The In Death Collection Books 26-29 - J.D. Robb [408]
“He may have done so without leaving a mark, a sign.” Louise considered the data. “Touching her, or verbal abuse. You don’t think it’s him,” she said to Eve. “Why?”
“I’d like it to be him. He’s a prick. But he’s a hothead, with a jacket that lists excessive force, insubordination. Ricker tends to go for smarter, cooler. Then again, he might’ve been all Ricker could get in this case. He’s not out of it, he’s just not top of my list.”
She moved on. “Newman, Josh, Detective. Light touch, takes it easy. Keeps his head down and does the job.”
“He’s not top of your list either.” Mavis stood at the board, a plate in her hand. “It’s the woman.” She ate another bite, turned to where Eve sat. “It’s got to be the woman. She’s the best fit.”
“Why?” Nadine wanted to know.
“Well, jeez, Coltraine might’ve respected her lieutenant, and the old guy. She maybe liked the asshole okay, even if she brushed him back. Because, hey, Morris and she had good taste. Maybe she got on fine with this last guy, too. But she and this one? Only women in the club, right? They’re going to have a different kind of thing. Women say shit to each other and talk about stuff they don’t with penises. Look at us. Sorry,” she said abruptly to Mira. “Stepping on your spot.”
“No, it’s interesting. Your idea is that Cleo Grady killed Coltraine because they were women.”
“I just figure she’d get closer than the others, know more about what the what was when Coltraine was off—you know, the R&R time. Like she’s not going to tell the asshole she’s got her period and wants a hot bath, or the old guy how she’s got the hornies and can’t wait to jump Morris. Like that. This one probably knew all that.”
“And would’ve known, more than the others, that she’d be home alone that night.” Nadine pursed her lips. “Good one, Mavis.”
Mavis grinned, shrugged. “Okay,” she said to Eve, “am I right or am I wrong?”
“You win the Smart Girl Award.”
“Uptown!”
“Grady’s your prime? You could’ve told me,” Peabody complained.
“I didn’t bump her up until this morning. She’s cool-headed, but she’s got something under there that runs hot. There’s the ring. Okay, you take it because you’re playing at making it look like robbery. But you don’t send it back with the badge and weapon. You keep it. A man might do the same, for a trophy. But she likes jewelry—the subtle, classy kind. So it’s an element. Coltraine might’ve told the entire squad she was taking an evening at home alone, but given her type, she was more likely to talk about it with Grady. Plus, she and Grady were working a case together. More opportunity. And the opportunity for Grady to tag her, tell her she had something go hot on the investigation. And Ricker likes using women. He likes using them, hurting them, disposing of them. It’s icing for him to pit one against the other.”
“Sandy.” Peabody set her plate aside and rose to go to the board. “It would be easier for a woman to get close to him. Play on his ego, and he’d have less cause—in his mind—to worry about her, physically.”
“Physically’s a factor though, isn’t it?” Nadine pointed toward Grady’s photo. “Didn’t the killer carry Coltraine to the basement? Or do you think Sandy was there and did the heavy work?”
“Maybe. But she could’ve done it.”
“I carried Dallas down.” Peabody smiled. “We reenacted.”
“Going on the assumption this is your killer, she wouldn’t have wanted him there. Or anyone else there.” Mira gestured with her coffee cup. “Factoring in the theories, this would have been a one-on-one, woman-to-woman. On orders perhaps, but personal.”
“You need more than theories. Sorry.” Reo spread her hands. “You’ve got no probable cause, no witness, nothing putting your suspect at either scene. Unless Rouche worked with her directly, and can give us some chapter and verse—or Ricker gets a wild hair and decides to flip on her for the fun of it—there