Page 50 of Passions in Death
She mimed swiping into the unsecured privacy room.
“It only takes a few seconds to come in, swipe in, get inside.”
With Peabody, she stepped inside, closed the door.
“He doesn’t think to secure it after the kill. Nervous, probably nervous, a little shock. This was likely a first kill.
“Can you do it, can you really do this?”
The room held little more than a bed. Blood had coagulated on the floor, and stained the air.
“She couldn’t have given the backup a specific time,” Peabody commented. “How could she know exactly when she’d be able to slip away without Shauna noticing?”
“Ballpark. She wants the party in full swing, wants this to be like the big deal that pumps it forward. Can’t ask her, but he can’t just drop it off because he has the swipe, and she needs it back. No other reason for her to want him to stay, or ask him to stay.”
“No place to hide in here,” Peabody pointed out. “She had to see him as soon as she opened the door.”
“That’s right. She’s a little drunk, a lot happy, and probably doesn’t think twice. Stand right there.”
Eve stepped out, then in again. “She sees him, and happy, a little impaired, excited, says something. ‘Oh, you’re here. Thanks for doing this!’ Turns, shuts the door. And he’s on her. Get on me.”
Peabody moved forward, cupped her hands around Eve’s throat to mimic the garrote.
“Pain, shock. Drops her purse. She can’t scream, but claws at the wire. Bam! He bashes her head against the door, and now she’s blacking out, choking, terrified. Helpless. Struggling, but helpless. Goes down right here, loses a shoe.”
After signaling Peabody back, Eve turned.
“He takes her ’link out of the purse. But he can’t take just that, has to take it because there’s communication on it, but he takes her jewelry, her cash, dumps the swipes. Takes the weapon and gets out the way he came.”
“It didn’t take long. Probably under five minutes. He may have waited for her longer,” Peabody added, “but this part was really quick.”
“Opportunity knocked.” She opened the door again. “We’ll head back to Central. See if you can reach Wanda Rogan, ChiChi Lopez, and bring them to us. I’ll let Crack know he can open tomorrow—after he gets a crime scene cleaner in here.”
“Greg Barney? Is he still top of the list?”
“We’ll keep him up there with Rierdon, do those deeper dives. Motivation’s weak and stupid on both, but with some, love can be both.”
Chapter Eight
When she got back to Homicide, Santiago and Carmichael sat at their desks. Jenkinson, his tie, and Reineke didn’t sit at theirs.
“They’re following a lead on the cold one,” Baxter told her.
“Good enough. Peabody, give the vic’s two former flitters another push. If we can’t get them in here, we’ll go to them.”
She went to her office, hit the AC for coffee. After taking her desk and writing up the interviews, she updated her board.
She stood studying it, then turned when Peabody came to her door.
“Rogan can be here in about thirty. I left another v-mail for Lopez.”
“Let’s take her in the lounge. We’ll keep it friendly, sympathetic, so you take the lead. You interviewed her last night, so she’s already got that connection.”
“Check.” Peabody glanced at the board. “A lot of overlap. Everyone on there’s connected to either Albright or Hunnicut, or both. And a lot of them are linked to each other.”
“Friendships can be incestuous.”
“I guess you could think about it that way.”
