Glory in Death - J. D. Robb [57]
“That’s interesting,” Nadine said and had to school her face before it scowled. “We have the details on the murders themselves, but not on the motive behind them, or the killer. What is it that connects Prosecutor Towers to Yvonne Metcalf?”
“We’re investigating several lines of inquiry.”
“Prosecutor Towers was killed three weeks ago, Lieutenant, yet you have no suspects?”
“We have no evidence to support an arrest at this time.”
“Then you do have suspects?”
“The investigation is proceeding with all possible speed.”
“And motive?”
“People kill people, Ms. Furst, for all manner of reasons. They’ve done so since we crawled out of the muck.”
“Biblically speaking,” Nadine put in, “murder is the oldest crime.”
“You could say it has a long tradition. We may be able to filter out certain undesirable tendencies through genetics, chemical treatments, beta scans, we deter with penal colonies and the absence of freedom. But human nature remains human nature.”
“Those basic motives for violence that science is unable to filter: love, hate, greed, envy, anger.”
“They separate us from the droids, don’t they?”
“And make us susceptible to joy, sorrow, and passion. That’s a debate for the scientists and the intellectuals. But which of those motives killed Cicely Towers and Yvonne Metcalf?”
“A person killed them, Ms. Furst. His or her purpose remains unknown.”
“You have a psychiatric profile, of course.”
“We do,” Eve confirmed. “And we will use it and all of the tools at our disposal to find the murderer. I’ll find him,” Eve said deliberately flicking her eyes toward the camera. “And once the cage door is closed, motive won’t matter. Only justice.”
“That sounds like a promise, Lieutenant. A personal promise.”
“It is.”
“The people of New York will depend on you keeping that promise. This is Nadine Furst, reporting for Channel 75.” She waited a beat, then nodded. “Not bad, Dallas. Not bad at all. We’ll run it again at six and eleven, with the recap at midnight.”
“Good. Take a walk, Pete.”
The operator shrugged and wandered out of the room.
“Off the record,” Eve began. “How much airtime can you give me?”
“For?”
“Exposure. I want plenty of it.”
“I figured there was something behind this little gift.” Nadine let out a little breath that was nearly a sigh. “I have to say I’m disappointed, Dallas. I never figured you for a camera hound.”
“I’ve got to testify on the Mondell case in a couple of hours. Can you get a camera there?”
“Sure. The Mondell case is small ratings, but it’s worth a couple zips.” She pulled her diary out and noted it.
“I’ve got this thing tonight, too, at the New Astoria. One of those gold plate dinners.”
“The Astoria dinner ball, sure.” Her smile turned derisive. “I don’t work the social beat, Dallas, but I can tell the assignment desk to cue on you. You and Roarke are always good for the gossip eaters. It is you and Roarke, isn’t it?”
“I’ll let you know where you can catch me over the next couple of days,” Eve continued, ignoring the insult. “I’ll feed you regular updates to air.”
“Fine.” Nadine rose. “Maybe you’ll trip over the killer on your way to fame and fortune. Got an agent yet?”
For a moment, Eve said nothing, just tapped her fingertips together. “I thought it was your job to fill airtime and guard the public’s right to know, not to moralize.”
“And I thought it was yours to serve and protect, not to cash in.” Nadine snagged up her bag by the strap. “Catch you on the screen, Lieutenant.”
“Nadine.” Pleased, Eve tipped back in her chair. “You left out one of those basic human motives for violence before. Thrill.”
“I’ll make a note of it.” Nadine wrenched at the door, then let it slip out of her hands. When she turned back, her face was white and shocked under its sheen of camera makeup. “Are you out of your mind? You’re bait? You’re fucking bait?”
“Pissed you off, didn’t it?” Smiling, Eve allowed herself the luxury of propping her feet on the desk.