In death 57 payback in.., p.33
In Death 57 - Payback in Death, page 33
“She’s not going to prison. You can’t do that to her. You won’t!”
“Oh, yes. Yes, she is. Yes, we can and, yes, we will. She planned it all out, she told you just what to do, and you obeyed like a lovesick puppy. You did this for a woman who doesn’t love you. She still loves the boy who died nearly ten years ago.”
“That’s a lie!” Fury burned through the tears, and the hands he’d clutched together pounded on the table. “You’re a liar, like all cops are liars. We’re going to get married. We’re going to make a family.”
“No conjugal visits between inmates off-planet. Tell us how it went down, Denzel. Maybe we can work it so you do the time on-planet, so your mother, your sisters can visit. She’s going down, no way to change that.”
“She’s not! She didn’t do anything. I—I did it all. I killed Martin—you’re covering it up. You’re covering up everything he did to ruin her life. I hung Ben. I did it all. She had nothing to do with it. She didn’t even know.”
“Is that right? How’d you get the window open? How’d you manage to lift a hundred-and-eighty-five-pound unconscious man up to hang him? Where’d you get the service weapon?”
Tears still ran, but he folded his lips. “I did what I did. I’m not saying anything else. I killed Martin and I tried to kill Ben. Elva wasn’t part of it.”
“You’re going to take the fall for a woman who doesn’t love you. Who used you to do her dirty work.”
“She loves me. I saved her. That’s all I’m going to say.”
“Your white charger looks really tired, Denzel. Interview end.”
As he laid his head on the table and wept, they stepped out.
“Good work, mean-ass Peabody.”
Peabody rubbed at the back of her neck. “I started feeling sorry for him—but I didn’t let it stop me. It’s what you expected him to do.”
“Yeah. We can trip him up on the details later, because none of it’s going to hold. Have him taken back down; have her brought up. Seriously, good work.”
“Thanks.”
Reo stepped out of Observation with Mira.
“A fool for love,” she said.
“And a killer with it.”
“He didn’t plan any of it.” Mira walked with Eve as she stared holes through a vending machine. “He’s a follower. And he feels remorse.”
“She won’t. I don’t trust this machine. Or any of them. I’m getting a cold drink from my AC.”
“Allow me. You’re handing me a solid case on two cop killers. What’ll it be?” Reo asked.
“Pepsi.”
“Remorse or not”—Reo plugged in coins—“he’s going off-planet, and he’ll never get out.” She handed the tube to Eve.
“Thanks.”
“Peabody kicked butt in there.”
“She’s got it in her. Somebody like him though? It costs her some.”
She cracked the tube, drank deep.
“You, too,” Mira said.
“No, doesn’t cost me. I’m just tired of the whole fucking mess. It’s so senseless. A lot of them are, but this? She’s spent nearly ten years of her life plotting and planning and calculating how to murder, to revenge a dirty cop and a boy who didn’t love her. Any more than she loves the stupid fuck who killed for her.
“I need to set up for Arnez.”
As she walked to her office, she pulled out her ’link.
“We have them,” she said to Webster without preamble.
“You made an arrest?”
“Two. Have one confession—half bullshit. We’re about to bring the second into Interview. If you want to observe, get here.”
“Who?”
“The Greenleafs’ friends and upstairs neighbors. I don’t have time to brief you, Webster. Interview B, Observation. Hear it for yourself.”
She cut him off, and cooled her throat with Pepsi.
She’d take a few minutes to collect herself, she thought. Just level off. Maybe, as usual, Mira had it right. Maybe the interview with Robards had cost her—a little.
But mostly it infuriated her.
She could go into the box with Arnez pissed off. As long as the anger held well under the surface. The job wasn’t about her feelings, but about law, about justice.
So she’d take a few minutes to collect herself, to drink the damn Pepsi, to stand at her window and look out at New York.
Street traffic snarled, and the airtrams glided by. Drivers, passengers heading home after the workday. Her work wasn’t done, but when it was, she’d go home. And she’d shake it all off.
One more time.
She didn’t hear him come, not when he moved, always, like the cat burglar he’d been. But she sensed him as he stepped into her office.
He angled his head, those wild blue eyes on her face. “You don’t look like a woman who was right all along and made two arrests.”
“I am a woman who was right and made two arrests. I’ve got Arnez and her lawyer coming up to Interview. I’m finished with Robards.”
“I’m sorry I missed it.”
“Don’t be. He’s pathetic, pitiful. He’s an idiot.” She set the tube down before she hurled it.
“I had Peabody take him. She did good. She broke him.”
“All right.”
“It was all there. All of it.” She walked to her comp when it signaled. “Including this. Lab report on the rope we found in the goddamn kitchen closet of their apartment. Rope cut from the length they used to try to hang Ben Greenleaf. He had their ’links—Ben’s and his kid’s—in his closet. Not the bedroom, because that closet’s all hers. The home office closet where he keeps his clothes, and pictures of his family because she doesn’t want to see them.
“And what does he do when Peabody breaks him? When tears are running down his face? He claims Arnez had nothing to do with it, no knowledge of it. He did it all on his own. Just him, in his shiny, blood-streaked armor.”
“You won’t let that stand.”
“Fucking A. It’s all her, just like that apartment’s all her. They live where she wanted, how she wanted. He can have his things, as long as she doesn’t have to see them. She has a man who loves her enough to kill for her, and she uses that. You better believe she recognized that and exploited it. And she uses him to kill, to exact revenge for a dirty, corrupt cop who couldn’t face the consequences, and a boy who decided he’d rather blame everyone else and die.”
She shut her eyes. “The boy didn’t have to die. Shouldn’t have died. But nobody saw he was on the edge, not even the mother who loved him and was trying so hard to hold her family together.”
She opened eyes full of rage and pity. “And Arnez, because she couldn’t see past it, kept him on the edge with her drumbeat of payback. Her need to be the one the boy turned to, held on to.
“The boy didn’t love her; the man she used to kill did. It didn’t matter. Doesn’t matter. She’d let the man who loves her take the fall for her. I won’t.”
Saying nothing, Roarke stepped to her, put his arms around her.
“I’m fine. I’m okay.”
“You will be.”
“Robards loves her. Instead of saying, ‘Sorry, don’t feel the same,’ so he could move on, or building a real life with him, she uses him to get what she wants. What she’s wanted for almost ten years. Now he’ll spend the rest of his life in a cage.”
“You’ll see she does as well. I’ve no doubt you’re right and she used and exploited his feelings for and about her. But he chose, Eve.”
“He chose.” Nodding, she drew back. “His life, as he knew it, is over. Now it’s her turn.”
“Go take her down, Lieutenant.”
She walked back to Interview B. “Ready, Peabody?”
“Ready. Her lawyer’s Marcelle Congera. I did a quick search and she’s low-rent. She’s handled some misdemeanors—public intoxication, disturbing the peace, and a bunch of civil suits. Nothing heavy.”
“Let’s make sure Arnez gets what she paid for.”
“You don’t want me to take her.”
“Not this time. She’s mine.”
Eve opened the door. “Record on,” she began, and read the details for the record before she sat.
If she felt a smug little thrill seeing Arnez in the orange jumpsuit, well … she could be petty.
The lawyer wore a pale blue suit. About forty, Eve judged, with a long, thin neck, her shoulder-length black hair swept back from a sharp-featured, disapproving face.
“You humiliated my client at her place of employment, an act that could cost her her position, and did so in your aggressive attempt to find a scapegoat over a retired police officer’s death. We intend to pursue a civil suit.”
“Oh, well, in that case … Bring it. Your client will be pursuing her bullshit civil suit from a cage on Omega.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Congera pursed her thin lips. “I intend to file a motion of dismissal, all charges, and another for false arrest.”
“File all the motions you want—but I’d get a solid retainer before I did any work. I’ve got this feeling, Peabody—do you have this feeling?—that Ms. Congera’s client hasn’t been fully truthful and forthcoming with her legal representative.”
“I share that feeling.”
“For instance,” Eve said, “I wonder if Ms. Congera’s client disclosed that she had a close connection to Louis Noy and his family—including his son, Brice. She sure as hell didn’t disclose same when questioned after Captain Greenleaf’s murder.”
“I fail to see—”
“Then get your eyes fixed,” Eve suggested. “Captain Greenleaf investigated Louis Noy—formerly Captain Louis Noy of the NYPSD—for corruption, extortion, witness and evidence tampering, among other things.”
“That’s hardly—”
“Not quite finished. Louis Noy killed himself, at his desk, in his home office, with his service weapon. Brice Noy, at nineteen, hanged himself. They remembered you—Ellie—Ella and Taylor Noy remembered you very well. Funny you didn’t mention this connection.”
“Why would I? It was years ago. They were acquaintances. How would I possibly know Martin investigated Captain Noy? Why would I care?”
“Acquaintances?” She took out the prom photo, the preserved corsage.
“They’ve been through my things, my personal things.” Fury rose red and hot over Arnez’s cheeks. Her eyes blazed with it.
“A duly executed search.” Eve set the warrant on the table. “And look here. You even kept the prom dress.” Eve plopped the bagged dress on the table. “And oh, here’s another thing.” She took out the sealed ’link. “Tags and texts on this old model you kept in your treasure box.”
“Those are my personal property. You have no right to my personal property.” She rounded on Congera. “Fix this!”
“A duly executed search,” Eve repeated. “Tags and texts between you and Brice Noy. Intense tags and texts after his father’s disgrace, after the suicide. You knew who Martin Greenleaf was when you moved into the building.”
Congera looked a bit off-balance, but she rallied. “Souvenirs from nearly a decade ago are hardly evidence of a crime. Any more than my client’s acquaintance with someone Martin Greenleaf once investigated is evidence of a crime. You’ve overreached, Lieutenant.”
“They went through my things.” Arnez pounded a hand on the table. “Do something! Do your job.”
“Ms. Arnez.” Congera patted her arm as if to soothe. “They had a warrant, but this? This means nothing. Mementos from your teenage years. They’re reaching.”
“Yeah, we reached into that treasure box and found all these photos. Lots of them—all of the Noy family. Nobody else but you and the Noy family. No other friends, no other families, teachers, pets, whatever. Just you and your … acquaintances.”
“If this is all you have, Lieutenant, I’ll go file my motion to dismiss.”
“I wouldn’t be too hasty,” Eve warned as Congera started to rise. “You want something more current? Let’s see what we have in our NYPSD treasure box. What do you think, Peabody?”
“Oh yeah.” Peabody nodded when Eve took out the photos. “Those are gold.”
“I can’t show you the actual ropes, as they’re on their way into Evidence from the lab. Got the lab report right here though. See this length of rope? That’s the one used to hang Ben Greenleaf in his sister’s home at their father’s memorial. And this one?”
Eve nudged them both over. “That’s the rope we found in your client’s kitchen closet during our duly authorized search. As you see in the lab report, same rope, and the cuts on the end of each? Perfect match.”
“I’ve never seen that rope before. I wasn’t even there when Ben was attacked.”
“Sure you were, because you attacked him. How about these?” Eve took out the two ’links. “This one you took out of Ben’s pocket after you bashed him in the head with his niece’s baseball trophy. And this one? His daughter’s, the one you took from her purse and used to text him, as if from her, to lure him upstairs so you could kill him.”
“These are outrageous accusations.” But Congera no longer looked convinced.
“I’ve never seen those ’links. Obviously they planted them. Fix this! You fix this or you’re fired!”
“We’re not Louis Noy,” Eve snapped. “The dirty cop you made into a hero, a daddy substitute. And you were there. You shut down the security, stole the kid’s ’link, said your goodbyes before you slipped upstairs. Texted Ben, knocked him unconscious from behind, and, while he was out, put the noose around his neck, left him hanging. You went out through the master bedroom, the terrace doors, and out through the side gate.
“The trouble?” Eve continued. “Webster, again. He went up to check on Ben, found him, saved his life.”
“I was nowhere near Carlie’s house when Ben was attacked. Denzel will swear to that.”
“Well…” Eve shrugged. “He had his chance, didn’t. We already interviewed him.”
“Then he’s lying! Lying to protect himself. If he’s done these horrible things, it’s not my fault.”
“Huh. If he’s lying and he tried to kill Ben, how could he have done it alone if you were together?”
Arnez’s eyes flicked once before she dug in. “After we left the memorial, Denzel told me to go on home, that he had to run a few errands. I had a terrible headache, so I went home, took a sleeping pill.”
She’d bury him without a second’s hesitation, Eve thought. Because it’s all about her.
“I wonder why the security cams at your apartment building don’t show you coming home alone. I wonder why they show both you and Robards entering the building, together, less than thirty minutes after Ben was attacked.”
“I—I meant I took a walk to try to clear my head.” Casting her eyes down, she rubbed her temple. “It’s been a terrible few days. I took a walk, and Denzel caught up with me. Then I went in, took the pill.”
“So, somehow he doubled back—on his own—went back into the house, set Ben up, bashed him, then managed—on his own—to haul a hundred-and-eighty-five-pound unconscious man a foot off the ground. Then he left, and miraculously ran into you in time for the two of you to enter the apartment building together.”
“I’m not saying he did any of that. I’m saying I didn’t. I certainly didn’t kill Martin. I was with Beth and the others.”
“It’s interesting, I think, that ninety-eight seconds after security shows you leaving the building on the night of Martin Greenleaf’s murder, you texted Robards. All clear, you texted. We have your ’links, too.”
“So what? Just letting him know we were on our way to the bar.”
“Right. And also interesting, some seven minutes after time of death, Robards texted you. It’s done. You answered with a heart emoji.”
“I … I’d asked him to tidy up. He’d left a mess, and I was annoyed. He just wanted me to know he’d done that.”
“Obviously, my client has already proven she was elsewhere when Captain Greenleaf was killed. Therefore—”
“You unlocked the window. You know Beth’s habits—you’ve made a point to. Into the bedroom, and she’s fussing with shoes. Unlock the window with access to the fire escape. You text the all clear. Robards texts you it’s done.”
“You can’t prove any of that. It’s absurd.”
“You used one of Noy’s drop weapons. Did he give it to you—for protection maybe—the way he slipped you money now and again? Men like him like to buy loyalty. He sure bought yours.”
“Say nothing, Ms. Arnez. Lieutenant, I want to consult with my client.”
“He never loved you. Brice never loved you.”
Eve said it quietly, and saw it hit home.
“He didn’t keep a box with photos of you, of mementos to take out and look at, and think of you. He brought you home because he felt sorry for you—”
“Liar. Liar.”
“He liked people, liked being with them, helping them. He liked girls. He didn’t like you the way he liked other girls—so many of them. You must’ve hated them, the girls he spent time with instead of spending it with you.”
“You don’t know anything about it.”
“I think I do. He took you to the prom.” Eve laid a hand on the dress. “And told his sister he was taking you because you didn’t have any friends. A pity date.”
“That’s a lie.” She hissed it out. “You didn’t know Brice. You don’t know anything about him.”
“I’ve been getting to know the boy he was, so handsome, so bright. Kind. A boy from a happy family with a father at the head of it. You wanted him, wanted that family, that father. So you stuck, you had a goal. Brice was the goal.”
“Lieutenant,” Congera interrupted. “This is pure speculation.”
“Conclusions based on evidence. You inserted yourself into his family to achieve that goal—and maybe found something in Noy you didn’t have. That daddy figure. You inserted yourself into the Greenleaf family because you had a goal. Kill Captain Greenleaf, make it look like suicide, mirror your hero. Pay Greenleaf back. Not finished yet. Kill the son, mirror the boy you loved, pay them all back.
“Kill a good man, try to kill his son, all in memory of a boy who never loved you. He just felt sorry for you.”
