Secrets in Death (In Death 45)

“I absolutely agree. That wasn’t random. Nothing here was random.”

“No. I’ve got to get on this. I appreciate the time.”

“If you find more, send it to me. I’ll try to add some meat to the profile.”

“I will. Thanks.” She starte

d for the door, stopped. “You and Mr. Mira weren’t in her books.”

“Why would we be?”

“Besides being connected to me, Nadine, Mavis, you’re at the top of your profession—a kind of celebrity—you’re socially active and well connected, financially solid.”

“I doubt my profession held much interest for her.”

“I disagree, majorly, there. You know secrets, and she was dedicated and devoted to uncovering secrets. You know a lot of mine.”

“Eve. I’d never betray your confidence.”

“I know that. I never doubt that. She didn’t know that, but you weren’t in her books. Here’s why. She looked at you, and at Mr. Mira, and she saw the unassailable. You weren’t worth the time or trouble. That’s not just why you’re at the top of your profession. It’s why you, both of you, are who and what you are.”

Touched, deeply, Mira rose. “I want you to know, if she had—as you put it—tried to put the arm on me or Dennis, we would have come to you. Without hesitation.”

“I know that, too. So, good. Thanks again.”

When Eve left, Mira sat back down, smiled to herself. Trust built slowly for some, but once constructed, became strong as steel.

Eve went straight back to Homicide, turned to her office in time to see Santiago stroll out of it.

“What were you doing in there?”

He stopped short at her tone. “Ah, giving Peabody a hand. Evidence boxes. On your desk.”

Her eyes stayed narrowed. “Yeah?”

“Well, yeah. A couple of them, and they had some weight.”

“You’ve got nothing else to do?”

“We just closed one. Carmichael’s writing it up.”

Since they stood there, and she continued to give him the hard eye, Santiago ran it down.

“Guy breaks into a loft in SoHo. Female occupant is home sick instead of at work as she normally would’ve been at that time of day. She wakes up while the thief’s banging around unhooking electronics, comes out of the bedroom upstairs thinking it’s her cohab. She’s half naked, just wearing this big T-shirt. Thief’s coming up, goes for her, knocks her around a little, as she’s medicated. But she bounces back and beats the crap out of him.”

A hint of admiration glinted in his eyes. “Turns out she’s a boxer—competitor and an instructor at a local gym. She gives him a solid roundhouse, and he takes a header down the stairs, breaks his neck. She calls it in.”

“How fast?” Eve asked, mostly for form.

“Nine-one-one came in under two minutes after TOD. Uniforms respond, secure the scene. Her statement holds up, boss, and it reads self-defense. The DB has a sheet a mile wide. B and E—he goes for female households—assaults, again he goes for women. The locks and security were compromised, he’d piled up all the easily portable electronics and valuables on the first floor. Had an empty sack with him going up, and dropped it when he charged her. Looks like he tripped over it when she fought back.

“She took some solid hits in the first round,” he added, with that admiration glinting again, “but she came back at him. She says he turned to run away, got his feet tangled in the sack, and took the dive down. That’s how it reads.”

Eve folded her arms. “KO’d the DB.”

“You got it.”

“Okay. What about the kid? The rape and stabbing.”