Seduction In Death

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The body had been transported to the morgue and the crime scene cordoned off by the time Eve arrived. Warehouses streamed in a messy ribbon of brick and concrete along the choppy slice between access road and river.

And all had the washed-out, false glare from the police lights.

The media jammed around the barricades and sensors like Saturday night hopefuls vying to gain admission to an exclusive club. And there was just as much chatter from them in the form of shouted questions, demands, and pleas.

Uniformed officers stood in as bouncers. Most were smart enough to ignore the pleas, promises, and bribes for information. But, Eve knew, there would be one who'd weaken and spring the first leak in the data dam.

Accepting it as the natural relationship between cops and media, she hooked her badge on her jacket and started muscling her way through.

"Dallas, hey, Dallas!" Nadine Furst nipped her elbow. "What's the deal? Why were you called in? What's your connection to Theodore McNamara?"

"I'm a cop. He's dead."

"Come on, Dallas." Even in the harsh light, Nadine managed to look vivid and camera-ready. "They don't trot you out for every murder in the city."

She flashed an angry look at Nadine. "Nobody trots me out. Now step back, Nadine, you're in my way."

"All right, okay. But the word is it looks like a robbery/murder. Is that your take?"

"I don't know anything yet. Now friend or not, you move or I bust you for obstruction."

Nadine shifted aside. "Something's up," she whispered to her camera operator. "Something big. Pay attention. I'm going to call my contact at the morgue, see what I can wheedle out. Watch Dallas," she added. "If she's here, she's the center."

Eve pushed her way through reporters and gawkers. She caught a whiff of the river now, a sour smear on the air. The crime scene team was at work, the fluorescent yellow initials on the backs of their jackets searing through the hard white lights. The beam of the powerful portables spilled out onto the pitch-black surface of the river so that it gleamed like oil.

Outdoor, night-time murder, Eve thought, was black and white.

She signalled to a uniform. "Who's primary?"

"Detective Renfrew. Short guy, dark hair, brown suit and tie," she added with just a hint of a sneer in her voice. "That's him. Standing with his hands on his hips looking at the water like the perp's going to swim by doing the backstroke."

Eve studied his back. "Okay. Draw me a picture here."

"Couple of dock hands spotted the floater. Said they were taking their union-sanctioned break, and you have to figure they were using the river for a toilet. Called it in at twenty-two thirty. Nine-eleven caller IDed himself as Deke Jones. Body hadn't been in long or else the fish weren't very interested. Severe head and facial wounds. No clothes, no jewelry, no nothing. IDed him by his prints. Took him off in the dead wagon about fifteen minutes ago."

"This your patrol area… Officer Lewis?"

"Yes, sir. My partner and I responded to the nine-eleven. We were on-scene within three minutes. Dock workers were gathered around like a dirt clod, but nobody'd touched the body. And, Lieutenant? I mentioned this to the detective, but he didn't seem interested. There's a report of a car fire about a half mile from here. Late model lux sedan, no passengers. The way this current runs, it could be the dumping point."

"Okay, thanks. Renfrew's going to give me grief, isn't he?"

"Yes, sir." Lewis agreed. "He surely is."

Eve wasn't feeling patient, she wasn't feeling diplomatic, but she told herself she'd have to be both.

Renfrew turned at her approach. His gaze skimmed over her face, dipped briefly down to her badge.

"No one called Cop Central into this." His shoulders went up and back, like a boxer bracing for the first round.

She had a good inch on him in height, and watched as he flexed his body forward on his toes to compensate.

Oh yeah, she thought, noting his combative stance, he was going to give her grief. "I didn't get the tag from Central. I'm not looking to trespass on your turf, Detective Renfrew. Your victim's connected to one of my cases. I think we might be able to help each other out."

"I don't need your help, and I'm not interested in getting the fast shuffle from Central on my case."

"Okay, you can help me out."

"You're on my crime scene, and that makes one too many badges around here. I've got work to do."

"Detective, I need to know what you've got at this point."

"You think you can pull rank on me?" He rocked higher on his toes, jabbed a finger at her. "Waltz in here and take over a high-profile murder so you can get your face splashed all over the screen again? Forget it. I'm primary here."

Eve imagined grabbing the finger he had in her face, bending it back until the bone snapped. But she kept her voice level. "I'm not interested in screen time, in pulling rank, or in taking over your case, Renfrew. I'm interested in finding out why a man I had scheduled for formal interview tomorrow ends up dead in the river. I'm asking you to reach out with some courtesy and cooperation."

"Courtesy and cooperation. Fuck that. How much courtesy and cooperation did you show when you tore into the One-twenty-eight a couple months ago? I don't reach out to cops who turn on cops."

"Sounds like you've got issues, Renfrew. The One-two-eight was a mess, and a cop was killing cops."

He snorted through his nose. "So you say."

"So I say. And right now someone's killing women who think they're going out for a pleasant evening. Your case links to mine, so we can stand here and piss on each other or we can share information that could close both cases quickly,"

"This is my crime scene." He jabbed a finger at her again. "I say who comes on it and who doesn't. And I want you out. Remove yourself or I'll have you removed."

Eve stuck her hands in her pockets before she could give in to the urge and punch him. "Have me removed, Renfrew." She dug out her recorder, watched his face go red and tight as she fixed it to her jacket. "Officially and on record have me removed from a crime scene that is potentially linked to an ongoing homicide investigation of which I am primary. Have me removed after I've asked you for the cooperation and courtesy to exchange information that may aid in both investigations."

She stared him down, waited five humming seconds. Around them, crime scene techs had stopped their work to watch. "Have me removed," she said again, "but before you take that step, you'd better think carefully about how such an action will look on the official record, how it's going to play in the media who are standing at the edges of your scene, and how you're going to justify such an act to your superiors."

"Turn that goddamn recorder off."

"It stays on. We're past doing this the easy way. I'm identified as Dallas, Lieutenant Eve, and request from you, Renfrew…" She dropped her gaze to his badge. "… Detective Matthew, a report on your investigation into the death of Theodore McNamara as this same individual was a potential witness, a potential suspect in a series of homicides of which I am primary investigator."

"You can read my report when I file it. That's all I'm required to give you, Lieutenant. I've got nothing to say to you at this time."

When he stalked off, Eve hissed out a breath. She turned to one of the crime scene techs. "What have you got?"

"We've got nothing here. Body got tangled in some lines, otherwise it would've kept on keeping on. Renfrew, he's a dick. He should have a unit looking up-current for the dump site."

"Time of death?"

"Seventeen-forty."

"Thanks."

"Me, I'm loaded with cooperation and courtesy."

She spotted Peabody and headed over. "With me." She walked away from the crowd, passed through the barricade at its thinnest point. "I want you to check on an automotive torching, late model luxury vehicle. About a half mile from here. Find out who it's registered to."

"Yes, sir."

Eve pulled out her own 'link, then saw McNab. "What happened to you?"

"A slight altercation." He touched fingers gingerly to his bruised eye.

"Peabody, did you pop McNab?"

"No, sir."

"Since you're here and aren't in the middle of an altercation with my aide, you check on the torching. Peabody, cozy up with some of the uniforms, first on-scene was Lewis and her partner. See what else you can get from them. Steer clear of the primary. That's Detective Renfrew, the flaming asshole."

"Did you pop the flaming asshole, sir?"

"No, but it was a close call." She turned away and used her 'link.

When the ME answered, his voice was slurred with sleep.

"Gee, Morris, did I wake you up?"

"What is this, you never sleep so no one else is allowed to? What the hell time is it?"

"Time to do a friend a favor." When he sat up, shifted, Eve winced. "Man, either block video or watch the sheets, will you?"

"Despite male propaganda, I can officially attest that one man's balls are pretty much the same as another's." But he twitched the sheets back up to his waist. "But when you fantasize about me later, and you will, make it good. Now, what do you need?"

"You've got a victim checking into the morgue. McNamara, Theodore."

"Dr. Theodore McNamara?"

"That's the one."

Morris whistled. "Since I'm talking to you, I have to assume the famous doctor didn't buy it from natural causes."

"He's recently been plucked out of the East River, and it doesn't appear he'd decided to take a little swim."

"If you're calling to ask me to flag him priority, you're wasting a favor. High-profile name, high-profile treatment."

"That's not the favor. I'm not primary on this one, but McNamara's connected to my sexual homicides. I had a chat with him this afternoon, and had him booked for formal tomorrow. I need a head's-up on the autopsy. All the data from the body and from the primary's interaction with the pathologist assigned."

"Why doesn't the primary copy you?"

"He doesn't like me. I gotta tell you, my feelings are real hurt over it."

"Who's primary?"

"Renfrew, Detective Matthew."

"Ah." Morris plumped the pillows behind him, laid back. "Territorial little bastard, poor social skills, and a tendency to refuse to broaden his focus."

"In other words, a flaming asshole."

"In other words. I think I'll go in and take a look at the recently departed myself. I'll get back to you."

"Thanks, Morris. I owe you one."

"Yeah, I like that part."

"Morris? What's the tattoo?"

Grinning, Morris tapped a finger on the illustration just under his left nipple. "The Grim Reaper. An equal opportunity employer."

"You're a sick man, Morris." She clicked off. "A sick man."

She'd kept her back to the reporters as she talked, and her radar up. Most of them, with nothing to feed on, were slipping away to do quick live-remotes.

McNab jogged up to her.

"Walk and talk," she ordered. "I want to keep clear of the media. Once they make a connection, we lose whatever advantage we've got."

"It was McNamara's sedan. Good and torched. NYFD's saying there was a chemical accelerant. RD-52. It's a kind of flammable acid. You get a flash, fire burst, and it eats right through the metal while it burns. Really thorough. Witness saw the flash, went to take a look-see, and had the presence of mind to note down the vehicle ID before it evaporated. Five, ten more minutes, we'd have had nothing."

"Smart, but not smart enough. They should've blasted off the ID before they torched it. Little mistakes." She looked back toward the river. "Robbery, my ass. Who rolls a guy, even takes his clothes, then wastes a luxury sedan? What do you bet McNamara paid his killer a visit after I talked to him?"

"I'd put the bank on it."

"If Renfrew was less of a moron, we could wrap this up tonight." Staring into middle distance, she juggled possibilities. "Dunwood doesn't know Renfrew's a moron. Renfrew'll notify next of kin, but that's the wife. No reason for the grandson to come into play there. And no reason for me not to pay him a visit to express my sympathy for his loss and question him. Lucias Dunwood. Get his address. Let's shake him up."

"You got it."

They separated, and Eve made another call. This one to home. "Hi." She tried a smile when Roarke came on. "I guess they're still there, huh?"

As there was music blasting and the sound of half-drunken laughter rolling over it, Roarke just shrugged.

"Look, I'm sorry I dumped it on you. Maybe you should lock yourself in one of the rooms. They'll never find you in that place."

"I'm considering it. I take it you've called to let me know you'll be some time yet."

"I don't know how long. A lot going on. If I can't close it down tonight, I'm still going to need Mavis and Trina tomorrow. Maybe you should lock them in a room."

"Not to worry. I suspect they'll pass out soon enough."

"There's that. Hold on." She turned to McNab. "What?"

"Got an address, but it's bogus."

"What do you mean, bogus?"

"I mean the address listed for Lucias Dunwood is the Fun House, Times Square. I know because I spend a lot of time there. It's a big e-amusement center. No residences on premises."

"He likes to play games," she replied. "Give me some room here." She stepped away until she was out of earshot. "Listen – "

"You'd like me to find Dunwood's actual address."

"McNamara would've had it. I'm not going to be able to access his files from here because the primary on this is playing big stud dog with the investigation."

"I see." Roarke was already moving away from the music.

"I could call Whitney and get clearance, but that's messy. Plus, it makes me feel like a tattletale or something."

"Mm-hmm."

"I could tag Feeney, and he'd wangle authorization through EDD, but I've already gotten one person out of bed tonight." She glanced back at McNab. "Maybe more."

"And I'm already up."

"Yeah. Technically… well, just skimming the technicalities, I'm authorized to access some data because he's a suspect. Whether this data includes his address files or personal data is debatable, but I'd have clearance for it in the morning anyway so…"

"Why wait? Would you like that address now, or would you like to keep rationalizing a bit longer?"

She blew out a breath, noting that he'd gone up to his office while she'd been talking. "I'll just take the address."

He gave it to her. "Oh, Lieutenant? Since that's only a few blocks from here, perhaps you'll make it home while I still have my sanity."

"I'll do my best. Guess I owe you one, too."

"Be sure I'll collect."

She broke transmission, signalled McNab. "Get Peabody. We're moving."

She was nearly to her vehicle when she saw Nadine, leaning on the hood and examining her nails.

"That's city property you're resting your ass on."

"Why do they go out of their way to make official vehicles so ugly?"

"I don't know, but I'm taking it up with my Congressman first chance I get."

"Rumor is you and Detective Renfrew got into a little power tussle."

"Rumors are your department."

"Then you wouldn't be interested that rumor continues that he's a jerk and you cut him down bloodlessly." Nadine tossed her streaky blonde hair. "But you may be interested in a deduction, since deductions are your department. I deduce that Dr. Theodore McNamara plays into the sexual homicides you're investigating, that robbery had nothing to do with his ending up in the river, and that you have a very good idea who bashed him about the head and face earlier this evening. And whoever that may be has a starring role in your homicides."

"That's a lot of deducing, Nadine."

"Will you confirm?"

Eve merely crooked a finger, walked away. When the camera operator fell into step behind Nadine, Eve stopped her with one steely stare.

"Wait for me," Nadine told her. "She's just doing her job, Dallas."

"We're all just doing our jobs. Turn the recorder off."

"Recorder?"

"Don't waste my time. We go off record, or you get nothing."

Nadine sighed, heavily and strictly for form, then disconnected the recorder worked into her gold lapel pin. "Off record."

"You don't go on the air with anything until I tell you."

"Do I get a one-on-one?"

"Nadine, I don't have time to negotiate with you. For all I know there's another woman dead tonight and no one's found her yet. You go on air with your deductions and there could be another one dead tomorrow."

"Okay. It stays in holding until you say."

"McNamara's connected. I talked to him this afternoon. He wasn't cooperative. I believe he knew or suspected the identity of the killer. I believe he confronted that individual after our conversation, and as a result ended up a floater."

"That only confirms my deductions."

"I'm not finished. I believe the root of these murders goes back to a project partnered by J. Forrester and Allegany Pharmaceuticals nearly twenty-five years ago. Sex, scandals, illegals abuse, payoffs, and cover-ups. Dig there for your background and you'll be several steps ahead of the other networks."

"Was McNamara directly involved in the killings?"

"Years ago he spent a lot of time, energy, and money making sure that facts, actions, and criminal activities that should have been part of the public record were sealed. He refused to cooperate by volunteering information pertinent to the investigation of the murder of two women and the attack on another, instead opting to withhold that information. Did he kill them? No. Is he responsible? That's a moral call. That's not my department either."

Nadine touched her arm as Eve turned away. "I have a contact at the morgue. McNamara was struck several blows on the head and face nearly an hour before he died. One defensive wound, right wrist. While the initial injuries came from a blunt instrument about eight inches wide, the killing blow was delivered by a different weapon. A long, slim metal object such as a crowbar or tire iron that might be found in the tool kit of a car."

She paused. "I believe in the courtesy and cooperation of shared information."

"I really hate knowing that phrase is going to follow me around for the next six weeks."

Eve walked back to the car. "Backseat, McNab."

"How come I can't sit in front? I outrank her. And my legs're longer."

"She's my aide, you're ballast." She climbed in, and didn't speak again until McNab had stopped grumbling and arranged himself on the backseat. "We're going to pay a visit to Lucias Dunwood."

"How'd you get the address?"

She glanced at McNab in the rearview mirror. "I have my ways of ascertaining data. Peabody, you'll go in with me. McNab, you'll stay in the vehicle."

"But – "

"I go in with a uniform, not a uniform and a detective. And not a detective who looks like he spent his evening brawling in the streets. You'll stay behind, with your communicator open as mine will be. If we run into any trouble, you call for backup, then, using your judgment, decide whether you wait for that backup or come in and assist. Now I want you to get me another address. Kevin Morano."

Making the best of things he pulled out his PPC and stretched his length out on the backseat. "Hey, there's a candy bar taped to the back of the passenger's seat."

Even as Peabody swiveled around to try to look, Eve bared her teeth. "First one who touches it gets their fingers ripped off and stuffed up their nose."

Peabody sprang back into position. "You're hoarding candy."

"It's not a hoard. It's an emergency supply, which the sneaking candy thief who keeps raiding my office hasn't found yet. And if he or she does find it, I'll know why." She paused significantly. "And you will pay."

"I'm on a diet anyway."

"You don't need to diet, She-Body. You are a just-right female."

"McNab?" Eve said.

"Yes, sir."

"Shut up."

"It's all right, Dallas. We're a couple."

"A couple of what? No, don't tell me. Don't talk to me. Don't talk to each other. Let there be silence across the land."

Peabody managed to muffle a snicker, then tried to adjust the climate control manually.

"It's busted. Shut up."

Saying nothing, Peabody rolled down her window.

McNab shifted in the back. "Permission to speak on official business, sir?"

"What?"

"Kevin Morano's address. Yankee Stadium. Do you want me to contact Roarke and have him… I mean," he amended when she glared in the rearview, "do you want to implement your ways of ascertaining data?"

"No. I know where he lives."

When she stopped in front of the grand old brownstone, it was after one a.m. The house was dark but for the red pinprick of light on the armed security system.

"Are you armed, McNab?"

"My off-duty stunner."

"Keep it set on low, keep your communicator open. Don't approach the house unless I signal you to do so. Come on, Peabody, let's go wake this prick up."

She crossed the sidewalk. When she stepped onto the first stone stair, the security system went into a warning hum. She pressed the bell. Instantly light washed down from overhead and the security system went on first alert.

You are currently under surveillance. Please state your name and your business. Any attempt to enter the premises or cause damage to same, and this system will immediately notify the police and the neighborhood watch.

"Lieutenant Dallas, NYPSD." She held her badge up to the view screen. "I need to speak with Lucias Dunwood regarding a police matter."

One moment, please, while your identification is processed and verified… Please wait while Mr. Dunwood is informed of your request…

"Lieutenant, do you think – "

Eve shifted her body subtly, and stepped on Peabody's foot under camera range. "I think it's difficult having to wake Mr. Dunwood up to tell him about his grandfather's death. But there's never a good time for hard news, and no point in waiting for morning to give it."

"No, sir." Peabody cleared her throat, fixed a sober expression on her face as she realized she was being told they were likely under audio as well as video surveillance.

It took several minutes before the light in the first floor windows flashed on. She didn't hear locks being disengaged, which told her the door was fully soundproofed. It opened silently, and she got her first look at Lucias.

His bright red hair was disheveled. He wore a long white night-robe belted loosely at the waist. And gave every appearance of a young man just roused out of sleep, and puzzled as to the reason why.

"I'm sorry." He blinked owlishly. "You're the police?"

"Yes." She offered her badge again. "Are you Lucias Dunwood?"

"That's right. What's this about? Is there some trouble in the neighborhood?"

"Not that I'm aware of. May we come in and speak to you, Mr. Dunwood?"

"All right. Sorry, I'm a little punchy." He stepped back, gestured them into a wide foyer with marble floors glowing under the lights from a three-tiered silver chandelier. "I've been in bed a couple of hours. I'm not used to having the police come to my door."

"I'm sorry to disturb you so late. I have some difficult news. It might be better if we sat down."

"What kind of news? What's wrong?"

"Mr. Dunwood, I'm sorry to tell you that your grandfather is dead."

"My grandfather?"

Eve watched with reluctant admiration as he paled, lifted a hand that trembled very slightly to his lips. "Dead? My grandfather's dead? Was there an accident?"

"No, he was murdered."

"Murdered? Oh God, oh my God. I do need to sit down." He made it as far as a long silver bench in the foyer, then collapsed on it. "I can't believe this. It's like I'm dreaming. What happened? What happened to him?"

"Your grandfather was found in the East River earlier tonight. The investigation into his death is underway. I'm sorry for your loss, Mr. Dunwood, but it would help us if you'd answer some questions."

"Of course. Of course I will."

"Are you here alone?"

"Alone?" His head came up and she saw suspicion pass quickly over his face before he lowered it again.

"If you're alone, perhaps there's someone you'd like my aide to call. To stay with you."

"No. No, I'm all right. I'll be all right."

"When's the last time you saw your grandfather?"

"He's been away, some consult business off planet. I suppose it's been several weeks."

"Did he at that time express to you any concerns, any fears for his safety?"

"Why no." Lucias looked up again. "I don't understand."

"There's a possibility your grandfather was killed by someone he knew. A car registered in his name was set on fire only hours before his body was found. The car was parked near the ground-shuttle tracks off East One-forty-three. Are you aware of any business that would take him to that area?"

"None whatsoever. His car was set on fire? That sounds like – like some sort of vendetta. But Grandfather was, he was a humanitarian, a great man who dedicated his life to medicine and research. This has to be some terrible mistake."

"Are you studying to be a doctor?"

"I'm taking a leave from schooling just now." He pressed his fingers to his temple, covering most of his face. And Eve studied the dragon's head carved into the sapphire in the blended gold ring on his right hand.

"I wanted time to think, to explore, to decide what area of medicine would suit me best. My grandfather…" His voice broke, he looked away. "He leaves big footprints to fill. He was my mentor, my inspiration."

"I'm sure he was very proud of you. You were close then?"

"I think so. He was larger than life, a man who drove himself to excel. I hope to be worthy of his memory. To end like this, thrown in the river like… sewage. My God, to have been stripped of his dignity at the end of his life. How he would hate that. You have to find who did this to him, Lieutenant. They have to pay for what they did."

"We'll find them, and they'll pay. I'm sorry, but I have to ask, it's standard procedure. Can you account for your whereabouts tonight, between the hours of seven and midnight?"

"My… Christ. I hadn't thought… I'd be a kind of suspect. I was home here until about eight-thirty. Then I went out to a club. I didn't actually talk to anyone. Didn't see anyone very interesting. I'd been hoping… Okay, I confess. I'd thought I might pick up a girl for the evening, but it didn't work out. I came home early. Ten-thirty, I'd say. My security system would verify that."

"So you were alone, essentially?"

"I have a house droid." He got to his feet. "I can get it. You can question it as to when I left, when I came back. Oh, and I have a cash receipt for drinks. I'm sure they're time and date stamped. Will that help?"

"Very much. We'll just clear this up so we can move on in the investigation."

"Anything I can do. Anything to help. I'll get the droid. And while you're doing the questioning, I'll get the receipt. I'm sure I stuck it in my pocket."

"Appreciate it. Oh, I should tell you your address is mis-listed in the city files."

"Excuse me?"

"Your address, there's an error. I got your correct location from your grandfather's files. You might want to see to that, when you get the chance."

"How odd. Yes, I'll take care of it. Excuse me just a minute."

He got the droid, having no doubt Kevin's careful re-programming and falsified input would hold. But his fists were clenched when he strode into his bedroom. Kevin rushed in behind him.

"You said they'd never identify the car."

"Well, they did," Lucias shot back. "But it doesn't matter. Everything's fine. Looks like it's just as well that stupid bitch didn't show up at Jean-Luc's tonight. I wouldn't have this." He tugged the receipt out of his trouser pocket. "Alibied all around, and playing the shocked and grieving grandson."

"What about me?"

"They don't know about you, and there's no reason they should. There's no connection between this and the project as far as the cops are concerned. And no connection that can be proved between me and my grandfather's death. Just stay up here and be quiet. I'm handling this."

He hurried down again. "Lieutenant, in my pocket, just as I thought." He handed Eve the receipt.

"Fine. I'd like my aide to make a copy of this for the files."

"Of course."

He waited while Peabody scanned the receipt. "Is there anything else I can do? Anything at all?"

"Not at this time. We'll be in touch."

"You'll let me know if you – when you find who did this."

"You'll be the first," Eve promised.

She walked back to the car, slid behind the wheel. "Cold-blooded son of a bitch. He was enjoying that."

"Droid could've been reprogrammed," McNab said from the backseat. "Same for the security. The guy who's been doing the e-work could've done both. It'd be cake."

"Still, we didn't get much out of him," Peabody complained.

"Didn't we?" Eve tapped her fingers on the wheel. "I never said his grandfather's name and he never asked. He has the requisite two, both New York City residents. But he never asked which one was dead. Didn't have to ask. And that bit about being stripped of his dignity at the end of his life. That's just what he'd done. What he'd intended to do. And he out-thought himself by not just saying his pal and housemate Kevin was with him part of the evening. Didn't want to share the spotlight."

"I guess we got more out of him than I thought."

"That's right. Little mistakes."