“Now there’s a void. And voids need to be filled.”
“That’s correct, Detective.”
“Given their backgrounds, skills, and personalities, any one of them could fill it.”
“I’m not convinced on the personalities.” She pulled into the lot. “For now, let’s go in and screw up their day.”
The warehouse was busier than the day before. Machines beeped and buzzed, shapes and colors filled screens. People went about their business with black bands around bare arms or the sleeves of colorful tees.
Eve spotted Cill riding up a level in one of the glass-walled elevators. The long fall of black hair had been tamed into a single neat braid. She wore a black suit, and black dress shoes with short, squat heels.
Respectful, Eve mused. Sensible—and unless she missed her guess, new.
Out of curiosity, Eve tapped one of the techs. “Where can I find Cill?”
“Um. Her office? She’s been in there all morning.”
“Uh-huh. Thanks.”
She glanced at Peabody, then jerked a head toward the stairs. “Most of these people are in their own bubble, or in a bubble with whoever they’re working with. They don’t pop it unless they’re told to or need something. The alibis aren’t going to hold.”
They didn’t find Cill in her office, but in the break room where she sat alone, rubbing her left temple and staring into a power drink. Her head snapped up, and her knuckles whitened on the tube.
“You’re back. Does that mean—”
“No. Not yet.”
Her body slumped. “I don’t know why it matters so much. When you find out who killed Bart, he’ll still be dead. I don’t know why it matters.”
“Don’t you want to know who killed him?”
“Yeah. Yes. But . . . right now, it just doesn’t seem to matter. Sorry.” She waved a hand. “I’m just bottomed, I guess. Do you have more questions?”
“Actually, we’re here to notify you that we’ve obtained search warrants for your residence, and those of Benny and Var. They’ll be carried out this morning.”
“I don’t understand. You’re going to search my apartment?”
“That’s correct.”
“But why? For what?”
Eve watched her face change, those sharp green eyes fire, her cheeks flush with furious color. “You think I did this to Bart? To Bart? What the hell is wrong with you? You’re supposed to be ace-high at what you do, and you think I killed Bart?”
“No one’s accusing you. It’s necessary to explore all avenues.”
“That’s just bullshit. You’re getting nowhere so you start hassling us. You waste time with us while whoever killed him gets away with it.” Tears sparkled in her eyes for a moment, but the heat of temper burned them off.
“I thought it didn’t matter, finding Bart’s killer.”
“Don’t you even say his name to me.” Her voice spiked up; her fists clenched. “I don’t want you pawing through my things.”
“We have a warrant to search, and that warrant will be executed. It’s your right to be present during the search, and to have legal counsel or representation present.”
“You’re a stone bitch. I loved him. He was my family. We—Jesus God—we’re having his memorial service this afternoon. His parents are coming. I’ve been dealing with all the details, and now you come at us with this? You think I can just leave and go watch you get your rocks off poking into my private space?”
“Your presence is a right, not an obligation.”
“What’s going on?” Var rushed in with Benny right behind him. “Cilly, we could hear you on Mars. What’s going on?”
“Contact Felicity. We need to contact her right now. This excuse for a cop thinks we killed Bart.”
“What? Come on. No, she doesn’t.”
Var reached her first, squeezed her arm. Once again, Benny followed.
They flanked her. The three points of the triangle, Eve thought.
“What’s going on, Lieutenant?” Var asked.
“She’s going to search our apartments. This morning.”
“What for?” Benny stared at Eve as his arm went around Cill’s shaking shoulders.
“Is that legal?” Var looked from Eve to Peabody and back again. “I mean, don’t you have to ask or get a warrant? Something?”
“We have warrants. As a courtesy, I’m notifying you that these searches will take place this morning. None of you is being accused. We’re simply pursuing all avenues in the investigation.”
“You could’ve just asked.” Benny drew Cill closer, angled his long, skinny frame toward her. “We’d tell you anything you want to know. We have. It’s not right what you’re doing. It’s not right that you’d upset Cill like this, today of all days.”
“It’s Bart’s memorial.” Var pressed his lips together. “Couldn’t you just wait, one day? One day. His parents will be here. If they hear about this it’s only going to make it harder on them. God, isn’t it hard enough?” He turned away, stepped over to brace his hands on the counter. “We’re trying to do what’s right for Bart. What he’d want.”
“Yeah,” Eve said, “me, too.”
“He wouldn’t want you upsetting Cill,” Benny cut in. “He wouldn’t want you making us feel like suspects.”
“I’m not responsible for how you feel,” Eve said, deliberately harsh. “I’m responsible for the investigation. It’s within your rights to be present during the search, and to have a legal representative present.”
“I want Felicity,” Cill insisted.
“I’ll take care of it. I will,” Benny told her. “Don’t worry. We can’t all go, all be there.” He glanced over to Var. “We can’t all leave, especially today. You can go, Cill, if you’d feel better.”
“I can’t. I still have things to do for the memorial. I haven’t put it all together yet.”
“I can take care of that.”
“No.” She tipped her head to Benny’s chest briefly. “I need to stay and finish it.”
“You go, Benny.” Var turned back, sighed. “One of us should. Cill and I can handle things here. It’s just what they do, the police, I guess. Just what they have to do.”
“So, what, it’s not personal?” Cill snapped, then immediately closed her eyes. “Sorry. I’m sorry, Var.”
“It’s okay.” Weariness more than anger reflected on his pleasant face. “We’re all upset. Let’s just get it over with. Benny, maybe you could check at each of our places.”
“I can do that. I can do that, sure. I’ll go to your place first,” he told Cill. “I’ll be there when they start. Don’t worry about it.”
“My place is a mess.”
He smiled at her. “What else is new?”
“It doesn’t matter, does it?” She reached out, took Var’s hand so they were once again united.
“It’s just what they have to do,” Var said. “But I’ll get in touch with Felicity. You’re right, Cill, she should know.”
“Okay, that’s the plan.” Cill lifted her chin. “If that’s all, Lieutenant, we’d like you to go. We don’t want you here.”
“Your attorney can contact me directly if she wants to see a copy of the warrants.” She started out, giving a quick shake of her head in case Peabody spoke before they were clear of the building.
“Impressions?” Eve asked when they were in the vehicle.
“Well, Cill’s got a temper. A lot of heat there.”
“Passionate, territorial.”
“Yeah. Benny’s protective. He was pissed, too, but he pulled it back, tried to smooth it over with Cill.”
“He’s stuck on her.”
“Oh yeah, he is.” Peabody nodded. “Which makes him—since there’s no sign there’s anything going on there—controlled, maybe repressed. Var seemed rocked back on his heels initially, but he recovered. Pretty seriously pissed, too. He had to take a minute to pull himself together. Insulted. They all were. A lot of people react that way to search wa
rrants. Each of them took a role. Nobody stepped forward and said okay, you do this, you do that, I’ll take care of the other thing. Nobody’s established a clear leadership role yet.”
“It’s subtle, but it’s there.” Eve shrugged. “Then again, maybe I’m looking for it, projecting it.”
“Something else. Insulted and pissed, yeah, but none of them seemed especially worried about what we might find.”
“Tracks covered. Detail-oriented. But people never cover their tracks as well as they think. We’re not going to walk in and find the murder weapon in the closet, or an e-diary of the plot. But I think it’s going to be interesting, whatever we do find. We’ll start at Cill’s.”
She pulled up at the nondescript three-story building. “You know, they all live within easy walking distance of work and each other. Bart, he goes for a little jazz. Doorman, penthouse, multilevel. Not so fancy inside, but the foundation is. Cill goes for the loft. A little more bohemian. Not as many people living inside the building.”
“Good building security though,” Peabody pointed out.
“Yeah. I bet she had a hand in that. Who’s on this one?”
“I put Jenkinson and Reineke—they’re pretty clear after closing a case this morning. I’ve got McNab with them. I’ll check on their ETA.”
“Do that,” Eve said as her own ’link signaled. She lifted her brows as she scanned the readout. “That was quick,” she commented. “It’s the lawyer. Dallas,” she said.
She did the dance, then signaled for Peabody to go ahead inside when the team arrived. Before she’d finished with the lawyer, Benny came down the sidewalk at a steady jog.
Changed his shoes, she noted. He’d been wearing dress shoes with his memorial suit, as had his partners. Now he bolted up the short steps to the entrance in black-and-white running shoes that showed some wear.
She slid her ’link back in her pocket as he keyed himself in.
He’d never even noticed her, she mused. Too focused on the mission at hand.
She went in, and up an elevator designed to resemble an old cage type. But its guts were fully 2060. She ordered Cill’s third-floor loft, and obeyed the computer’s request for her name, her business, then a badge scan.
The team had already begun their work when she stepped into a wide and open living area. Benny stood, hands in his pockets. Fists, she corrected. Seriously pissed.
“She’s very private with outsiders,” he said to Eve. “This has really spun her out. She’s already down, and now this.”
“We all do what we have to do. A lot of space,” she added, glancing around at the bright, cheerful colors, the framed comp art, the triple screens, the cushy chairs.
“So what? It’s not a crime to like space.”
“Never said it was. You’ll want to chill, Benny. It’s going to be a long day.”
She wandered through, glanced at the kitchen, which appeared to actually be used to cook. A few dishes scattered the counter, the sink.
Eve opened the fridge, noted some brews, some soft drinks—heavy on the power type—water, milk that had expired the day before, some sort of lettuce that seemed to be wilting.
Hasn’t been shopping for a while, she thought.
“Do you expect to find a clue in the damn fridge?” Benny demanded.
Eve closed it, turned so they were face-to-face. She read passion on his, as bold and bright as his red dreads. “This is going to be harder on you if you try to pick a fight with me. I don’t mind a fight, but you’re going to end up losing, and potentially being hauled down to Central for interfering with a legal search.”
She left him stewing to walk through the loft. Lots of space, she thought again, lots of comfort. No frills, but still subtly female. Plenty of toys, game systems.
At first glance the office appeared to belong to a disorganized teenager, but Eve saw the method under the clutter. She’d bet a month’s pay Cill could put her hands on exactly what she wanted. On the far side of the office from the workstation was a screen and several game systems.
She could work on something, then try it out right here. Do her testing, her tweaking.
No guest room, she noted. Not much on company.
In the single bedroom, the sheets on the unmade bed were a tangle, projecting restless nights.
“She just bought the suit and shoes she had on.” Peabody turned from the closet. “The bags are in here, with the receipt. Just yesterday. It’s kind of sad. She doesn’t have another black suit, or much black at all in here. So I guess she felt she needed to get something appropriate.”
“Good-sized closet for a woman who didn’t own a black suit until yesterday.”
“A lot of costumes—con-wear—and work clothes if you’re in e. Couple of formal things, a couple cocktail type things. But mostly it’s work and play.”
With a nod, Eve slid open a bedside drawer. She found what she thought of as basic female self-serve sex tools, a scatter of unused memo cubes, and an e-diary.
“She kept a journal.”
“That’s private.” Benny stood in the doorway, fury vibrating off his skin. “If she wrote something in there, it’s private.”
“There’s nothing private now. I don’t care about her personal thoughts, unless they pertain to the investigation. And you’re making me think I might find something here that does.”
“That’s off. That’s so off. You don’t know her. She’s never hurt anyone in her life.”
“Then she doesn’t have to worry. Detective, log this in, and see that it’s transported with the other electronics to Central.”
“Yes, sir.” Peabody took the diary, slipped out.
“You want to take me on, Benny?” Eve said quietly. “You’ve got the training, so it might be an interesting fight. Before you’re charged with assaulting a police officer, with obstruction of justice, with interfering with a legal search. Do you want to spend Bart’s memorial in a cage?”
“I’m never going to forget this. Never.” He spun around, walked away.
“Bet you won’t,” Eve murmured.
She left the bedroom, crossed the length of the loft to Cill’s holoroom. To satisfy herself, she tried the log. Was denied.
She went in search of McNab. “I want the data from the holo-log as soon as you can get it. I want to know when she last used it, and what she used it for.”
“No problem. This place.” He let out a low whistle. “These people know how to live.”
“Yeah. Until they don’t. Peabody,” she called out. “With me.”
She opted to walk, and though Benny’s building was only a half a block away, chose to cover the three blocks to Var’s.
“Who’s on this one?”
“I put Carmichael, Foster, Callendar on this one. It’s supposed to storm tonight. Do you think it’s going to storm?”
“How do I know? Do I look like a forecaster?”
“I’ve got these great shoes to wear to Nadine’s party, but if it rains and we get stuck getting a cab or have to walk to the subway, they’ll get screwed.” Peabody searched the sky for answers. “If it storms I need to wear these pretty mag boots, but they’re not new. Plus the shoes are so totally uptown.”
“Peabody? Your footwear is of absolutely no interest to me, and at the moment the source of mild annoyance.”
“Since it’s only mild, let me continue. I sprang for a new outfit, too. It seemed like a good excuse for one. Nadine’s book, fancy deal. And the Icove case was ours. I’m in the book and all that. I want to look complete. What are you wearing?”
“I don’t know. I don’t care.”
“You have to.” To bring the point home, Peabody stabbed Eve’s arm with her finger. “You’re like the star of the book.”
“I am not the star of the book.” The idea was horrifying. “The case is the star of the book.”
“Who was in charge of the case?”
“I’m going to show you my current footwear, Peabody, up close when my boot connects w
ith your nose.”
“It’s usually my ass, so that’s a nice change.” She stopped, tipped down her shaded glasses to study Var’s building. “Post-Urban. One of those temps that became permanent. It’s in good shape, though. Good security again. He’s on the top two floors, roof access. I bet it’s a nice view from up on the roof.”
Inside, they rode up to ten.
“I bet you guys are taking a limo tonight,” Peabody said with some envy.
“I don’t know. I don’t care.”
“Easy not to care when you have a limo just by snapping your fingers.”
Eve sighed. She supposed it was. “Look, if I get you and McNab a limo will you stop whining, and say nothing more about your damn shoes or anything else about the damn party?”
Peabody let out a very uncoplike squeal and grabbed Eve in a hug before Eve could evade it. “Yes! Yes! Wow. Thanks, Dallas. Serious thanks. I can wear my new . . . I can stop having any concerns about the weather.”
Eve shoved her back, struggled to realign her dignity as they stepped out.
Var didn’t command the entire floor, but took the west side of it.
He went for more muted tones, she concluded. More masculine, and a style she found more restful than that of his other two partners. In furniture, he’d gone sleek leaning toward avant-garde, curved shapes, sharp angles.
Order, she mused, a certain style and clean to the point of shining. Unlike Cill he avoided clutter, but he shared her predilection for mega-e in comps, systems, screens, toys. A display held a collection of weapons—props, she noted, toys again. No reals.
She studied the contents of his fridge—all liquids. Wines, beers, soft and power drinks. He relied on the AutoChef for food and had that well-stocked. Like Bart’s, she mused, heavy on the pizza, burgers, tacos, sweets. Steaks, she noted, potato sides, big on fried.
Guy food.
“His place is neater than hers,” Peabody observed. “Seems more organized, and more stylish.”
“She has her own organizational style, but yes, tidier.”
She moved onto his office, where Callendar was already at work on the comps. She said, “Yo.”
“Nice setup.”
“Nice? Baby, it’s rocket. Like total command center. From the main comp, he can control all the systems, the screens, even the ones in other rooms. He can multitask, no problem, but he adds to those capabilities with the aux. Workstation’s equipped with built-in smart screen. Oh, he gets hungry? He can command the AutoChef here or in any of the rooms. Have one of the droids serve it up.”