Reunion in Death

*** CHAPTER 18 ***

She watched while Peabody settled Maureen Stibbs in a chair at the wobbly table, set the record, offered the interview subject a drink of water.

Brisk, professional, Eve thought with approval. Not too threatening. Not yet.

And there was Officer Troy Trueheart posted at the door looking young and All-American … and about as grim as a cocker spaniel puppy.

She could sense Peabody's nerves, see them in the quick glance she flicked toward the glass as she poured the water.

But the uniform was enough, Eve decided as Maureen's eyes darted between Peabody and Trueheart.

People usually saw what they expected to see.

«I still don't understand why I had to come all the way down here.» Maureen took a tiny sip of water, like a butterfly at a blossom. «My husband and daughter will be expecting me home soon.»

«This shouldn't take long. We appreciate your cooperation, Mrs. Stibbs. I'm sure your husband will appreciate your help in this matter. It must be difficult for both of you to have this case remain open.»

Good, good, put it in her lap, Eve urged. Make her a part of it, bring up the husband every chance you get.

Eve shifted her weight, tucked her thumbs in her front pockets as Peabody took Maureen through the story and statement she'd given before, asked her to repeat or expand on certain details.

«In EDD we don't do a lot of interviews.» McNab toyed restlessly with the nest of earrings on his left ear. «How's she doing?»

«Good, she's doing good. Getting her rhythm.»

Inside, Peabody wasn't quite as confident, but she kept plugging.

«I've said all this before. Over and over.» Maureen pushed the cup of water aside. «What good does it do to make us all live through it again? She's been gone for years.»

«She doesn't say dead,» Eve commented. «She doesn't say Marsha's name. She can't because it brings it too close to home. Peabody needs to press that button.»

«Marsha's death must have shocked you very much at the time. You were close friends.»

«Yes, yes, of course. Everyone was shocked and upset. But we've put it behind us.»

«You and Marsha were close,» Peabody said again. «Friends and neighbors. But you say she never mentioned being dissatisfied in her marriage, never spoke of a relationship with another man.»

«Some things even friends and neighbors don't discuss.»

«Holding in a secret like that would be hard, stressful.»

«I don't know.» Maureen pulled the water back toward her, drank. «I've never cheated on my husband.»

«Your marriage is secure. Solid.»

«Of course it is. Of course.»

«You had a difficult obstacle to overcome.»

Water spilled over the rim of the cup as Maureen's hand shook. «I'm sorry?»

«Marsha. She was an obstacle.»

«I don't know what you mean. What are you saying?»

«A first wife in what was by all accounts a happy marriage. You agree, and have stated for the record in this investigation that Boyd Stibbs loved Marsha and you never observed any dissent or trouble between them.»

«Yes, but-«

«And you and others have stated, on record, that Boyd and Marsha were devoted to each other, enjoyed each other's company, had many mutual interests, many mutual friends.»

«Yes, but… That was before. Before anything happened.»

«Would you state now, Mrs. Stibbs, that Boyd loved his first wife, Marsha Stibbs?»

«Yes.» Her throat worked. «Yes.»

«And to your personal knowledge, through your personal observations, Marsha Stibbs was committed to Boyd, and to her marriage?»

«She spent a lot of time on her work. She rarely bothered to prepare meals for him. He he took care of the laundry more often than she did.»

«I see.» Peabody pursed her lips, nodded. «So you would say she neglected him, and their marriage.»

«I didn't say that… I didn't mean that.»

«Push,» Eve ordered from Observation. «Push now.»

«What did you mean, Mrs. Stibbs?»

«Just that she wasn't as perfect as everyone likes to think, to say. She could be very selfish.»

«Did Boyd ever complain to you about this neglect?»

«No. Boyd never complains. He's much too good-natured.»

«No one's that good-natured.» Peabody used a smile now, big and wide, girl to girl. «Surely if he'd known or suspected his wife was seeing someone else, he'd have complained.»

«No, no.» Eve rocked up on her toes. «Don't circle back, don't give her space to think.»

«What?» Alarmed, McNab grabbed Eve's arm. «What did she do wrong?»

«She should keep pressing on the victim, dig out the suspect's buried resentments, get her to voice them. And she needs to keep hitting her with the husband, so she can allude that maybe we're looking at him after all. The suspect's obsessed with Boyd Stibbs and the perfect world she's created around him. You've got to chip at the foundation of that, let her feel it crumbling. She's going off on the other man now, and that gives the suspect the chance to rebuild the fantasy, helps her believe there was another man.»

«Is she losing it?»

Eve dragged a hand through her hair. «She lost some ground.»

«Maybe you should go in.»

«No. She can get it back.»

They went well over McNab's fifteen minutes, but Eve didn't order him back to work. She watched Maureen's confidence rebuild and Peabody's falter. At one point, Peabody stared into the glass with such obvious panic, Eve had to imagine her own boots bolted to the floor so she couldn't stride in and take over.

«Got anything to write on?» Eve asked.

«You mean, like paper?» McNab asked. «I'm EDD. We don't use paper. That would just be wrong.»

«Give me your e-book.» She snatched it from him, coded in a few key phrases. «Go around and knock. Try to look like a cop for a change. Pass this to Trueheart, tell him to pass it to her, then you get out again. Got that?»

«You bet.» He scanned the miniscreen as he hurried out.

Shatter her fantasies

Implicate husband

Make her talk about victim by name

Obstacle angle was good, keep using it

Watch her hands. Plays with wedding ring when she's nervous

Dallas

It made McNab grin, so he had to take a minute to set his face into serious lines before he knocked.

«From Dallas,» he whispered, putting his mouth close to Trueheart's ear, and adding the little flourish of skimming a hard look over Maureen.

«I beg your pardon, Officer Peabody.» Trueheart stepped to the table. «This data just came in.»

He handed her the mini-unit, then stepped back to his post.

When Peabody read the note, she experienced a flood of relief, a geyser of new energy. Very carefully, she set the unit screen down on the table, folded her hands over it.

«What is that?» Maureen demanded. «What did he mean by data?»

«It's nothing to worry about,» Peabody said in a tone that indicated there was a great deal to worry about. «Can you tell me, Mrs. Stibbs, when you and Mr. Stibbs began to see each other as more than friends?»

«What difference does that make?» Maureen looked down fearfully at the e-book. «If you're trying to intimate that there was anything going on before Boyd was free-«

«I'm trying to get a timeline, a picture before and after Marsha's murder. Women know when a man's interested in them. Was Boyd interested in you?»

«Boyd would never, never have betrayed his vows. Marriage isn't a convenience to him.»

«The way it was with Marsha.»

«She didn't fully appreciate him, but he would never have blamed her for it.»

«But you did.»

«That's not what I said. I simply meant that she wasn't as devoted to the marriage as it looked from the outside.»

«And you, being a friend of both Boyd's and Marsha's were on the inside, and saw the flaws. Boyd was even deeper inside this relationship. The flaws must have been very apparent to him. Very distressing if he felt Marsha was careless about the marriage, about his happiness.»

«She wouldn't see he was unhappy.»

«But you did. You saw he was unhappy, consoled him when he talked to you about it.»

«No. No. I never… he never. He he's a very tolerant man. He never said a bad word about Marsha. Not ever. I have to get home.»

«Was he tolerant enough to overlook infidelity? To do laundry, fix his own meals while his wife sneaks around having sex with another man? I didn't know there were still saints in the world. Does it ever worry you, Mrs. Stibbs, that you may be married to a man who arranged for his first wife's death?»

«Are you crazy? Boyd would never he's incapable. You can't possibly believe he had anything to do with … with what happened. He wasn't even there.»

«An out-of-town business trip's a smart alibi.» Peabody eased back in her chair, nodded wisely. «Did you ever wonder if he'd suspected his wife was sleeping around? The letters were right there. The signs were all around him. He could have stewed about it for days, weeks, until he bubbled over. Until he paid someone to come in while he was gone, hit her over the head, and dump her body in the tub. Then he comes home and plays the grieving husband.»

«I won't have you say that. I won't sit here and listen to you say such things.» She pushed back from the table with enough force to knock over the water glass. «Boyd would never have hurt her. He'd never hurt anyone. He's a gentle man. A decent man.»

«A decent man is capable of a great deal when he finds out the woman he loves is screwing another man in his bed.»

«He wouldn't lay a hand on Marsha, or allow anyone else to.»

«A moment of rage when he found the letters.»

«How could he find them when they weren't there?»

She was wild-eyed and panting. Peabody felt a cool control settle over her.

«No, the letters weren't there, because you wrote them and you put them in her drawer after you killed her. You killed Marsha Stibbs because she was your obstacle to Boyd a man you wanted and she didn't prize him enough to suit you. You wanted Marsha's husband and her life and her marriage, so you took them.»

«No.» Maureen pressed her hands to her cheeks, shook her head. «No. No.»

«She didn't deserve him.» Peabody had the hammer now and used it to coldly shatter Maureen with fast, hard strokes. «But you did. He needed you, someone like you to tend to him the way she wouldn't. She didn't love him, not the way you did.»

«She didn't need him. She didn't need anyone.»

«Did you confront her when Boyd was out of town? Did you tell her she wasn't good enough for him? He deserved better, didn't he? He deserved you.»

«No. I don't want to be here anymore. I need to go home.»

«Did she argue with you, or did she just laugh? Didn't take you seriously, and neither would Boyd until she was out of the picture. He wouldn't see you until she was out of the way. You had to kill her so you could really live. Isn't that right, Maureen?»

«It wasn't like that.» Fat, fast tears poured down her cheeks. She held out both hands, clasped together as if in prayer. «You have to believe me.»

«Tell me what it was like. Tell me what happened the night you went into Marsha's apartment.»

«I didn't mean it. I didn't mean it.» Sobbing now, she collapsed in the chair, laid her head on the table and covered it with her arms. «It was an accident. I didn't mean it. I've done everything right since. I've done everything to make it up to him. I love him. I've always loved him.»

In observation, McNab grinned like a madman. «She did it! She broke her down. Closed a cold case. I gotta… jeez, I gotta go get her flowers or something.» He started to dash out, turned. «Dallas, she did good.»

«Yeah.» Eve continued to look through the glass, look into the pity she saw stir in Peabody's eyes. «She did good.»

By the time she sent Maureen Stibbs down to Booking, Peabody was drained. She felt as if her insides had been put through some huge mechanical wringer that squeezed all the juices out.

When she headed back toward the bullpen, her parents rose from a bench and walked to her.

«What are you guys doing here? We're not supposed to meet up until we have that fancy dinner we had to postpone last night.»

«We're so proud of you.» Her mother cupped her face, laid a soft, warm kiss on her forehead. «Very proud of you.»

«Okay … why?»

«Eve called us in.» She bent down, brushed her cheek over Peabody's. «She arranged for us to watch you work.»

«My interview?» Peabody's mouth fell open. «You saw?»

«It was very difficult, what you did.» Phoebe drew her close.

«It's the job.»

«A very difficult job. And one you were meant to do.» She eased her daughter back to study her face. «When we leave tomorrow, it'll be easier to say good-bye knowing that.»

«Tomorrow, but-«

«It's time. We'll talk more tonight. You have work now.»

Sam reached down, gave his daughter's hand a squeeze. «Officer Peabody.» He grinned from ear to ear. «Go be a cop.»

A little misty-eyed she watched them walk toward the down-glide. Then the sentiment dried up in amused shock as McNab bounded off the up-glide carrying an armload of white and yellow daisies.

«Where'd you get those?»

«Don't ask.» He handed them to her, then broke their mutual agreement by hauling her in for a hard kiss in a public area. «She-Body, you rocked.»

«I nearly blew it.»

«Hey. You kicked ass, you did the job, you closed the case. End of story.» He was so proud he could have burst the pink buttons on his purple shirt. «And you looked really sexy doing it. I was thinking we could play Interview later tonight.» He winked at her.

«You were observing?»

«You think I'd miss it? It was a big fucking deal for you, so it was bfd for me, too.»

She sighed, gave in, and buried her nose in flowers that were no doubt stolen. «Sometimes, McNab, you're really sweet.»

«So, I'll give you a good taste of me later. Got to roll. I'm behind.»

Carrying the flowers, she walked into the bullpen, and was flustered, delighted, embarrassed when several detectives called out congratulations. Flushing, she went into Eve's office. «Lieutenant?»

Eve held up a hand to hold her off and continued to study the results of the probability scan on spa centers. She and the computer agreed that Europe was the most likely destination given Julianna's profile, with Paris just nipping out the rest of the field.

«I don't know, I don't know. Major city, major media, major cops. Why not this place, what's it, Provence, or this other near the Swiss border in Italy?»

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«If I'd wanted a PR quote, I'd've asked for one. How do you book?»

RESERVATIONS FOR DAY PACKAGES AND/OR HOTEL SERVICES MUST BE MADE DIRECTLY WITH THE FACILITY BY GUEST, GUEST REPRESENTATIVE, OR AUTHORIZED TRAVEL AGENCY. IT IS RECOMMENDED THAT REQUESTS FOR RESERVATIONS BE MADE AT LEAST SIX WEEKS IN ADVANCE.

«Six weeks.» Eve pondered, drummed her fingers.

«Are you going to Paris to a spa, Lieutenant?»

«Sure, if someone knocks me unconscious, puts me in shackles, and drags my lifeless body in. But I'm thinking this might be right up Julianna's alley. A girl needs a break from killing to relax, be pampered, and make sure her skin retains that youthful, dewy look.»

She glanced up, gestured at the flowers. «So. McNab came through. Where'd he steal them?»

«I don't know.» Peabody sniffed them sentimentally. «Anyway, it's the thought that counts. You let my parents come in and observe. You don't like having civilians observe an interview.»

«I made an exception.»

«They said they were proud of me.»

«You're a good cop. Why shouldn't they be proud of you?»

«It just means a lot to hear them say it. I want to thank you for sending that note in, snapping me back on track. I'd gone way off. I knew I was losing her and couldn't figure where I'd gone off.»

«You picked it back up, and you got it done. How do you feel about it?»

«Good, I guess. I feel good about it.» But she lowered her arms, drooping the flowers toward the floor. «Jesus, Dallas, I feel sorry for her. Her whole world's broken into little pieces. It was an accident. She's being straight about that. She worked herself up to confront Marsha, told her how she felt about Boyd. They argued, it got physical, and Marsha went down hard, hit her head. Hit it wrong. Then Maureen panics and tries to cover up.»

«And they'll plead it down to Manslaughter. Manslaughter when it should be Murder Two.»

«Lieutenant.»

«Maybe she panicked, for a minute or two, she panicked and was sorry and shocked. But then what did she do? Does she call for help? On the slim chance Marsha Stibbs could be revived or saved, does she call for help? No, she seized an opportunity. She not only covers up the crime, but she goes just a few steps further. She plants false evidence that paints a dead woman with adultery, leaves that dead woman's husband, a man she herself claims to love, with the pain and doubt and misery of wondering if his wife could have lied to him, cheated on him, betrayed him. She casts a cloud over the life she stole so that everyone who knew Marsha Stibbs would look through that cloud and see a woman who was a cheat, so she can bide her time, pave the road, and eventually step into her place.»

Eve shook her head. «Don't waste your pity on her. If you've got pity, give it to Marsha Stibbs, who had her life taken for no reason other than she had what someone else wanted.»

«Yes, sir, I know you're right. I guess it just has to settle in.»

«Peabody. You stood for Marsha Stibbs in that interview. You did a good job for her.»

Peabody's face cleared, and so did her lingering doubts. «Thank you, Lieutenant.»

«Go home, snazz yourself up for this fancy deal you've got going tonight.»

«It's not end of shift.»

«I'm springing you an hour early and you want to argue about it?»

«No, sir!» Peabody pulled a yellow daisy out of her bunch, offered it.

«You passing on stolen property, Officer?» Amused, Eve twirled it, then turned to her beeping interoffice 'link. «Hold on. Dallas.»

«Lieutenant.» Whitney's face filled the screen. «I want you and your team in my office. Fifteen minutes.»

«Yes, sir. Sorry, Peabody.» Eve pushed to her feet. «Want your flower back?»

Fifteen minutes didn't give Eve enough time to finish compiling and analyzing all the data to support her hunch on Julianna's personal holiday. Instead she worked out an oral pitch in her head to pursue that hunch on the way to Whitney's office.

The pitch stalled when she walked in and saw Roarke.

He sat in one of the chairs facing the commander's desk, apparently very much at home. Their gazes met, locked, and she knew instantly that whatever was going on she wasn't going to like it.

«Lieutenant.» Whitney gave a quick come-ahead signal. «Officer Peabody, I'm told you closed a homicide case this afternoon, with a full confession in Interview.»

«Yes, sir. The Marsha Stibbs matter.»

«Good job.»

«Thank you, Commander. Actually, Lieutenant Dallas-«

«Had complete confidence in Officer Peabody's ability to investigate and close this case,» Eve interrupted. «That confidence was justified. Officer Peabody pursued this investigation primarily on her own time while continuing to serve as my aide and as part of the investigative team formed in the Julianna Dunne homicides. A commendation regarding this matter has been added to Officer Peabody's file.»

«Well done,» Whitney said while Peabody stood speechless. «Come,» he called out at the knock on his door. «Captain, Detective.» He nodded at Feeney and McNab.

«Nice work.» Feeney gave Peabody a wink and a little arm punch as he joined them. «Roarke.» He dipped his hands in his pockets, gave his bag of nuts a little rattle. Something was up, he thought, and it was bound to be interesting.

«Julianna Dunne.» Whitney began with the name, pausing on it as he scanned the faces of his officers. «She has committed three homicides in this city. A fourth in another though Denver Police and Security is … reluctant to confirm that at this time.» His lips curved, a sharp, knowing smile as he looked at Eve. «She is also responsible for seriously injuring an officer.»

«Commander-«

He cut off Eve's protest with one narrowed stare. «It's fortunate you recover quickly, Lieutenant. However, these are the facts, facts that the media are actively broadcasting. Facts that this department must respond to. Two of the victims were prominent men, with prominent connections. The families of Walter Pettibone and Henry Mouton have contacted this office, and the office of Chief of Police Tibble, demanding justice. Demanding answers.»

«They'll get justice, Commander. My team is actively, doggedly, pursuing all leads. An updated progress report will be in your hands by end of shift.»

«Lieutenant.» Whitney eased back in his chair. «Your investigation is stalled.»

«The investigation is multipronged.» Eve swallowed the outrage that burned into her throat. «And with respect, Commander, is not stalled but rather complex and layered. Justice isn't always served swiftly.»

«She'd been kept where she belonged, there wouldn't be an investigation.» Feeney's anger snapped out. «We put her away once, and now because a bunch of morons and bleeding hearts open the cage door, we've got to put her away again. That's a damn fact. It was Dallas who pinned her then, and maybe the media, this office, and the office of the damn chief should remember that.»

When Eve put a hand on his arm, he shook her off. «Don't tell me to calm down,» he shot out, though she hadn't said a word.

«I'm fully aware of the history in this matter.» Whitney's voice stayed level. «And so is Chief Tibble. And the media, I can promise you, will be reminded of it. But it's today we have to deal with. Julianna Dunne remains at large, and that's a very big problem. She taunted you,» he said to Eve. «And the opinion is she'll continue to do so. Would you agree, Lieutenant, that Dunne selected New York as her primary location as payback? That her work here is a personal attack on you?»

«I would agree, Commander, that the subject harbors a grudge, and while her work is satisfying in and of itself to her, by killing here she gains the added benefit of involving me in combat.»

«She has no particular interest in or connection to the men she's killed. Which makes your investigation more problematic.»

«It's unlikely we'll track and apprehend her by identifying her next target or targets.» She felt a little warning beat at the base of her skull. «The investigation is better served by concentrating on the subject's pattern— personal pattern. How she lives, works, plays. She isn't a woman to deny herself the comforts and luxuries she's always believed she deserves and which were denied to her for nearly nine years in prison. I'm currently compiling and analyzing data in that area to support what I believe is a valid theory.»

«I'd be interested in reviewing that data and hearing that theory, but in the meantime, let's just backtrack a minute.» He steepled his hands, tapped the index fingers together. «The computer probabilities oppose the view held by Dr. Mira and the primary as to the identity of one of the potential targets. Who after reviewing all data and reports I believe is and has been the central target all along. This individual's willingness to cooperate could very well result in Dunne's early apprehension and a closure to this case.»

The beat became a pounding. «Utilizing civilians-«

«Is often expedient,» Whitney finished. «Particularly when the civilian is known to be … skilled in pertinent areas.»

«Permission to speak with you privately, sir.»

«Denied.»

«Commander.» Roarke spoke for the first time, in a soft tone, a direct contrast to the rising tension in the room. «If I may? She'll come at me sooner or later, Eve. We arrange to make it sooner, it gives us the advantage and may save another life.»

«I object to using a civilian as bait.» She looked directly at Whitney. «Whoever, whatever he might be. As primary of this investigation, I have the right to refuse employing tactics I feel generate unacceptable risk to my men, or to civilians.»

«And as your commander, I have the right to overrule your refusal, to order you to employ those tactics or remove you as primary.»

This time it was Feeney who grabbed Eve's arm. But Roarke was already getting to his feet. «Jack.» His voice wasn't quite as soft now when he addressed Whitney. Deliberately, he stepped between him and Eve, turned so she had no choice but to look him in the face.

«You'll have control. She's had the upper hand till this. You'll draw her in where and how you choose. That's the first point. The second being I won't sit back and wait until she picks the time and place to have at me. I'm asking you for help, and offering you mine.»

It was easy to see why he was so good at what he did. At winning whatever he wanted. Bending wills to his own with reason at first anyway. Then by whatever method worked best.

But she wasn't a company to be absorbed, or a suit to be intimidated. «You're not asking or offering anything. And you're not giving me control, you're taking it.»

«That would depend on how you look at it.»

«I see just fine. Step back, Roarke, you're not in charge here yet.»

Something flashed in his eyes, something deadly. It only served to add punch to a temper that was already fuming to peak. When she moved toward Roarke, Feeney grabbed her arm a second time, and Whitney came to his feet.

«Ease down, kid,» Feeney muttered.

«Lieutenant Dallas.» Whitney's voice cracked like a whip. «This office is not the place for your marital disagreements.»

«You made it the place. This is an ambush, and one that circumvents my authority, that puts that authority on the block in front of my team.»

Whitney opened his mouth, then closed it again in a tight line. «Point taken. Your team is dismissed.»

«I'd prefer they remain at this point, sir. Completing this meeting privately now is a useless gesture.»

«You're a hardass, Lieutenant, and you're skirting very close to the line.»

«Yes, sir, I am. But you already crossed over it. I respect both your authority and your office, Commander.»

He had to take a calming breath. «And you imply I show none for yours.»

«That would depend …» She glared at Roarke. «On how you look at it.»

«And if you were looking at this situation objectively rather than through what is arguably justified anger at the way this particular avenue was presented to you?»

«I strongly believe Julianna Dunne may be out of the country, or that she has plans to leave New York for a short period of time. If I'm allowed to pursue that avenue, I believe I can confirm her location, or planned destination in a few hours.»

«And this belief is based on?»

«My instincts and my considerable understanding of the subject.» Pitch it now, Eve ordered herself, and pitch it hard.

«She's a girl. She has a deep-seated need to indulge her femininity, in the most luxurious and exclusive manner available. She's been hard at work for some time now, planning and executing her agenda. She'll want a break. In the past, she took a short vacation between every hit. Resorts primarily, with top-flight treatment centers. It's pattern. She's moved on her victims in rapid succession this time out, and this after being incarcerated for a number of years. She'll need to renew herself, recharge, and her most likely method would be a spa facility where she can be pampered and can relax before she…»

She trailed off, then dug back in. «… before she moves on what I believe is and has been the central target. She'll want to groom, prepare, relax, before she comes at him. I've run a probability on this theory and got just over ninety percent. She doesn't change, Commander. At the core, she doesn't change.»

«Assuming your theory is correct, there are countless facilities of this nature numerous in this city alone.»

«It wouldn't be here. She'd want to get away, that's indulgence, and she wouldn't risk having a consultant who might have seen her on the media, get up close and personal with her face. That's brains. It's most likely she'd go out of the country where the media attention on murders in New York City isn't as intense.»

She watched his expression, saw him consider that. Agree with that. «I've already narrowed down the field, and intend to start checking with the most likely locations and working my way down the list.»

«Then do so. However, that angle doesn't preclude preparing for another option. If you tag her, are successful in tracking and apprehension, then this is put to rest. If you don't, we'll have a trap in place. Settle yourself down, Lieutenant. And listen.»

Whitney turned to Roarke, and nodded.