Page 131 of Passions in Death
Eve shook her head. “I don’t see her pulling it off. I can see her trying but failing. She’s a performer, but that’s her body, not so much her face. Something would’ve showed. If Crack didn’t see something in her, Angie would have. She’s got a sharp eye.”
Eve wandered, drank coffee. “All of those points can, as I demonstrated, be countered. I hope she pays a price for what she did today, but she won’t go down for murder.”
“You think it’s Greg Barney.”
“I know it is now.” Turning, Eve studied his face on her board.
Attractive, well-groomed, well-dressed, an easy, friendly smile.
“He smirked.”
“Sorry? What? He smirked? At Lopez today?”
“No, not at Lopez, at Shauna. Between the slap and the punch. Lopez goes after Shauna verbally. Everybody’s shocked, but he’s fascinated. There were a couple more fascinated. And a couple of angry reactions. Angie, for instance, was pissed. Then the slap.”
Certain of her ground, Eve turned back around. “You’ve got that split second, that—” Eve snapped her fingers. “Everybody’s holy shit, or what the fuck. But he smirked. He’s looking right at Shauna with that red blaze from Lopez’s hand across her cheek, and he smirks. Like: Yeah, nice job. He covered it fast; he’s got a good mask. But I saw it. Smirked, and you bet your ass he had to swallow a laugh.”
“Um, are there counterpoints?”
“Oh, plenty. Involuntary reaction, nervous twitch.” Eve shrugged. “But he enjoyed that moment. He enjoyed watching Shauna’s emotional speech interrupted by a hostile drunk. And he seriously enjoyed the slap.”
She tapped her lapel. “I turned on my recorder when Lopez started her rant.”
“You recorded the smirk?”
“I had a decent angle. I’m going to have EDD enhance it. A smirk’s not evidence, and we’ve got precious little. But I add that to the nerves outside the apartment, the way he handled the box. Add it to the no-alibi that was perfectly presented as alibi, the high school relationship, the hovering.”
“You think he’s in love with Shauna?”
“No, I don’t think he loves anyone but himself.”
She eased a hip on the side of her desk, then pushed off again. No, not ready to sit.
“He lost the Shaun part of Shaunbar. He’d been a star in high school, but part of that shine came from her, being coupled with her. Then they’re back home after college, but she moved to the city. So he moves to the city, practically on top of her.”
“The hovering.”
“And the access to that shine. But she’s not interested in going back to high school. So he starts up with her good friend and the self-identified high school wheeze. Gets some shine there. And Shauna’s not really with anyone, or not with anyone for long.”
“Until Erin.”
“Until Erin.”
“That changes everything,” Peabody said, picking up the threads. “She’s in her first real relationship since him.”
“And she switched teams,” Eve added.
Peabody frowned again. “Do you think that matters?”
“To him, yeah, it does. It matters to him. It’s salt-in-the-wound time for someone like Barney. Look at his background, Peabody. His family is nearly universally straight, WASPy types. Any who aren’t tend to move away. You hook up with someone of the opposite sex, eventually marry in that sector, preferably of the same race, culture, and likely creed if you’ve got one. You live a traditional, by those standards, life and produce a kid or possibly two. Divorce is frowned upon, so choose that life mate wisely.”
“But he’s not with Shauna, and hasn’t been for years. Why would it matter so much, matter enough to kill?”
“Because she still belongs to him.”
She tapped the board, Barney’s photo, then Lopez’s.
“They’re a lot alike, these two. Self-important, the center of their own worlds, tight families where, I’d say, they’re well loved, even admired.”
