Page 31 of Bonded in Death

2024. Thirty-seven years death had waited. Had the killer kept it all that time? Hidden away somewhere until he carefully drew the skull and crossbones, rigged the trigger?

Phosphine = fumigation. Kill rats, pests. Wasps = pests.

“Saved it for you. Specifically you? Like crimes isn’t going to hit.”

She’d run them anyway, but it wouldn’t hit.

Peabody came down the hall.

“The Rossis are here.”

“Faster than I figured.” She started to get up.

“I thought we’d do the lounge, but she’s really hurting, Dallas. So I booked a conference room instead. More private. Maybe I could transfer some of your coffee, the tea you stock for Mira into the AC there.”

“That’s fine. How do you kill a rabbit?”

“Aw.”

“He might’ve killed the other three he named. A method designed for them. Kill the Wasp—poison gas. Kill the rabbit?”

Peabody worked on the AC transfer. “We used stinky repellents—harmless, but really foul—to discourage rabbit and deer from the gardens.”

“He’s no Free-Ager, Peabody.”

“Maybe poison—bait a trap. Maybe shoot—gun or arrow—like they used to. If he had that canister, he could have illegal weapons.”

“Yes, he could. Poisoned bait, a trap, seems more his style than a bullet. Nothing time-consuming or complicated about a bullet.”

She’d play with that, but for now, she walked out with Peabody. She recognized the mother and son who sat on the bench outside her bullpen. The mother had her magnificent hair carefully rolled into a bun at the back of her head and wore a stark black dress. The son wore a suit, also black.

As if they were already attending a funeral.

They sat close, hands linked together.

Though Antonio Rossi resembled his father more than his mother, they wore twin expressions of shocked misery.

When Antonio saw Eve, he squeezed his mother’s hand, murmured something to her, then rose.

“Lieutenant Dallas.”

“Mr. Rossi.” She shook his hand. “Ms. Rossi, if you’d both come with us, we have a quiet place we can talk.”

“He was very kind.” Anna Maria got to her feet. Her English carried a heavier accent than her son’s, but there would be no need for the translator. “The Dr. Morris. Very gentle and kind. My Gio was very gentle and kind.”

“Come, Mamma.” Antonio put an arm around her, led her down the hall with Eve and Peabody. “The medical examiner said we can’t take Papà home yet.”

“No, I’m sorry. Not yet.”

“How long must he stay in that place?” The widow’s voice thickened with tears. “The doctor was kind, but that place, it’s cold. Gio likes the warm.”

“I promise, we’ll clear it for you to take him home as soon as possible.”

“His mother. I had to tell his mother he was gone. She lost her youngest son in the Urbans, and her husband, Gio’s papà, he died young from wounds that had never healed from that time. And now another son, lost. I promised her I’d bring him home.”

“She’s a hundred and two,” Antonio added. “And more frail than we’d like.”

“I understand. I hope we can let you take him home soon.” Eve gestured them into the conference room.

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