Purity in Death

  “Within an hour after it goes down.”

  “I can’t promise that. At the first possible opportunity.”

  “Good enough. I’ve got to go. And I was never here.”

  When the door was closed again, Eve slid in the new disc, ordered a run.

  She saw Greene’s balcony, saw the door swing open. He came out fast, he came out bloody. The image bobbled as the operator jerked at what he saw through his viewer, and she heard his gasping oath. But he was cool enough to zoom in.

  Yes, he looked like a monster, Eve thought. Blood literally dripping from his fingers, his hair. His mouth was wide, his eyes wild and red as a demon’s. He hacked at the air with the knife, beat a fist against his own head.

  He raced from one end of the terrace to the other, batting at the air as if swatting at insects. Then gripping the knife in both hands, he threw back his head. And plunged it into his own chest.

  “Holy shit.” Jamie stood in the doorway leading to Roarke’s office. His jaw was slack, his gaze riveted to Eve’s view screen.

  “Goddamn it. End run. That door was closed.”

  “Sorry. Roarke asked me to. . . I was just getting something for him and wanted to ask you—doesn’t matter.” He took a steadying breath, scrubbed the back of his hand over his mouth. “That’s the guy from yesterday, right? Yesterday’s homicide.”

  “You should be in the lab.”

  “I’m part of this team.” His chin came up. “My grandfather was a cop, and I’m going to be one. I’ve seen blood before. I killed a man.”

  “Shut up.” She snapped it out, striding over to close the door behind him. “There’s an official report, with my name on it, that states Alban was killed during the struggle to disarm and arrest. You want to fuck me over, Jamie, you keep saying you killed a man.”

  “I wouldn’t do anything to mess you up.” Something of what he felt for her, the core of love he tried to bury under a blanket of teenaged cool, surfaced on his face. “I’d never do that, Dallas.”

  Because she saw it, she eased back before it embarrassed them both. “Okay.”

  “This is between you and me. I know you kept me out of the briefing yesterday, and I can figure why. You didn’t think I should see something like that.” He nodded toward the screen. “The new guy, Trueheart, he’s what? Three years older than me? Maybe four. What’s the difference?”

  “He’s wearing a uniform.”

  “So will I.”

  She studied his face. Something in those gray eyes was already half-cop. “Yeah. Yeah, you will. Look, I’m not saying you can’t handle yourself. There’s a lot of bad shit out there. You see too much of it too soon, it can swallow you up before you get started.”

  “I’ve already seen a lot of it.”

  “There’s more that’s just as bad. There’s more that’s worse. You get through the Academy, you put on the uniform. That’s soon enough to start dealing with it.”

  “Okay.”

  “Now scram. And do me a favor. I’ve got a meeting, a private meeting in a few minutes. Keep everyone the hell out of here.”

  “Sure.” He grinned and looked terrifyingly young. “Trueheart’s got a little thing for you.”

  “Get out.”

  As he laughed, she gave him a shove and shut the door in his face. She went back to her desk, copied the disc for her files, then sealed the other for her commander.

  She took the rest of the time to update her evidence log, sealed that as well. Then organized her thoughts.

  At the knock on her door, she took a deep breath, and rose to open it for the city’s two top cops.

  Chapter 19

  “During the course of investigating the Greene/Wade homicides,” Eve began, “I found Greene’s financials didn’t jibe with his lifestyle. Even assuming a substantial unreported income through his alleged dealings in illegals and sexual services, purchases, and other assets accumulated over the previous year far exceeded any projected monies.”

  “You assumed he had another source,” Whitney put in.

  “Yes, sir. During the initial search and sweep of the premises—”

  “Lieutenant.” Tibble held up a hand to stop her. “Is there a reason you’re taking us down the long road here?”

  “I think my findings in this matter are going to require a solid foundation.”

  “Fine. But there’s no need for the formalities. Just lay it out.”

  “Yes, sir. We found a safe when we did the first pass. There wasn’t enough in it as review of the security tapes showed us three probable deals going down in his digs during the last week. He didn’t go out himself, so he wouldn’t have made any deposits. The guy dealt in cash primarily. No way he’s going to hand his take over to a teenager he found in a club and trust her to dump it into his safebox or dummy account. Had to be another cache in his place, just like there had to be another source of income. Given the type of clientele he serviced, blackmail seemed the most logical sideline.”

  “You felt this assumed sideline connected with Purity?” Tibble asked her.

  “It’s not enough to connect, to investigate the big picture. Each case has to be handled individually, by the numbers, or you miss details.”

  Tibble nodded. “Since we’re here, I assume you didn’t miss the details.”

  “I returned to Greene’s condo, with the civilian consultant. We located the second safe. I logged those contents at that time, and have updated the log as I reviewed those contents. It contained eight hundred and sixty-five thousand in cash, a code for a safebox at the Security National Bank, 88th Street branch, five data discs, and twelve video discs.”

  She gestured to her desk. “All contents are logged and sealed, as is my record of their confiscation from the safe.”

  “Since you’re being very cautious, Lieutenant, those contents must be hot.”

  She met Whitney’s eyes. “They are. The data discs contain his underground books. He kept good records. They also contain his daily journals. His deterioration from the infection is well documented on them, demonstrating increasing pain, paranoia, anger and confusion.”

  “And the vids,” Tibble said. “Blackmail?”

  “Yes, sir. I did ID search and matches on the individuals recorded by Greene. There’s little doubt they were unaware they were being recorded during their activities as said activities were extremely graphic in nature. Some of the recordings take place at an as yet unknown location, others in the spare bedroom at Greene’s condo. On those vids are a number of very prominent citizens recorded in compromising, illegal, and/or embarrassing sexual situations. Among them are a criminal court judge, the wife of a college professor and vocal Conservative Party supporter who I believe I can and will connect to Clarissa Price, a well-known media personality, and the Mayor of New York.”

  “Oh, Christ.” Tibble stared for a full five seconds, then pressed his fingers to his temples. “This is a confirmed ID on Peachtree?”

  “Yes, sir. I recognized him, but followed up with an image scan.”

  “Then it’s a fucking mess.” He dropped his hands. “All right, the idiot cheated on his wife and got recorded.”

  “Sir. It’s a little more . . . involved than straight adultery.”

  “Spell it out, Dallas,” Whitney said impatiently. “We’re grown-ups here.”

  “He was dressed in women’s clothes and had a sweaty sexual session with another man, which included a little dominance and punishment and, um, oral gratification and consummation.”

  “It just gets better and better.” As if tired, Tibble sat back, rested his head on the cushion of his chair as he studied the ceiling. “Mayor Steven Peachtree is a transvestite who was being blackmailed by a sex and illegals broker who’s now dead, and whose death was precipitated by a terrorist organization now responsible for seven murders.”

  “In a nutshell,” Eve agreed.

  “The media gets ahold of this . . .” He shook his head, pushed to his feet. He paced to her window. ?
??It’s over for him, one way or the other. Even the talented Chang won’t be able to spin him out of the toilet. The city’s in enough of an uproar without this. We keep it quiet, for now.”

  “I need to interview him, Chief, as well as the other individuals on vid.”

  Tibble looked over his shoulder, studied her face. “You believe Peachtree is involved in Purity? The Mayor, setting a terrorist organization loose on his own city? He may have shown extremely poor judgment in a personal matter, but he’s not stupid enough to piss in his own pool.”

  Why not? she thought. You use a sex broker to fulfill your dream-date fantasy, you’re stupid enough for anything. “I can’t make that determination until after he’s interviewed.”

  “You want to drag him into a major homicide investigation because he wore a goddamn bra.”

  She felt her patience drying up, hulling out like a grape in the sun. “Sir, I don’t care if he dresses up like a shepherdess and seduces his flock on his downtime. Unless doing so puts him into my case. It’s my allegation, as primary in this matter, that Purity has people of power, authority, and influence among their members. My request for a warrant to open sealed juvenile files has been blocked, and continues to be blocked beyond all reasonable objections. Warrants to view files at Child Services have also been blocked or denied. These blocks impede the forward course of my investigation.”

  “You found a way around them with Dukes.”

  She took a deep breath. “Yes, sir, I did. And I’ll continue to find ways around them. Seven people, including a police officer, are dead. I’ll continue to find a way until I have the answers and justice is served. The Mayor of New York is now a suspect in this investigation whether it suits you or not.”

  “Chief Tibble.” Whitney got to his feet, very nearly gave into the urge to step between them like a referee at a boxing match. “Lieutenant Dallas is right.”

  Tibble swung his searing gaze onto Whitney. “Do you think I don’t know she’s right? For Christ’s sake, Jack, I’ve carried tin longer than she’s been alive. I know she’s right. I also know we’ll be digging ourselves out of the fallout for months once this hits. Transvestite terrorist. Sweet Jesus, can you imagine what the media will do with it?”

  “The media doesn’t concern me.”

  Tibble turned to Eve. “If you want to climb up the ladder, it better. You’d be wearing bars now if you paid more attention to perception and image. You’ve made choices that have prevented you from being the youngest female captain in the NYPSD.”

  “Harry.”

  Tibble waved off Whitney’s quiet objection, turned away again. “I’ll apologize for that. This has blindsided me. I work with the man. I can’t say we’re friends, but we’re certainly friendly. I know his family. I believed I knew him. I’d like some coffee. Black, no sugar. If you don’t mind.”

  Eve said nothing, didn’t trust herself to speak. Instead she walked into the kitchen, programmed the AutoChef while temper warred with training.

  They could take their captain’s bars and shove them.

  She came back in. As Tibble was once again facing the window, she set his coffee on her desk, then handed Whitney a second cup.

  “Am I ordered to ignore the evidence that has come into my hands and detour from the investigative route that leads to Mayor Steven Peachtree?”

  “I have no doubt, Lieutenant,” Tibble said with his back to the room, “that were I to issue that order you would disobey said command or throw your badge in my face. As I believe you’re angry enough at the moment to choose the latter, I’ll apologize once again.

  “I had no right to personalize this, nor to take my frustrations out on you. I will say there are shades of right, Lieutenant Dallas, and the higher you climb, the more shades there are, and the deeper they get.”

  “I’m aware of the difficulty of the situation, and your position, Chief Tibble.”

  “But mostly you think it’s bullshit.” He spread his lips in the grin that had terrified both cop and criminal over the years. He walked over, picked up his coffee, and drank. “And mostly you’re right. No, Lieutenant, you are not ordered to ignore the evidence that came into your hands.”

  Without thinking, he sat behind her desk. “I am asking you to delay that interview until I speak with the mayor. Any portion of the conversation that is salient to your investigation will be relayed to you. It’s not just the man, but the office. The office requires some respect and protection. I hope you can trust me to separate man from office and conduct this preliminary questioning personally.”

  “I believe you’re more than capable of handling such questioning, sir. How do you want me to handle the other individuals identified on the videos?”

  “Discreetly. I need copies of those vids, your notes, and files.”

  “I have them available for you.”

  He took the evidence bag she offered. “Jack, it looks like we’re going to start the day with some porn.”

  “I ended mine with it,” Eve said and made Tibble roar with laughter.

  “Job’s never dull.”

  “How much am I cleared to tell my team?”

  “Trust is a two-way street. I leave that to you.” He rose. “If Peachtree’s part of this, we’ll take him down. You have my word on it.” He held out a hand.

  “We’ll take them all down, sir. You’ve got mine on that.”

  After they’d left, Eve called Peabody into her office.

  “Sit down,” she ordered, then as Tibble had done, she took the position of command behind her desk. “New data has come to light that may have a direct bearing on this investigation. I’m not free to share all the details of this data with you at this time, but you’ll be accompanying me today on what will be a number of sensitive interviews. Until I give you clearance, you’re to say nothing of this to other team members.”

  “You’re not bringing the team in?”

  “Not at this time. This is Code Five. Any record I order you to make will be sealed.”

  Peabody choked back the dozen questions leaping to her tongue. “Yes, sir.”

  “Before we start on this new round of interviews, we’ll do a followup with Dukes. He needs a push. And I figure to round off the day with Price and Dwier. Like, I don’t know, bookends.”

  “Is what’s between the bookends connected to the whole?”

  “It’s all connected. I’ll fill you in, as much as I’m able, on the way to the Dukes.”

  “Blackmail,” Peabody said at the first stoplight on route. “Greene sure had his fingers in a lot of nasty pies.”

  “Lucrative pies. Raked in over three million annually with this scam.”

  “You think Purity infected him because of the blackmail?”

  “Yeah, I do. Look at the others. Those were child predators. Greene, he dealt some in the adolescent arena, but the bulk of his clientele and employees were adults.”

  “You said you thought Purity would start expanding their criteria.”

  “And they will. Not this soon. There are plenty more in Fitzhugh’s ilk to keep them busy. Greene teeters on the line. I think someone, maybe more than one, had personal reasons for wanting Greene dead. Eliminating another scumbag was a factor, but ditching a blackmail payment, and the threat of exposure, makes a real nice bonus. But it was stupid. A mistake. Killing the blackmailer before you destroy the evidence that ties you to him.”

  “Can you tell me if Dukes was on the blackmail list?”

  “No. But he knows how it’s done. He knows who’s been infected or scheduled for infection. He’s part of the foundation, so we shake him. Or his wife. She’s a weak point.”

  “You think she’ll roll on him?”

  “She might, if she’s scared enough. She’s not a player, but she knows Dukes—his schedule, his habits. How else could she tailor the household to suit him? And if he thinks we’re pushing her, he might get pissed enough to slip up. He’s got a hot button.”

  Eve hunted up a parking spot, the
n jaywalked diagonally across the street toward the Dukes’s residence. The first thing she noticed were the wilted flowers by the door.

  “They’re gone.”

  Peabody followed the direction of Eve’s cold stare. “Maybe she forgot to water them.”

  “No, she wouldn’t forget. Probably has a daily duty list. Damn it. Damn it.” She rang the buzzer anyway, waited, rang again.

  “Curtains are still at the windows.” Peabody craned her neck to see inside. “Furniture’s still in there.”

  “They left it. Got out fast. They were probably packed and gone within twenty-four hours of our first visit.”

  She started working the street, knocking on doors until one opened for her. She offered her badge to a snowy-haired woman in a pink tracksuit.

  “Is something wrong? Has there been an accident? My husband—”

  “No, ma’am. Nothing’s wrong. I’m sorry to alarm you. I’m looking for some of your neighbors. The Dukes. They don’t answer their door.”

  “The Dukes.” She patted her hair as if to stir her thoughts. “I’m not sure I . . . oh, of course. Of course. I saw the story on the media report. Oh dear, you’re the policewoman they’re going to sue.”

  “I don’t believe any legal action has been taken as yet. Do you know where they are?”

  “Goodness. I don’t really know them. Pretty young woman. I’d see her walking to the market every Monday and Thursday. Nine-thirty. You could set your wrist unit by her. But now that you mention it, I don’t know the last time . . . They lost their older son, didn’t they? They only moved in two years ago. I never knew a thing about it. They didn’t really talk to any of the neighbors. Some people never do. It’s a terrible, terrible thing to lose a child.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I’d see him come and go now and then. Didn’t look like a very kind sort of man. On Sundays they’d all go out together. Ten o’clock sharp. To church, I imagine from the way they were dressed. Back by twelve-thirty. You never saw the boy playing outside, with other children. I never saw another child go into that house.”

  She sighed, staring across the street now. “I suppose they kept him close, afraid something would happen to him, too. Hold on, there’s Nita coming out. My jogging partner.”