Born in Death (In Death 23)

“There are a number of questions regarding those accounts. Me, I’m a murder cop. What do I know? I’m sure the proper agencies will find the answers.”

“If there are any questions regarding the foundation accounts, they’ll be answered by Sloan, Myers, and Kraus. Robert Kraus…” Madeline paused, laid her free hand on her breast again. “But, no, you said it was Randall who, in actuality, kept the accounts for us. That alone is an outrageous breach of trust. Has he embezzled? Dear God, we trusted them, trusted him.”

She leaned into Chase, and his arm draped around her shoulders. “Was he using us?” Madeline demanded. “Is that why he killed himself?”

“That would be tidy, wouldn’t it? Thanks for your time.”

And that, Eve thought, would give them plenty to think about.

She was grinning darkly when she slid into the car.

“I don’t believe we’ll be invited to the spring gala in Madrid,” Roarke commented.

“Breaks my heart. You get a load of them? They’re like one of those Brit drawing room vids you like—the old-time ones? She thinks on her feet, I’ll give her that. She never figured we’d come knocking on the door, but she was ready for us when we did. He, on the other hand, needs direction, and a short leash. Got a temper, he does.”

“He killed them.”

“Bet your righteous ass he did. Question me, will you? Threaten me? Oh yeah, he did them all, then he came home and told Mommy all about it. Bet they’re pissed off to realize three murders haven’t covered up the accounts after all.”

“They’ll push it onto Randall Sloan.”

“They’ll try. I’ll let the Feds and Global worry about that end. Murder in the First, three counts. Conspiracy to commit, accessory before and after. I’m going to roll them up in a ball on this.”

“I might ask how?”

“He left his DNA on Byson’s fist. So science is going to get him. And my canny investigative skills are putting together enough to get a warrant to compel him to give us a sample of that DNA. Peabody and McNab get lucky, Sloan will have something incriminating on them at his place. I get that one, Win, into Interview, I’ll piss it out of him. Without his mother holding him back, he’ll come at me, and he’ll spew. I can see it in him.”

“They could take off for England, for anywhere, tonight.”

“Could. Won’t. Flight makes them look suspicious. She’s got too much control for that. What they have to play is shocked and outraged. Their pal, their handily dead pal, deceived and abused them. He used their lauded foundation for his own gain. Shame and horror! She’s working that out right now, and she’s calling Cavendish—or one of the contacts on that in England—to give him the lowdown, have them start injunctions, restraining orders, anything they can pull out of the hat.

“Gotta get Cavendish in the box, too. I’ll sweat it out of him inside thirty minutes. He hasn’t got the spine. He’ll flip on them. He knows about the murders, and he’ll flip for a deal that keeps him out of a cage on accessory.”

Roarke stopped at a light, studied her. “Pretty damn wound up, aren’t you, Lieutenant?”

“Yeah, I am. It’s falling for me, piece by piece. I’m going to get started on that warrant on Chase, and one for Cavendish.” She dug out her ’link. “I can have them both in the box by morning.”

She interrupted both an APA and her commander’s Sunday night, put them on conference on the dash ’link and was still running the case through when Roarke drove through the gates.

“I need the mandatory DNA sample on Chase,” Eve argued.

Dressed in something slinky, APA Cher Reo scowled on-screen. “Allegedly questionable accounting practices, allegedly overseen by a man who was not the accountant of record, and who has left a suicide note confessing to the murders before hanging himself.”

“The ME isn’t going to rule self-termination.”

“You can’t be sure.”

“I fucking am sure.” Eve winced. “Excuse me, Commander.”

Whitney only sighed. “If the lieutenant ‘fucking’ is sure, Reo, we should push for this. If Chase is clean, the worst that happens is he’s insulted and complains to his embassy, has his lawyers screw with us.”

“I’ll find a judge who agrees with you,” Reo said. “The same’s going to go on Cavendish. It’s shaky, Dallas.”

“I’ll make it solid. I want them both

in by eight-hundred tomorrow. Thank you, Commander. I’m sorry to interrupt your evening.”

“How about me?” Reo demanded.