard for us.”

  “I’ll be in touch. I’ll arrange for transportation to the hospital. Someone will call up when it’s here. I’m going to try to get by to see Bobby, but if I don’t make it, give him my best.”

  “I will.”

  Eve waited until they were on the elevator. “What’s your take?”

  “I don’t know how helpful I’m going to be to you. Her actions and reactions are well within the expected range. Her responses plausible. I will say that—with your voice niggling in my ear—they were a bit too textbook. But the textbook was written simply because of these actions and reactions to trauma and violence.”

  “She balked at hypnosis.”

  “So do you,” Mira pointed out. “It’s often the first reaction to the suggestion.”

  “Me going under isn’t going to help find a killer. If she’d agreed to it, I’d‘ve lost a million-dollar bet with myself. She had popcorn last night.”

  “Comfort food.”

  “And a bottle of wine’s in there, nearly empty.”

  “I’d be surprised if she hadn’t had a few drinks.”

  “You’re right,” Eve said irritably. “You’re not being helpful. She had herself a big, fat breakfast, and I’m betting she hit room service for a nice meal last night.”

  “Not everyone goes off food with stress. People often use food as comfort, often overeating, in fact, to compensate. It can swing either way, Eve. We both know what you’ve got is instinct, and no evidence. Not even circumstantial at this point.”

  “Shit. See if I give you a ride home next time.”

  Eve got off the elevator, headed straight for security. “Have you got those room service orders?”

  “I do. Nothing from your men. Our guest ordered roast chicken with new potatoes and carrots. She also had a starter of crab salad, and ended with key lime pie. A bottle of merlot went with that, as well as a bottle of spring water.”

  “Good appetite,” Eve commented.

  “Yeah. Sounds like she’s working to keep her strength up.”

  Eve heard the cynicism, appreciated it. “I’m going to want a record of any calls she made on the room ‘link.”

  “I thought you would. Three outgoing. One to the hospital last evening, two to the hospital this morning. No incoming.”

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  Eve strode out. “Goddamn if somebody lolls around drinking wine and eating pie when her husband’s racked up in the hospital. Would you?”
r />   “No. And neither would you. But eating pie isn’t a crime, and I can’t tell you it’s out of the normal scope of reactions.”

  “How come she didn’t contact Bobby’s pal and partner to tell him Bobby was hurt?”

  “She might very well have done so, on her personal ‘link.”

  “Yeah, we’ll check that. I’m betting she didn’t. Didn’t get in touch because she didn’t want him heading out here, or keeping her tied up talking out the details, buzzing her back for updates. She wanted a little alone time with her fucking pie.”

  Mira laughed out loud before she could cough it away, and earned a scowl. “I’m sorry. I know it’s not funny, it was just such an image. You want a profile, I’ll give you one.”

  She got back in the car, strapped in. “The subject is a young, inexperienced woman, who appears used to—and amenable to—being told what she should do. She looks to her husband to make decisions, while she deals with the more domestic areas. This is her comfort zone. She enjoys attention while having a tendency to be skittish and shy. She has an orderly, tidy, and, I would say, submissive nature.”

  “Or she’s slipped that persona on like a skin-suit.”

  “Yes, or, if you’re right, Eve, this is a very clever, very calculating woman. One who would be willing to subvert her own nature for a considerable length of time in order to reach her goal. She’s been married to this man for several months, which brings them into a very intimate relationship every day. She knew and worked for him before that, was courted by him. Maintaining a pose contrary to her nature would be a very impressive feat.”

  “I’m prepared to be impressed. I’m not pushing aside other possibilities, other suspects,” she added. “I’m just adding her in.”

  And keeping her at the top of my list, Eve thought.

  * * *

  Chapter 18

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  BOBBY WAS SITTING UP IN BED WHEN EVE stepped into his room. His eyes were closed, and the entertainment unit was set, she assumed, for a book on disc. In any case, there were voices spilling out of it in what seemed to be an intense and passionate argument.

  If he was sleeping, he didn’t need to hear it. If he wasn’t, she needed his attention. So she stepped closer to the unit. “Pause program,” she ordered.

  In the sudden silence Bobby stirred, opened his eyes.

  “Zana? Oh, Eve. I must’ve nodded off. Sort of listening to a book. Crappy book,” he added with an attempt at a smile. “The nurse told me Zana was coming in soon.”

  “I just left her a little while ago. I’m having a couple of uniforms drive her to and from. It’s nasty outside.”

  “Yeah.” He looked out the window, his expression brooding.

  “So. How’re you feeling?”

  “I don’t know. Clumsy, stupid, annoyed to be here. Sorry for myself.”

  “You’re entitled.”

  “Yeah, that’s what myself s telling me. The flowers, the tree. It’s nice.”

  He gestured toward the little fake pine decorated with miniature Santas. To Eve’s mind, it looked like the jolly old elf had been hanged, multiple times, in effigy.

  “Zana told me you helped pick them out.”

  “Not really. I was just there.”

  “She thinks of stuff like that. Little things like that. This is a really, really shitty Christmas for her.”

  “For you, too. It sucks out loud, Bobby, and I’m going to add to it by asking you if you’ve thought of anything else, remembered anything. About what happened to your mother, about what happened to you.”

  “Nothing. Sorry. And I’ve had a lot of time to think, lying here like an idiot who can’t cross the damn street.” He let out a sigh, lifted the hand of his good arm, then let it fall. “A lot of time to think, about what you said, about what you said my mother did. Wanted to do. She really asked for money?”

  Eve moved closer to the bed so she could stand at its side and watch his face. “How much shit can you take?”

  He closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them again, she hoped what she saw in them was strength. “I might as well get it all dumped on me. I’ve got nothing better to do.”

  “Your mother had several numbered accounts, which were fed by funds she extorted from women she’d fostered as children.”

  “Oh, God. Oh, my God. There has to be a mistake, some kind of mix-up, misunderstanding.”

  “I have statements from two of these women that verify that your mother contacted them, threatened to expose their juvenile records unless they paid the amounts she demanded.”

  She watched the blows land on his already battered face, until he was staring at her, not with disbelief or shock, but with the focused concentration of a man fighting pain.

  “Statements,” he repeated. “Two of them.”

  “There’re going to be more, Bobby, when it’s done. She also informed my husband that she had copies of my files and would sell them to interested media sources unless he paid her. She’s been blackmailing former charges for a number of years.”

  “They were just kids,” he said under his breath. “We were all just kids.”

  “It’s possible she used one of her former fosters to aid her in her attempt to blackmail me, through Roarke, and was killed by this individual.”

  “I would never have let her do without. Whenever she wanted something I did what I could to get it for her. Why would she do this? I know what you’re thinking,” he said, and looked beyond her, toward the window again. “I understand what you’re thinking. You think she used and mistreated you when you were in her care, when you were a kid. So why not use and mistreat you now?”

  “Am I wrong, Bobby? Is something wrong with my memory?”

  His breath shuddered out softly. “No. She used to say, used to tell me that you—the kids she took in—were lucky to have someone offer them a decent home. Care enough to take them, to teach them manners and discipline and respect. That’s what she said it was when she locked you up. Consequences for unacceptable behavior. Things would be a lot worse if you were on the streets.”

  “Did you buy that, Bobby?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe some. She never hurt me.” He turned his head now, met Eve’s eyes. “She never treated me that way. She said it was because I did what I was told. But I didn’t, not always. If she caught me, she’d usually laugh and say, ‘Boys will be boys.’ It was the girls she… I don’t know why. Something inside her. She hated her mother. Used to tell me we were lucky to be rid of the old bitch. Maybe—I don’t know— maybe her mother did those things to her. It’s a cycle, right? Isn’t that what they say about abuse? It’s a cycle.”

  “Yeah, it often is.” Maybe that comforted him, she thought. “What about you, Bobby? Did you cycle around, take care of your mother? She must’ve been a hardship on you. New wife, new business, and here’s this demanding woman, prying into your life. A demanding woman with a big pile of money stashed away.”

  His eyes filmed over for a moment. Tears he blinked away. “I don’t blame you for saying it, thinking it. And you can put on record that I’ll take a Truth Test. I’ll take one voluntarily, as soon as you can arrange it. I want you to find who hurt her.”

  He took a long breath. “I loved my mother, Eve. I don’t know if you can understand, but even knowing what she was, what she did, I loved her. If I’d known what she was doing, I’d have found a way to make it stop. To make her give the money back, and stop. That’s what I want to do. Give the money back. You have to help me get the money back to the people she took it from. Maybe it won’t make it right, but I don’t know what else to do.”

  “Yeah, I can help you with that. How would you have made her stop, Bobby?”

  “I don’t know. She’d listen to me. If she knew I was really upset, she’d listen to me.” Now he sighed a little. “Or pretend to. I don’t know anymore. I don’t know how to tell Zana all this. I don’t know how to tell her this is true. She’s already been through so much.”


  “She was tight with your mother.”

  “They got along. Zana gets along with everyone. She made a real effort with my mother—it takes one.” He tried another smile.

  “You know, women get tight in a certain way. When they do, they tend to tell each other things they might not tell a man. Could it be your mother told Zana about what she was doing?”

  “Not possible.” He tried to sit up straighter, as if to emphasize his point, and cursed the restriction of his broken arm. “Zana’s… she’s scrupulous. I don’t know anyone as intrinsically honest. She might not have argued with my mother about it, but she’d have been horrified, and she’d have told me. We don’t have secrets.”

  People said that, Eve knew. But how did they know the other party didn’t have secrets? How did they know there’d been full disclosure?

  “Zana the type to keep her word?”

  His face was full of love. “Probably cut off a finger before she’d break it.”

  “Then she’d be in a tough spot if she’d given your mother her word not to tell you, or anyone.”

  He opened his mouth, closed it, and Eve could see him wrestling with this new possibility. “I don’t know how she’d have dealt with it. But she’d have told me, at least after my mother was killed. She’d never have kept that to herself. I wonder where she is.” His fingers began to tug at the sheet. “I thought she’d be here by now.”

  “I’ll check in a minute, make sure she’s on her way. They say when they’re springing you?”

  “Not before tomorrow, but I’m pushing for that. I want to salvage something of Christmas. It’s our first, probably told you that. At least I bought a couple of things here, so Zana will have something to open. Man, this—how did you put it? Oh, yeah, this sucks out loud.”

  Reaching into the pocket of her coat, Eve brought out a little bag. “Thought you might like these. Cookies,” she said as she put the bag in his good hand. “I figure they might not run to Christmas cookies around here.”