Strangers in Death (33 page)

“Yes,” Mira agreed when Eve turned to her. “For a goal-oriented personality, one who sees the big picture, the planning is part of the reward. For one who’s skilled in long-term role-playing, there would be considerable satisfaction in the success of that role. But you’re talking years, Eve. Any actor, even one so amoral and self-serving, would require breaks.”

“The vic traveled a lot, she encouraged it. And she would often entertain during those trips, leaving out the vic’s nephew and closer friends. Her parties, her way. And Charles. He added to her cover, to the picture, but let’s not discount the release of good sex—especially when you’re in the driver’s seat. The client holds the power with an LC.”

“If she did Custer, she must’ve stalked him,” McNab put in. “The wife couldn’t know what bar he’d troll in the night of. And Anders couldn’t have pulled it off on impulse. She had to be set.”

“Exactly right. We’ll canvass his haunts again, and show Ava’s photo, and the photo of her with red hair I’m having Yancy generate. She picked the flop, had to. Her type wouldn’t leave that to chance.”

“Agreed,” Mira said.

“We find a connection between her and the flop. Show her photo there. She’s not going to be alibied for the night of Custer’s murder, but we’re going to get that solid. She bought the wig, she bought the clothes. We’re going to find out where. We’re going to go over the case file from the father-in-law’s death and find her mistakes. And we’re going to bring her in. We’re going to sew her up, and we’re going to take her down for two counts of murder, and one count of conspiracy to commit.”

“Suzanne Custer,” Baxter murmured.

“Yeah, she’s the needle in the haystack
and
the needle for the thread. She trusts you.”

“Yeah.” Baxter sighed it. “Yeah, she does.”

“We’ll use that. We’re going to break her down, Baxter, you and me. We’ll break her because she’s not built like Ava.”

“She got nervous.” Trueheart shifted his attention to Baxter. “When we went back to talk to her, a few days after the murder, she was jumpy and nervous. She didn’t want to talk to us. You smoothed her down.”

“Yeah, yeah. It set off a little buzz, but there was nothing to tie her. Nothing. So I put it down to regular nerves and the situation. She had me, goddamn it.”

“Now we’ve got her,” Eve reminded him. “Dr. Mira, can you give us a personality profile on Suzanne Custer?”

“From Detective Baxter’s overview, I’d say she’s a woman who accepts or perhaps expects her own victimization. She accepted, or certainly lived with, her husband’s behavior. While it appears she sought more for her children, she failed to take advantage of programs offered for abused women. It’s possible she didn’t see herself as such. She doesn’t control, or seek control. At this point, until further study, my opinion would be she fears and seeks those with authority over her.”

“A woman who does what she’s told.”

“So it would seem,” Mira said, “from the data I have at this point. I’d like to look at her background, her childhood.”

“I’d appreciate if you could do that ASAP. Feeney, McNab, I need a search on electronic purchases. Look for the wig, costumes re Ava. Dig in. She may have picked them up a year ago, two years. Hell, she might’ve had them for a decade. Look for all communications between her and Suzanne Custer and her personal ’links, and any at Anders’s. I’ve got warrants to check all communication devices owned by Plowder and Bride-West.”

“On it,” Feeney told her, and kept eating.

“Trueheart, you’re with Peabody. Check for Suzanne’s purchases at a smut shop called Just Sex. Her husband shopped there, so odds are if she needed anything for the job, that’s where she’d go. Get the medicals on her from her health clinic—a Dr. Yin—and prescriptions from its pharmacy. Tap the Transit Authority. She had to get from her apartment to the Anders house and back. Mother of two, I bet she uses the subway routinely, and a fare card.”

“Lieutenant.” Trueheart raised his hand and lowered it again as Baxter elbowed him. “I don’t think she’d leave the kids alone. I don’t think she’d have gone out and left her kids unattended. She’s just not the type for it.”

“Okay. Then let’s find out if she got a sitter, or where her kids were on the night of. If the civilian has time…”

“The civilian can probably carve out a few minutes here and there,” Roarke commented.

“A remote was used to shut down the security at the Anders house. A high-end and illegal remote. Where did it come from and which one of our killers obtained it? I haven’t picked up a hot one there. You find out.”

“Not as entertaining as a visit to a smut shop,” Roarke considered, “but the black market has some appeal.”

“Good luck.” Feeney saluted him. “Coulda been any of a couple dozen types—or versions of types—picked up any time within the last couple years. Coulda been homemade, for that matter, you had any snap for it.”

Roarke smiled at him. “Adds to the fun, doesn’t it?”

“Let’s all go out and have fun. Baxter,” Eve said, “with me.”

I
wouldn’t have pegged her.” Baxter brooded out the side window as Eve drove. “She snowed me right from the get.”

“You didn’t peg her because she didn’t do it.”

“Same thing as doing it, and I didn’t get a whiff. The boy did. When we went back and she was nervy, he caught the whiff. And I blew it off, explained it away. I didn’t see it, didn’t smell it, didn’t hear it.”

“Guess you’d better turn in your papers, then. I hear private security’s a good gig for washed-out cops.”

“To borrow a phrase, bite me.” But it didn’t seem he could work up any steam. “She’s soft, Dallas. Mira’ll come up with her psycho-whatever, but it comes down to her being a soft sort, a little wounded, a lot tired. Mousy, if you get me. Right now, with all you worked out, I’m trying to see her going into that house, pumping Anders full of tranqs and setting him up like a kink kill, and I can’t see it.”

“You like her. You feel sorry for her.”

Irritation tightened his face. “I like lots of people, and feel sorry for some. That doesn’t stop me from seeing a stone killer when she’s in my damn face.”

“You’re taking it personal, Baxter.”

“Damn right I am.” There was steam now as he jerked toward Eve. “And don’t give me any of that objectivity crap. You wouldn’t be so fucking good at the job if you didn’t take it personal.”

Eve gave him a minute to stew. “You want me to tell you you screwed up? You missed it? You didn’t see what you should’ve seen? Nothing I’d like better because it makes my day to ream out a smart-ass pig-eater like you. But I can’t do it. You didn’t screw up. You can’t miss what’s not in play, and can’t see what isn’t there.”

“You saw Ava Anders.”

“I didn’t like her goddamn face—and yeah, some of it was personal. I wouldn’t have seen the how if you hadn’t nagged my
ass
off about Custer. So reschedule your pity party, Baxter. We don’t have time for it now.”

“Assuming we’re playing to our strengths, you’ll be taking bad cop.”

“And you’d be the cop with the soft spot for the tragic, little widow.”

“Yeah.” He hissed out a breath. “Fucking A. I feel played, so I’ll be picking up the hats and balloons for the pity party later.”

“Don’t forget the cake.” She scouted out a parking spot as she neared Suzanne’s address. “It’s going to spook her, seeing me instead of Trueheart. Having to go into Central. If she’s thought about any of this happening, she may have thought about lawyers. You need to reassure her. Routine, tying things up.”

“I know how to play good cop.” He got out, waited for Eve on the sidewalk. “I need to take the lead with her, initially, keep her steady, make her think I’m a little ticked that you’re insisting on the official routine.”

“I know how to play bad cop,” Eve countered.

It was a miserable post–Urban War building. One of the structures tossed up from the rubble and never intended to last. Its concrete gray walls were blackened with age and weather, scored with graceless graffiti and misspelled obscenities.

They walked into a narrow, frigid entryway and took the rusted metal stairs up to the third floor. Everything echoed, Eve noted. Their feet on the treads, the sounds leaking out of doors and walls as they passed by, the noises from the street outside.

But none of the early spring warmth pushed in to boost the chilly air.

Baxter positioned himself at the door, knocked. The over-bright sound of kids and Saturday morning screen whooped on the other side. One of those odd and somehow creepy morning cartoon deals that had the kids yammering and squealing, Eve imagined.

Who made those things?

A high-pitched girly voice called out for mommy so clearly, the door itself might’ve been made of paper.

The locks thunked, and the door scraped and groaned as it opened.

She’d been pretty once, Eve thought at her first in-person study of Suzanne Custer. She might be pretty again, given decent nutrition, reasonable sleep, a break from stress. As Eve didn’t see those elements in her future, she thought Suzanne’s pretty days were long over.

She looked exhausted, pale, too thin, as if the meat under her skin had been gnawed away. Her dull, listless hair had been pulled back, leaving her tired face defenseless. A small, round-eyed kid of the male variety (probably) stood at her side.

“Detective Baxter.”

“Mrs. Custer. Hey there, Todd!” Baxter flashed a grin, shot the boy with his finger.

“We’re watching ’toons.”

“So I hear. Hi, Maizie.”

The little girl had a year or two on her brother, and the soft prettiness that had once been her mother’s. She sent Baxter a big, beaming smile.

“I’m sorry.” Suzanne shoved at her hair, then reached down to wrap her arm around her son’s shoulders. “We’re a little disorganized this morning. I was…just cleaning up after breakfast, before I take the kids to practice. Is this…do you have any…Can this wait until later?”

“I’m afraid it can’t, Mrs. Custer.” Eve edged Baxter aside, and all but felt his annoyed frown. “We have a number of things to clear up, and we’ll need to handle this at Central.”

“At Central? But—”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Custer.” Baxter’s voice poured warm cream over quiet apology. “This is my lieutenant. As we’ve been unable to close your husband’s case in a timely manner, Lieutenant Dallas needs to see to some procedural matters.”

“At Central,” Eve said, clipping the words.

“But, my kids.”

“I don’t—”

“Lieutenant, please.” Baxter interrupted Eve, then eased forward toward Suzanne. “I can arrange to have them taken to practice, or you can bring them with you and we’ll see they’re supervised while we finish this up. Whichever you want.”

“I don’t know. I—”

“I can’t miss practice.” Cartoons forgotten, Maizie jumped up. “I just
can’t.
Mom, please!”

“Why don’t I take care of their transportation?” Baxter suggested. “And have a couple of officers stay with them. Then when we’re done, we’ll make sure you get to the field. Okay, LT?”

Eve only shrugged, as if she didn’t give a damn. “Make it fast. You’ve put enough time and department resources into this. I’ll wait outside.”

“Sorry about that,” Eve heard Baxter say as she walked away. “The lieutenant’s a stickler for procedure. I’ll try to fast-walk all this through.”

On the street, Eve checked in with Peabody. “Status?”

“Wallowing in smut. I had no idea there were so many devices designed to be inserted in orifices. Many are sold in variety and party packs. You can select one of forty-dollar value with any body piercing.”

“That’s a deal.”

“Well, it’s kind of tempting. McNab would wig in a completely excellent way. But seeing as I’m on duty…”

“Seeing as. But keep jabbering, Peabody, and I’ll give you a completely free piercing back at Central.”

“We have a clerk who recognized Suzanne Custer,” Peabody said quickly. “Made her right off. Said she remembered because she—Suzanne—looked so off the rails. She bought several of the items that match those on the Anders scene. The clerk didn’t want to bother checking on it, but she’s flirting with Trueheart.”

“Trueheart’s flirting with a smut shop clerk? What has Baxter done to that kid?”

“No, no,
she’s
doing the flirt thing. He’s turned all shades of red, but that’s worked for us.” Peabody grinned. “It is pretty damn cute. So she checked, and we’re getting the paperwork. Suzanne didn’t buy the rope here. But, she asked about it. They were out of the velvet bondage set. It’s a popular item, as we learned when we did the initial search.”

“Check the shops closest to your current location. And if you come back with any piercings, they better not be visible.”

“Ouch,” Peabody said as Eve clicked off.

O
nce she had Suzanne at Central, Eve left her in Interview to sweat for fifteen minutes and watched through the observation window.

“She’s terrified,” Baxter said.

“Good. It probably won’t take very long to break her down. You go in first, make your apologies for the mean old LT.” She glanced over as Mira stepped in.

“She looks worn down. Eaten up.” Her face impassive, Mira stepped closer to the glass. “Guilt would be a viable weapon on her. And her children, they’d be a vulnerable area. She’ll fear you the most,” she said to Eve. “The capable, powerful female—everything she’s not. The authority figure. As, I suspect, Ava Anders is to her. She’s accustomed to violence. It won’t frighten her overmuch. Nor will threats to her person, as she’s accustomed to those as well. She’s also used to being isolated, cut off from any support. So offers of friendship, understanding, support draw her in. Her children are her one accomplishment. She would sacrifice a great deal for them.”

“I need to make her flip on Ava.”

“She’ll need to believe you’re more powerful, and more dangerous than Ava.”

“I am, so she will. Go,” Eve told Baxter.

“The friendship offered by Ava,” Mira continued as Baxter stepped out, “the support, the bargain struck—if indeed one was—weigh heavily on Ava’s side. The power Ava has over her now is tremendous.”

“I know how to play her.” When Mira said nothing, Eve watched Baxter enter Interview, listened to him speak reassuringly to Suzanne. “I know what it’s like to be knocked around regular, isolated, held down so you believe it’s the only way. And I know how far you’ll go to make it stop.”