The In Death Collection Books 21-25 - J. D. Robb [234]
Eve looked toward the bed, could picture Trudy sitting there, her face battered, tears streaming. “‘This is what they did to me. I’m afraid for my life.’ All she has to do is get a copy of it delivered to one of us. Have to have some subtext on the recording. ‘I don’t know what to do. Should I go to the police? But she’s the police. God help me,’ blah-blah. ‘He’s so rich, so powerful. What will happen if I take this recording to the media. Will I be safe?’ ”
“Figuring you’d read between the lines.”
“And when we contact her, she’ll insist one of us come here. No ’link conversations that can be turned around on her. Face-to-face. Give me the money, or I ruin you. But it doesn’t get that far.”
“Because her delivery boy took her out.”
“Had to come in the door. I just don’t buy the window, not with this scenario. Security’s not heavy here. Anybody wants to walk in, they walk in. Or he could’ve been staying at the hotel. Keep him close that way, under her thumb that way. At her beck and call. We’ll run the registration list again, go deeper there. Find a connection. Better if your minion’s close by. She tells him to come up.”
“She couldn’t be feeling her best, even with the blockers, the alcohol.”
“No, and she’d want to be able to complain to somebody. Fix me a drink. Get me some soup. Maybe bitching—if she’d sent the disc with him—why we hadn’t jumped already. What’s taking us so long? Maybe she slips about the amount she’s going to demand, or maybe she just pushes the wrong button. But she’s not concerned. Pacing around in her nightgown. She’s there.”
Eve pointed so that Peabody would assume Trudy’s position. “Back to him. He picks up the sap, takes her down. Rug burns on the heels of her hand. Get down, Peabody.”
“Cops have no dignity.” Peabody went down on her knees, shot her hands out as if catching herself.
“And again, from above. One more to make sure. Blood. Had to get some blood on him. Now he’s got to figure it out, cover his tracks. Take the weapon, take the ’link, take the camera. Record would be on the hard drive, if anyone decided to look. Make sure. Washcloth, towel, sock. Anything with her blood on it. Wrap everything up in a towel. Go out the window. Leave the window open. Logic says the killer came in that way.”
By the window now, Eve looked out. “Down and gone, no problem. Or . . .” She studied the distance to the window of the next room, the emergency platform. “Next room was empty. Maybe . . .”
She turned back. “Let’s have the sweepers take a look next door. I want those drains checked for blood. Bring them in now. I’ll go down and deal with the desk droid.”
He wasn’t happy about it. The room was occupied, and moving guests generally made them unhappy.
“They’ll be a lot unhappier if they’re in there while my crime scene team’s tearing up the room. You’ll be a lot unhappier if I go through the trouble of getting a warrant to shut down this establishment until my investigation is closed.”
That did the trick. While she waited, she checked in with Baxter.
“What’s the status?”
“They’re making up for lost time. I think we’ve walked five fricking miles. And it’s spitting some wet snow.”
“So button up. What are they doing?”
“Shopping mostly. Just bought a little tree after looking at all the little trees in the borough of Manhattan. They’re talking about heading back, thank the tiny baby Jesus. If anyone’s tailing them but me and my faithful sidekick, I’m a monkey.”
“Stick with them.”
“Like glue.”
In Midtown, Baxter shoved his communicator back in his coat pocket. On his earpiece he heard Zana talk about lunch. Should they buy some dogs and stay out a while longer? Or go drop off their things, have lunch at the hotel?
“Hotel,” he mumbled. “Go to the hotel. The one with a nice warm coffee shop across the street.”
Trueheart shrugged. “It’s nice being out. Being able to see all the decorations. The snow just adds.”
“You kill me, kid. It’s thirty degrees, windy, and this snow is more like sleet. The sidewalks are jammed, and we’re walking the soles of our