Brotherhood in Death (In Death 42)

“Knock it back, Peabody. We’ve got to get back to work.”

It took a little time—Peabody wanted to savor—but even with the extra, Eve felt lighter when Gillian walked them back, got their coats.

“I’m going to apologize for wanting to smack you even though I could see it was hard for you to push at him that way.”

“I want to smack people all the time. And he’s your father.”

“I love my husband, and one of the many reasons is he’d agree with me when I say my father is the best man I know. You’re a little bit in love with him.”

“Probably more than a little.”

“And you’re going to look out for him.”

“That’s a promise.”

“All right then. Bright blessings on both of you, and safe travels wherever the path takes you.”

As they hiked back to the car, Eve shoved her hands in her pockets, found her gloves again. Tugged them on. “Plot us a sensible route to hit the sidepieces.”

“Already done, and you can cross off Allyson Byson, for now anyway. She’s been in St. Lucia for the past week with her husband and several friends. It’s an annual thing. Spends six weeks there every winter.”

“Very tidy alibi. We’ll look into her otherwise.”

“We should start with Carlee MacKensie—he played with her right before he hooked up with Downing. Freelance writer.”

When they got into the car, Peabody plugged the address into the in-dash. “Then we’d go to Asha Coppola, to Lauren Canford, and finish with Charity Downing, the latest.”

“I want a conversation with the vic’s children before the end of the day.” Eve considered tactics while she negotiated traffic. “We keep it simple, get the how and when they met, how long the relationship went on, who ended it, that kind of thing. Right now, we’re just fishing.”

“How did he keep them straight?” Peabody wondered. “We’ve got five, and that’s only covering around a year. So there’s a lot more going back. How did he keep them all straight?”

“They were all the same to him, that’s my take. Just a score. He was a predator. Spot the prey, stalk it, bag it, play with it awhile. Then, when you’re bored or the prey no longer satisfies, discard it and go after fresh meat.”

She noted a second-level street spot, zipped over and grabbed it.

“We could maybe have gotten closer.”

“We could maybe not have.”

“Loose pants, loose pants,” Peabody chanted to herself as they clanged down the iron steps to the street.

“They’ll be a lot looser when I kick your ass up, down, and sideways.”

“I’m using the power of positive thinking. But to spare my ass the pain, what are you guys getting Bella for her birthday?”

“I don’t know.” Instant panic gripped her. “How the hell do I know what to get for a one-year-old kid? How does anybody? The kid can’t tell you, and nobody remembers being a one-year-old so it’s just a crapshoot.”

“The party’s in a couple weeks.”

“Shut up, Peabody.”

“Okay, but shutting up means I can’t tell you what I know she’d really go for—and McNab and I can’t really spring for a good one.”

“What?”

Peabody clamped her lips smugly.

“I swear, I’ll drop-kick you from this spot three blocks east so you splat in the middle of Fifth Avenue.”