“Yes, ma’am. I’m a year-round student, and I work there to help with living expenses. I’ve worked there for over a year now.”
“You were working there on March thirty-first.”
“Ah. I’m not sure. Maybe.”
“You sold several items to this man.” Eve drew out the sketch. “Do you remember him?”
“I’m not sure. Exactly. It’s over two months ago, and we’re a really popular store. It can get really busy.”
“I have a list of what he bought. It might help you remember.” Eve started down the list, saw Fiona blink when she got to the shoes. “You remember?”
“I do. It was a really big sale, and the shoes are really high. I remember because I told him they were going on sale, for one day, in just another week. Ten percent, and that’s a lot when they go for three and a half bills, you know? But he wanted them right then. He looked a little different from this picture. That’s why I didn’t recognize him right away.”
“How so?”
“His hair was a lot longer, and wavy. He had mag hair. He was really cute. I guess I flirted with him a little, the way you do, asked if he lived on campus, and what his major was. I think he said he was living off campus. He was nice, but he didn’t flirt back, so I figured he was seeing someone or I didn’t push the buzzer for him. I made some joke about him hitting the jackpot or something because he was buying so much. I remember he smiled, because, wow, killer smile. And he said—because I thought it was funny—clothes make the man. It seemed like a weird thing to say when he’s buying sweatshirts and that kind of thing. I bagged it all up, and he left.”
“Have you seen him since?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Okay, Fiona. Thanks.”
“Did he do something illegal?”
“We’re interested in talking to him. If you do see him, do me a favor. Don’t approach him, and contact me.” Eve handed her a card.
“Sure. Should I go back to the retreat now?”
“Yes,” Peach told her. “Straight back.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Did that help?” Peach asked as Fiona hurried off.
“It confirms some information, continues to establish pattern, and tells me he’s got smug going up against careful, and sometimes smug wins. Yeah, that’s helpful. As you’ve been. Thank you.”
“I’m happy I could help, and I hope the media reports, very soon, that you’ve arrested this man.”
“So do I.”
When they reached the car, Roarke asked, “What next?”
“I need to go back over the list of names and data of those connected with the Irene Schultz arrest. I need to talk to them, all of them, and try to figure out his next target.”
“They don’t all live in New York.”
“No.” She got into the car. “But he’s got, apparently, an endless supply of IDs, and credit to go with them. Maybe his next target’s in New York, maybe not. I need to interview all the connections to possible targets to try to work it out.”
“Not all the connections live in New York either, or in the city. You could, of course, shuttle around to and from, or conduct the interviews via ’link.”
“I’d rather a face-to-face, but it’s not practical, so most of it will have to be by ’link. The problem is people expand. They get married and/or have kids. The kids do the same. Or they have sibs who do it. In twenty-odd years, you’ve got a horde spiraling out of one person.”
“People and their propensity for progeny.” Amused at her, Roarke shook his head. “What can be done?”
“What I’d like to do is get them all into Central, take them one at a time, then if necessary, pool them altogether, to see if one person’s answers jogs something salient from another.”
“I can arrange that.”
She slanted him a bland look as he drove them home. “What? You’ll have everyone transported to Central—from wherever they happen to be? Not only impractical, but plenty of them won’t go for it. Another problem with people is they have lives, and can get fussy when asked to put them on hold to aid in a police investigation they may or may not believe really involves them.”
“There’s transporting,” he said, “and there’s transporting.”
“Well, sure, your transports are all slick and shiny, but—”
“Eve, while I often have to travel for business, or have someone brought in, how much more often do I conduct business halfway around the world, even off planet, without leaving New York?”
“Yeah, but you’ve got . . .” She had a sudden memory of walking into his office unannounced while he conducted a meeting. A holographic meeting. “It could work,” she considered. “We don’t use holo for interviews generally because if you’re dealing with a suspect, even witnesses in some cases, the defense will try to get anything gathered by that method tossed. It’s tricky because it can be manipulated. You want to make it solid, you need a confession or hard evidence face-to-face, on record. But this . . .”
“You’re not looking for a confession, not interviewing suspects, or even people of interest.”
“Yeah, it could work. I’ll want to run it by an APA, make sure there’s no procedural angle I need to cover. If any information I get leads to an arrest, we don’t want some slick lawyer trying to claim the information was tainted, therefore, blah, blah. But I think we can do this.”
“You used holo on Ricker.”
“Yeah, and he’s already doing life without possibility of parole. They can try to dance around the method for slapping him with conspiracy on Coltraine. But you order a cop’s murder, from the inside of an off-planet penal colony where holo-visitations and legal consultations are allowed? It’s going to be hard for anyone to argue the method, and I cleared it first. Cleo wasn’t part of the holo, and she was allowed to view it. I didn’t use any evidence, per se, from the holo in drawing her confession, and I, again, cleared it first. The judge already tossed her lawyer’s petition to dismiss on that one.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
“I think we can use this, if the parties agree. I’d save hours of time, and have the next-best to face-to-face. I just need to make sure our ass is covered on it.”
“You cover the asses, and I’ll set it up.”
“How long to set it up?”
“The basic program, twenty minutes at most. Then I’d need the coordinates of those you want to bring in. It would take a few minutes to triangulate each holo.”
“It bears repeating. You’re handy to have around.” She took out her ’link and contacted APA Cher Reo.
There was, as expected, some legal jumbo. But even with it, she would save considerable time. She continued to consult with Reo as she walked into the house, and thought one advantage to legal crap was the opportunity to totally ignore Summerset.
Once she got the nod, she began making the contacts and arrangements. She’d hit the halfway point when Roarke beeped through. “The program’s set, in the holo-room. I need those coordinates.”
“I’ll bring them to you. Peabody can make the rest of the contacts. Five minutes.”
She routed the rest to her partner, then gathered what she needed. She used the elevator, and stepped out into a larger and somehow swankier version of her home office.
“Hmm.”
“Appearances can count. One of these days, you might consider replacing that desk of yours with a workstation like this one.”
She frowned at the dark, shiny surface of the U-shaped console, its built-in D and C unit and sleek control panel.
“I like my desk.”
“Yes, I know.” He kissed her lightly, then pointed to a table at the rear of the room. “Have a sandwich.”
“We have sandwiches?”
“Eat. You can station yourself at the desk, if you like. Knowing you, I assume you’ll be on your feet most of the time. Your interview subject can be placed at any chair, or the sofa. The unit here, and the wall screen are both fully op
erational should you need them.”
Slick, she thought. Very slick. “It has to be recorded.”
“It will be.”
Because he pointed at the table again, she picked up a sandwich. “Let’s bring Peabody in first.”
He nodded, used his own ’link.
“Peabody.” Peabody’s face went glowy at the sight of Roarke. “Oh, hey. Hi!”
“Hi. The lieutenant would like you to join us.”
“Okay. Wow. I’ve never holo’d before.”
“I’ll be gentle,” he said and made her giggle. “There. I have you. Initiating.”
Little dots of lights swirled, then the swirl became Peabody.
“Oh. Gee. That was easy. It didn’t feel weird.” She looked around, blinking. “It is weird, but it didn’t feel weird. What’s that?”
“What? It’s a sandwich.”
“Oh, it’s a panini. It really looks good.”
“There’s more over there. Help yourself.”
“Thanks.” Peabody turned to the table, reached out, and her hand passed straight through sandwich and tray. “That was just mean. I can’t help myself because I’m not really here. But I am here. I don’t understand holo-science. Every time McNab tries to explain it to me, my brain goes to sleep.”
“Let’s leave that to the geeks and be cops. Finish the contacts, get the waivers. I’ll connect with the PD again, then we’ll bring her in.”
It was weird, Eve admitted, but it was also smooth and efficient. In moments, she had the former public defender sitting in her programmed office.
“I appreciate the time, Ms. Drobski.”
“It’s no problem. I’d like to get this business resolved as soon as possible. It’s unnerving.”
“I’m sure it is. Your safety, and the safety of your family is a priority.”
“You have viable evidence that I—or my family—is being targeted? Evidence that substantially links this jeopardy to a defendant I represented more than twenty years ago?”
“You’re thinking like a lawyer. I’m thinking like a cop. Which one do you want to trust your life to, and the lives of your family?”
The woman shifted either in discomfort or annoyance. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
“You were shown an artist rendering of the suspect. Are you still certain you’ve never seen this man before? On screen image, Darrin Pauley.”
Drobski studied the screen. “I haven’t, not to my knowledge.”
“You have a brother.”
“Yes, Lyle. As I told you, he’s a financial consultant. I spoke with him, and he’s been shown the sketch, as has his wife, and their son. I’m concerned enough that I’ve been through this with my parents, and they live in Arizona. None of them recognize this man.”
“Who are you closest to?”
“I’m sorry?”
“In your family. Who are you closest to?”
“That’s very difficult to . . . my father, I suppose. He’s the reason I became a lawyer. I can promise you, Lieutenant, he’s not naive or gullible enough to allow himself or my mother to be put in danger. And he’s targeting women, isn’t he?”
“We don’t rule out a change to male target. Who else is there?”
“I don’t have any other family.”
“Who else are you close to? Family isn’t always blood.”
“Oh. God.” For the first time, Drobski looked shaken. “Lincoln, Lincoln Matters. We’ve been involved for over a year now, and my partner, Elysse Wagman. We’re very close, have been since college. She . . . she’s like a sister.”
“Peabody.”
“On it.”
“You think he might go after Lincoln or Elysse? I need to tell them—”
“We’re taking care of it right now. Is Elysse married, cohabbing?”
“No. In fact she just came out the other side of a difficult divorce. She has a daughter, my goddaughter, Renny. She’s only eleven.”
“We’ll take care of them.” She saw Peabody give her the nod out of the corner of her eye. “Police officers are on their way to her residence right now, and to Lincoln’s. When we’ve finished, I’ll contact both of them myself, and explain everything.”
“You really think it could be—”
“I’m not going to take any chances. I want you to tell me everything you remember about the Irene Schultz case.”
“I remember it very well. I hadn’t been a PD long, and I was still idealistic. Green. I felt, since she didn’t have any priors, she had a young child, I could make a good deal for her. I figured I’d get them to kick the illegals charge, the solicitation, maybe plead it down to a year, and mandatory rehab. Maybe get part of the year in a halfway. Then even before I talked to her, I got the whiff that they wanted her husband, and maybe I could get her straight into halfway and rehab with no cage time if she flipped on him.”
“But she didn’t.”
“Wouldn’t. She insisted, even to me, he had no part in what she’d done, no knowledge of it. I explained, tried to nudge her some, but she wouldn’t budge. I tried the mom card. I really wanted to help her. She wouldn’t be able to take care of her little boy if she was in prison. But, she stuck. Worse, when the APA came in the next morning to deal, she insisted on taking the first round. I could’ve dealt it down to a year, but she wouldn’t let me. I felt like a failure.”
“Did you speak with the husband?”
“Yeah. He was angry. Outraged when I told him she’d taken the eighteen. He said she shouldn’t do more than a year inside. I agreed with him, but he blamed me. When I told him she wouldn’t let me try to deal, he calmed down some, even apologized. When we went into court, he brought the baby. A really beautiful baby.”
Her gaze went back to the wall screen. “God. I held him. I held that baby while Irene and her husband had a minute. I actually held him. I felt sick when he cried for his mother. Sick that I hadn’t been able to do more. You get over that after a while, after being buried under the work, the system. That’s when you have to get out, when you get over being sick you couldn’t do more.”
When Eve felt she’d gotten everything she could, she brought in Elysse Wagman, keeping Drobski in place as both of them requested.
The woman absorbed the information Eve gave her, took it all in without a flinch. “I’m going to send my daughter to Colorado, to my mother. Tonight.”
“Lissy, you should go, too. You should—”
“Ms. Wagman.” Eve interrupted Drobski’s worry. “I understand your concern for your daughter’s safety. The officers will assist you in any way they can with the arrangements for her transportation to your mother. I can’t order you to stay, but I will ask you. If you have been targeted, any change in routine may tip him off. We can and will protect you.”
“For how long?”
“As long as necessary. Would you please take another look at the image on screen? A closer look.”
“I’m just not sure, either way.”
“He may have longer hair, or shorter. He could look just a little older.”
“Longer hair,” she murmured. “It could be . . . Jesus, it could be. Longer hair and a beard. Dom Patrelli.”
Bingo, Eve thought. Even as she turned to order Peabody to run it, her partner was working her PPC. “How do you know him?”
“I do pro bono work out of a legal-aid clinic, Lower East Side. About three weeks ago, when I was leaving this—he—came running up. Out of breath. Asked if I was Elysse Wagman. He said he was a journalist, and doing a spec piece on women in law with an emphasis on domestic cases. It’s my specialty. He said he’d run behind, had tried to get there before the clinic closed, asked if he could just walk with me, ask me some questions. I didn’t see the harm. He was charming and earnest, and so interested in the work we’re doing.”
“He gave you his name, his credentials.”
“Yes. I guess it was kind of quick, he was a bit fumbly. But we were right on the street. He just walked with me for a few blocks,
asked the right sort of questions. He’d done some good background on the clinic. I was impressed, and pleased. We can use some positive exposure. He bought me a cup of coffee from a glide-cart, and asked if he could contact me if he had any follow-ups.”
“And did he?”
“The next week, he was waiting outside the clinic when I closed up, with coffee. I had some time, so we walked over to the park, sat on a bench, drank coffee while we did his follow-up. He was . . . he was a little flirty, nothing over the top or offensive. I was flattered. He’s twenty years younger, easily, and I . . . I’m an idiot.”
“No. He’s very good at what he does.”
“We talked, that’s all, and it came out he’s a fan of Zapoto’s films.”
“Jesus,” Drobski murmured.
“I know. I’m a rabid fan, and we got into that, debating, dissecting. There was a mini-festival in Tribeca that weekend.”
“You went out with him.”
Elysse moistened her lips, pushed at her hair.
Nervous, Eve thought, but equal parts embarrassed.
“I met him there Saturday night. We had drinks after, a little dinner. God, I actually told him I couldn’t ask him back to my place because of my daughter, which was an obvious way of saying let’s go to his. And he said his roommate’s mother was visiting, and it would be awkward. Then he kissed me and put me in a cab. He kissed me,” she repeated, pressing her hand to her lips.
“We went out again the next week—just lunch, soy dogs down on the wharf. He made me feel young, sexy—and eager,” she confessed, “because he said he wanted me to have a little more time. I’d told him about the divorce, and my daughter. I told him about my girl. He wanted me to have more time because he wanted me to be sure.”
“When are you seeing him again?”
“A week from Friday. He’s working this weekend.”
Not if I can help it, Eve thought.
19
“SHE’S NOT THE NEXT IN LINE,” EVE SAID. “He’s playing her along, stringing it out. Divorced—that’s a couple steps further along. He plays her perfectly. Changes his look, his image. Young, but not too young, flirtatious, but not too, interested in what interests her—knowledgeable about those interests.”