The Lost - J. D. Robb [15]
He glanced at Eve with mild exasperation. “Why would I? I don’t need to steal—and if I did, I could do it myself, after all. I wasn’t interested in her services, and made it plain. Not only because I don’t—never did—steal ideas. It’s low and common.”
Eve shook her head. “Your moral compass continues to baffle me.”
“As yours does me. Aren’t we a pair? But I warned her off not only for that, but because she was known—and my own research confirmed—not only as a spy but an assassin.”
Eve glanced over quickly before she pushed through traffic. “A corporate assassin?”
“That would depend on the highest bidder, from what I learned. She’s for hire, or apparently was, and didn’t quibble at getting her hands bloody. Peabody won’t find any of this in her run. A large percentage of her work, if rumor holds, has been for various governments. The pay’s quite good, particularly if you don’t mind a bit of throat slitting.”
“A techno spy, heavy into wet work, takes a ride on the ferry. And ends up not just dead, but missing. A competitor? Another kill for hire? It struck me as a pro job, even—maybe because—it was so damn messy and complicated. It’s going to get buckets of media when the rest of the data leaks. Who would want that?”
“A point proven?” He shrugged again. “I couldn’t say. Was the body dumped off the ferry?”
“I don’t think so.” She filled him in as she wound and bullied her way to the East Side. “So, as far as I can tell, he moved the body and the wit, in full view of dozens, maybe hundreds of people. And nobody saw anything. The wit doesn’t remember anything.”
“I’ll have to ask the obvious. You’re sure there were no escape routes in the room?”
“Unless we’ve got a killer who can shrink to rat size and slither down a pipe, we didn’t find any. Maybe he popped into a vortex.”
Roarke turned, grinned. “Really?”
Eve waved it away. “Peabody’s Free-A gey suggestion. Hell, maybe he waved his magic wand and said, ‘Hocus pocus.’ What?” she said when Roarke frowned.
“Something . . . in the back of my mind. Let me think about it.”
“Before you think too hard?” She veered into the health center’s lot. “Just let me point out there is no magic wand, or rabbit in the hat, or alternate reality.”
“Well, in this reality, most people notice when a dead body’s paraded around under their noses.”
“Maybe it didn’t look like one. They have a couple of maintenance hampers on board. The killer dumps the body in, wheels it out like it’s just business as usual. And no, we haven’t found any missing hampers, or any trace in the couple on board. But it’s a logical angle.”
“True enough.” Once she’d parked, he got out of the car with her. “Then again, logic would say don’t kill in a room with only one out, and a public one, don’t take the body, and don’t leave a witness. So, it may be hard to hold to one logical line when the others are badly frayed.”
“They’re only frayed logic until you find the reason and motive.” Eve pulled out her badge as they walked into the health center.
The Grogans crowded into a tiny little room with Carolee sitting up in bed, a bouquet of cheerful flowers in her lap. She looked tired, Eve thought, and showed both strain and resignation when she saw Eve come in.
“Lieutenant. I’ve been poked and prodded, screened and scanned and scoped. All over a bump on the head. I know something bad happened, something awful, but it really doesn’t have anything to do with me.”
“You still don’t remember anything?”
“No. Obviously I hit my head, and I must’ve been dazed for a while.” Her hand snuck from under the flowers to reach for her husband’s. “I’m fine now, really. I feel fine now. I don’t want the boys to spend their vacation in a hospital room.”
“It’s just a few hours,” Steve assured her. The youngest, whose name was Pete, Eve remembered, crawled onto the bed to sit at his mother’s side.
“Still. I’m sorry someone was hurt. Someone must’ve been hurt, from what Steve said. I wish I could help, I really do. But I don’t know anything.”
“How’s the head?”
“It pounds a little.”
“I have a photo I’d like to show