Page 48 of Obsession in Death

Vivi poured, doctored Peabody’s. “You need me to go?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Eve said before Carmine spoke. “Did Ledo have any trouble at your place—last night, or recently?”

“Ledo works hard to avoid trouble. If he smells it coming, he runs. It’s the funk and the junk that’ll kill him.”

“Actually, it was a pool cue.”

“What?” Carmine looked over the rim of his wide cup as Eve took hers from Vivi. “Ledo? Dead?”

“Since shortly after six this morning.”

“Did somebody go after him on his way from my place to his flop? He couldn’t have had that much on him. I have to check the feed.”

“I want a copy of your feed.”

Carmine looked back at Eve—she saw the protest in his eyes. Then he swore under his breath, pushed up. He crossed over to a house ’link.

“Who’s Ledo?” Vivi asked Eve.

“Small-time illegals dealer with a talent for pool currently on a slab at the morgue.”

Vivi shook her head. “I don’t know why people go around killing people. Life’s short enough, isn’t it? I’m sorry, Carmine,” she added as he came back over. “He was a friend of yours?”

“Not really, no. Just a Gametown regular. I’m having a copy of last night’s security feed sent to you at Central.”

“That’ll work.”

“If you’re looking at me for it, I’ve got one alibi here.” He sat again, ran a hand over Vivi’s bare leg when she sat on the low arm beside him. “And another still warming the bed. Security here will show me coming in this morning—right around five-thirty.”

“Okay. Do you know if anyone’s been hanging around, asking about him? Anybody new getting tight with him?”

“Nobody was tight with Ledo. He had some regulars who played with him, and he did his business—most of that in the tunnels, to keep it off the feed in case of a sweep. I never heard anybody get riled at him. Not seriously. Some of the female gamers might tell him to piss off when he’d try to do a come-on—but nothing ugly. I can’t see anybody beating him to death with a pool cue, and I know for a fact it didn’t happen in my place.”

Eve let his assumption of beaten to death ride. “Do you know where he lived?”

“A couple blocks from Gametown—and above. I’m not sure exactly, just it was close. He said something about it, or I heard. He lived in the Square.”

“Okay.” Eve set her cup down. “We appreciate the cooperation.”

“Did he have family?”

Surprised by the question, Eve, on the point of rising, sat again. “Why?”

“I’ll take care of the arrangements for him.”

“Why would you do that?”

“He was a regular, and he brought in business. He still had a rep with a cue, and gamers came in to play against him. People come in, they buy drinks, sex, play other games. He was a screwed-up junkie, but I never knew of him hurting anybody but himself. He doesn’t deserve to get shoved in the state furnace. If he doesn’t have somebody, I’ll take care of it.”

“He has a mother,” Peabody told him, glancing at her PPC. “In Trenton.”

Carmine nodded. “If she can’t afford to take care of him, I will. If you can let me know.”

“I can do that.”

“He was just a screwed-up, harmless asshole,” Carmine murmured.

And that, Eve thought, was the perfect epitaph for Ledo.

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