Page 135 of Passions in Death
“Hope you nail him good and hard.”
“That’s the plan. Can you copy all that for me, Feeney, and send?”
“Already did. Thinking time,” he told her. “Take some.”
“Yeah, I’m going to. Soon as I can. Thanks. You, too, Callendar.”
As she started out through the color, movement, and sound, her ’link signaled.
She pulled it out as she went, scanned the text from Peabody.
Mira just got a window. She can give you about fifteen if you go now.
On my way. Keep pushing on the high school angle. Move to college if possible. Back in twenty.
Movement, she thought as she hopped on a glide. Callendar had given her a new perspective of the man his friends described as a nice guy, a helpful guy, an average guy.
There would be other perspectives, too. Maybe enough when they put them all together, that would give her some buttons to push.
Chapter Twenty
The dragon who guarded Mira’s office didn’t look very pleased when Eve strode in. But she tapped her earpiece.
“Dr. Mira, Lieutenant Dallas is here. Yes, I will. Go right in.” She slanted Eve a look. “You’re on the clock, Lieutenant.”
“Understood.”
Eve gave the door a quick knock, then stepped inside.
Mira already stood, programming what Eve knew would be tea. She wore a slim, plum-colored dress with a short white jacket, and heels that merged the two colors with tiny checks. A gold chain with little, flat pearly disks draped down the purple bodice. Even smaller pearly disks dangled with purple ones from her ears.
It never failed to amaze Eve how Mira managed it.
“I had a couple minutes to look over your report,” Mira said as the flowery scent of the tea wafted into the air.
“I appreciate it.”
“It’s interesting. Have a seat.”
Eve took one of Mira’s two blue scoop chairs, accepted the tea in its fancy cup. Mira tucked a strand of mink-colored hair behind her ear and took the other.
“I found your side notes even more interesting. I sometimes wonder if you’re bucking for my job.”
“Not hardly.”
Mira smiled. “You’d be good at it. But then part of being a good investigator is understanding who and what people are. ChiChi Lopez, definitely narcissistic tendencies, but much of her sense of self-worth is tied to her physicality, and more narrowly, her sexuality. A difficult woman who uses that physicality and sex to attain what she wants. Attention, approval, admiration.”
Mira sipped some tea. “It may be different with her family, but in her other relationships, emotions, genuine emotions, have played little part. So when she finds herself with genuine feelings for Erin Albright, and these feelings aren’t returned, her resentment, her anger, and her bafflement are aimed at the person Erin has feelings for.”
“Not at Erin.”
“That’s not my read, no. Erin had to be misled, somehow deceived, as in every way Lopez—to her mind—is superior to her rival. Even that confident superiority isn’t enough as time passes. The rival must become a trickster, a manipulator, a liar, a cheat, a user. And in the end, when Erin is killed, the rival must be responsible, must take the blame.”
Mira paused, smiled again. “Which, clearly, you concluded yourself.”
“More or less. If Albright had been killed with a handy blunt object, I’d narrow on her. Crime of passion, heat of the moment, I could see it. But to plan it out like this, execute it like this? If Hunnicut was the victim, again, I’d narrow on Lopez.”
“I absolutely agree. So. Greg Barney.”
