Born in Death

  She turned, scowled at him. “What?”

  “Well done.”

  “Huh. Thanks.” She raised her eyebrows at Roarke as they went inside. “I’ve got to tag Peabody, make sure the prisoners are secured, check in with Baxter on-scene, and round it out with Reo and Smith.”

  “Yes, of course. After you’ve had some sleep.”

  “Loose ends dangling.”

  “That can be tied up later. Whatever you got from the booster and your own adrenaline is washed, Lieutenant. You’re pale as the moon, and your words are starting to slur.”

  “Coffee.”

  “Not a chance in hell.”

  He must have been right because when she managed to focus, she was standing—barely—in the bedroom. “One hour horizontal,” she said as she took off her weapon harness.

  “Four—which gives you enough time to put some fuel in your system in the morning and get downtown to grill your suspects.”

  “Not just grill.” She sat to yank off her boots. “I’m gonna fry ’em. Aren’t you gonna carry me to bed?”

  “You’re still dressed.”

  “’S’ okay. I can sleep in my clothes.” She smiled sleepily, held up her arms to him.

  He got her up, staggered a little as he carted her to the bed, then dumped both of them onto the duvet. “Best I can do.”

  “Good enough.” She curled into him, he wrapped around her, and they both tumbled into sleep.

  He’d been right about the four and the fuel, Eve decided. She was going to have a long and tricky day, and needed to charge up for it.

  As expected, Bullock and the rest had called in a fleet of lawyers. Eve was letting them all stew while she and her team gave complete reports to Whitney and Reo.

  “The Feds and Global are going to want to take over the fraud, the baby-for-profit op, and whatever else the foundation had its fingers into,” Reo told her.

  “They can have it.”

  “And a field day with it. The London law firm is also going to be on the hot seat. You’ve got yourself an international incident, Dallas.”

  “I’ve got three DB’s. Those are mine. As for the abduction and held-against-will of Tandy Willowby, that’s a share with Lieutenant Smith in MPU.”

  “How’s she doing? Willowby?”

  “Good, I’m told. She was sleeping when I left the house.” She turned to Whitney. “I want to start with Cavendish on this, sir. He’s the weak sister.”

  “Your call.”

  Reo got to her feet. “Got them cold on the kidnapping, and the evidence is there for Global. The three homicides, that’s the sticker.”

  “I’ll get them.”

  Reo nodded. “Mind if I watch?”

  Cavendish was in Interrogation, looking pale and sweaty and flanked by two sharp-looking suits. The one on the left got immediately to his feet. “My client was held overnight without bond, and kept waiting in this room nearly an hour. We intend to file complaints, and when you’ve finished this ridiculous charade, demand an internal investigation on you.”

  “Charade?” Eve said to Peabody.

  “It’s like that game where you can’t talk, but you have to use your hands and body language to get the other person to guess the word or phrase.”

  “No kidding? That’s good, because while Mr. Cavendish is entitled to his representation, and may speak with same, I’m not obliged to speak to lawyers. Record on. Dallas, Lieutenant Eve, and Peabody, Detective Delia, in formal interview with Cavendish, Walter, and his two representatives. I’ll just read off the charges.”

  When she had, she sat, kicked out her legs. “You’ve already been read the Revised Miranda, Mr. Cavendish—”

  “My client is a citizen of Great Britain—”

  “God save the King. Do you understand your rights and obligations in this matter?”

  “I understand. I have nothing to say.”

  “Okay, I’ll do the talking. We’ll start with accessory to murder, three counts. That’s good for three consecutive life sentences in the good old U.S. of A. Now, the Brits may want you, and we may agree to deport you into their custody, which would make me sad. Still, they’d lock you up for the rest of your natural life there, too—and save the taxpayers money.”

  “You have nothing to link my client to any murder, or any crime.”

  “I have enough not only to link you,” Eve said, speaking directly to Cavendish, “but to chain you head to foot and throw you overboard. Randall Sloan kept private records, Cavendish. Chase didn’t get them. I did. Your name’s on them.”

  She smiled when a line of sweat beaded over his top lip. Yeah, the weak sister.

  “You were aware of the operating practices of the Bullock Foundation, which included the sale of infant human beings for profit and fraudulent tax reporting to boost the profit on that operation. You were also aware that Chase intended to murder Natalie Copperfield and Bick Byson, who had discovered at least part of those practices. You knew he was going to do this to them.”

  Eve shoved two crime scene photos across the table.

  “My client has no knowledge of any of the circumstances of these crimes.”

  “You may be bottom of the food chain, Walt, but you knew. Bullock and Chase came to your office to discuss it in private, didn’t they? You had a nice little lunch while you discussed how he’d kill two people.”

  “This is absurd.” One of the lawyers got to his feet. “You have nothing but speculation. Groundless speculation. This interview—”

  “I’ve got more, Walter. I’ve got your girlfriend in the next room.”

  Eve grinned when his eyes darted toward the door. “Yeah, that’s right, and I’d make book she’ll push this whole thing into your lap. She worked for you, did what she was told, didn’t know. She can play that, and you’ll go down for it. Your kind always does. You’ve got SAP tattooed on your forehead. I don’t like her, so I’m talking to you first. I’m offering you the deal I’m going to offer her if you don’t make me happy.”

  “No deal,” the suit snapped.

  “I bet you work for Stuben, Robbins, Cavendish, and Mull.” Eve spoke to the lawyer for the first time. “They’re in a big pile of crap, too. Lot of smart lawyers there, right, Walter—smart lawyers who represent Bullock and Chase. I imagine they’ve got you all picked out as fall guy. Sent you over here, gave you busy work, show you no real respect. Now the heat’s on, and who do you think’s going to burn?”

  “I was home in bed with my wife when these murders occurred.” Cavendish tugged on his tie. “I have nothing to do with this.”

  “You don’t want to lie to me. You really don’t want to piss me off when I’m the only one here looking out for you. Chase killed Randall Sloan, set him up, took him out. I wonder what he’d do to you. Maybe I should put the two of you in a box together and find out.”

  “Threats won’t be tolerated,” one of the lawyers snapped.

  “Not a threat, just speculation. Here’s how it happened, how it’s documented in Randall Sloan’s private records. Copperfield came across something that didn’t quite add up for her, and she—being a good girl—went to Randall Sloan for advice. She knew him, the father of her friend, the son of the head of the firm—she trusted him. Maybe he tried to put out the fire himself, but she’s asking the wrong questions. He contacts Bullock, she contacts you. You’re in it now. She sets her son on Copperfield when bribery doesn’t work. You knew just what they did—that makes you an accessory.”

  “More speculation,” the lawyer said. “You have nothing concrete against my client, or Ms. Bullock and her son.”

  “Who do you believe, Walter? The suit from Stuben, or the cop who’s got you by the short hairs? It’s over for you, and you know it. Your life, your career, the plush office, the expense account. But you can choose how you want to spend what you’ve got left. Three counts, accessory to murder or—if you cooperate now—three counts obstruction of justice. You’ll do time in a cage, but you’ll be eligible for p
arole. You’ll end your life on the outside, instead of in. One-time offer, and you’ve got thirty seconds.”

  Eve leaned in close until he had little choice but to meet her eyes. “You know she’ll take it when I go next door. She’ll throw you to the wolves without a second’s thought. Tick-tock, Walter. Twenty seconds left.”

  “I want it in writing.”

  “Cavendish—”

  “Shut up!” he rounded on the lawyer. “It’s not your life on the line, is it? I’m not taking the fall for this. In writing,” he repeated. “And I’ll tell you everything I know.”

  “That was easy,” Peabody commented after they’d stepped out.

  “Didn’t even get me warmed up.” Eve rolled her shoulders. “Spineless bastard. He’ll do a solid dime on the obstruction.”

  “And there’s the fraud. You didn’t mention that to him in the offer.”

  Eve grinned. “Oops. Well, it’s not in my authority to offer a deal on international tax fraud or any international crime. Gee, I guess he’s going to do considerably more time than the dime.”

  “Who do you want next?”

  “We’ll take Bruberry. She’s going to be very, very unhappy her boss flipped on her.”

  “You think she’ll crack?”

  “Two hours tops.”

  “Put money on it?”

  Eve considered. “Fifty.”

  “Done.”

  In one hour and fifty-three minutes, Peabody walked out of Interview. “I’m kind of torn. I’m out fifty, but it was fairly frosty to watch her go down. Didn’t just crack, she exploded.”

  “And knew more of where the secrets are locked than her boss.” Eve rubbed her hands together. “Double or nothing on Chase?”

  “I figured we’d hit Bullock next.”

  “Nope, I’m saving her for last.”

  “No bet,” Peabody decided. “You’re hitting your stride.”

  As they turned, they saw Baxter hotfooting it down the hall. “Sweeper report, wanted to hand-deliver it.” He slapped a file, with disc, into Eve’s hand. “On Sloan’s vehicle. They found a single hair, headrest, driver’s seat. It’s Chase’s. EDD report,” he added, handing her another. “My new best friend, McNab, found transmissions to and from a Doctor Letitia Brownburn, London. Authorities there have already picked her up, and acted on a warrant to close down Sunday’s Child, until further investigation into its practices. There are also transmissions to Cavendish’s office—Madeline to Bruberry, and from Madeline to the London office where she conversed for some length with Stuben. They spoke cryptically, of an imminent delivery.”

  “Cavendish and Bruberry both sang like fat ladies,” Eve told him. “We’re taking Chase next.”

  “I’ll be in Observation with Reo.”

  “Baxter, why don’t you take this round. I’ll observe.” Peabody glanced at Eve. “That work for you?”

  “Fine.”

  “I appreciate it. How do you want to handle it?”

  “Hard and mean. No deals, no good cop. He’s got a temper. Let’s piss him off.”

  “Like your style.”

  They went in together. Eve slapped the files on the table where Chase sat with three lawyers.

  “Record on.” She read off the data. “There’s one suit in here too many.” She shot up a hand before any one of them could speak. “Anything over two reps is at my discretion. One of you get out.”

  “As Mr. Chase is a British citizen and the absurd charges levied against him so serious, we require special representation for international law, for criminal law, and for tax law.”

  “I don’t much care what you require. One of you get out. Now, or this interview is over, and your client goes back to sit in his cell until you’re down to two.”

  “We expect some courtesy.”

  “You’re not going to get it. Detective.” She turned for the door.

  “I can handle international and criminal.” The lone woman, a brunette of about fifty, spoke in clear, unaccented tones. “I think it’s in our client’s interest to have this straightened out as soon as possible.”

  One of the men rose, strode stiffly out of the room.

  “Mr. Chase, you’ve been read the Revised Miranda, is this correct?”

  When he sat stonily silent, the woman spoke again. “Mr. Chase acknowledges the reading of his rights.”

  “I hear that from him, on record, or again, this interview is over.”

  “I was read my rights,” Chase snapped. “And manhandled. I intend to file charges of police brutality.”

  “You look okay to me. Are you requesting a physical examination to document any injuries you may have incurred during your arrest?”

  “You attacked me.”

  “Beg to differ, and the assault against me was recorded. Now, do you understand your rights and obligations, Mr. Chase? He answers,” Eve said again. “On record.”

  “I understand them, such as they are in this uncivilized city of yours.”

  “Good. In this uncivilized city we like to put people in cages for their entire natural life for various offenses. Now, where should we start?”

  “Lieutenant.” The brunette took a sheet of paper from her briefcase. “If we could clear up the matter of one Tandy Willowby residing temporarily in Ms. Bullock and Mr. Chase’s New York home?”

  “Residing? Is that what you Brits call it when a woman’s locked in a room and held against her will?” She shook her head at Baxter. “And they say we speak the same language.”

  “Didn’t look like she was residing to me. Bet you like women locked up and helpless, Chase. Pregnant, too, so they can’t fight you off. Fucking pervert.”

  “We will make note of any obscenities,” the brunette said primly.

  “Wanker.” Eve grinned darkly at Chase. “I bet you watched Tandy on that security screen while you slapped the monkey.”

  “You disgusting bitch.”

  “Mr. Chase.” The brunette laid a hand over his. “Lieutenant, please. I believe we can clear this up quickly, and move on. I have here a statement Ms. Bullock dictated to her representative, and which Mr. Chase has corroborated and signed. I’d like to read it into evidence.”

  “Help yourself.”

  “On Thursday, shortly after six P.M., Ms. Bullock noticed Ms. Willowby on Madison Avenue, where Ms. Bullock had been shopping. In May of last year, Ms. Willowby had enlisted the help of the Bullock Foundation to assist her in placing her child for adoption. However, Ms. Willowby failed to keep subsequent appointments with the counselor, the obstetrician, and the placement agency. Relieved to see her well, Ms. Bullock approached her. At that time, Ms. Willowby became quite distraught and begged Ms. Bullock for help. Concerned, Ms. Bullock helped Ms. Willowby to her car, intending to have her driven home. But Ms. Willowby only became more hysterical, to the point of threatening suicide. She was nearly at term and had realized, she stated, that she could not raise the child, having neither the emotional nor the financial wherewithal. Out of concern, and with a desire to assist, Ms. Bullock took the young woman to her home—with Ms. Willowby’s full consent. She lodged Ms. Willowby there, arranged for medical assistance, and began to make arrangements for counseling and for adoption proceedings should Ms. Willowby remain in the same state of mind.”

  “You can just stop there, because we didn’t bring shovels, and that’s the biggest load of bullshit we may have ever had dumped in this room. We’ve got you on Tandy, Chase. Not only her statement, but the statements of five cops and one civilian, who will all testify she was locked in a room against her will.”

  “Ms. Willowby’s state of mind,” the lawyer began, and Eve shoved up from her chair, got in her face.

  “I wonder what your state of mind would’ve been if you’d been locked in a room, examined by a medical droid without your consent. You can cram your statement and the rest of this bullshit. You can cram it, sister, because when Stuben and company goes down, your ass is very likely going to be hanging naked in the
wind.”

  “If this interview can’t be conducted with some measure of decorum—”

  “Screw decorum and you with it. You don’t like it, there’s the door.” She shifted to Chase. “EDD is even now mining the medical droid’s memory banks. I don’t have to waste my time on that, because you’re going down for it, Win, you and Mommy. Oh, by the way, did you tell your representatives you were sleeping with Mommy when we took you down?”

  “Shut up.”

  “Lieutenant, please.” The female lawyer held up a hand, but Eve had seen the blink of shock. “Impugning Ms. Bullock’s and Mr. Chase’s reputations is unacceptable.”

  “Here, again in the uncivilized U.S., so is incest. Twenty-five to life for the abduction and held-against-will of Tandy Willowby. And if we find you raped her while she was held—”

  “I never touched that filthy slut!”

  “Oh?” Eve flipped through one of the files. “Right, right, you don’t play that game, because it’s all about Mommy.”

  “Maybe he likes—what do you call them—Nancy boys,” Baxter suggested. “Yeah, I bet this one likes to stick it to little boys when he’s not doing it with Mom.”

  “You revolt me. We’ll bury both of you before this is done.”

  “No, he wouldn’t play with boys,” Eve said. “Mommy wouldn’t like it. Didn’t rape Tandy either, did you, Win? Never got it up for anyone but your mother. Can’t get the wood on for anyone but her, can you?”

  At Eve’s words, Chase shoved out of the chair, lunged toward her. It took both the lawyers and Baxter to hold him back.

  “Lieutenant, this is simply unacceptable. I won’t have my client spoken to in this way.”

  “Write a complaint.” She rose, circled around, leaned over the back of Chase’s shoulder. He was breathing hard, and she could feel the heat pumping off of him. “You didn’t rape Natalie either. Another filthy slut? Not like your mother, who’s important and understands you, your needs. You and your mother have so many secrets. Isn’t that what she told you when she touched you when you were a boy? A secret, just between the two of you. As long as you’re a good boy, do what your mother says, everything’s fine.

  “Then that bitch Copperfield started poking around where she had no business, and she was going to try to take you down. She had the nerve to question your business. Did your mother tell you to do it, Win? I think so. You do what your mother tells you, or there’s no sack time with her. Did she tell you to use Randall Sloan’s car? Found your hair in it.”