Brotherhood in Death (In Death 42)

“Cube it, thanks,” Peabody told him when he circled a finger at her.

“Covered.” He bopped out.

“My head hurts.”

Callendar offered Eve an easy shrug and smile. “He can go deep into e-jive, but he’s got the juju. He said how this Betz has money, and plenty, but he loses at the track pretty regularly. He bets the horses, and doesn’t win. He has two properties on official records—the one here in New York, and another in Cuba.”

“I want that data. We’ll have Cuba checked out.”

“You’ll get it. He also said this Betz is a—What’s it?—ladies’ man or whatever. Has a lot of women for being a guy his age. And he keeps a record of them handy, so he can have their names and, when he needs to, like shuffle or rotate them.”

“Christ. I want all that data.”

“We’ll make that so. Dude has three vehicles, and a whole buncha speeding violations.”

“Those, too. Let’s see if we can find out where he wants to get in such a hurry. It’s a good start.”

“Juju’s start,” Callendar said. “I’ve got the econ dude’s e’s. What shows on them is he doesn’t—didn’t—gamble, not that shows on his e’s. Unlike Betz—Juju was saying he took a lot in, financially, from the family businesses, and didn’t do much work—econ dude clocked in. He put in time, worked the job. Plenty of fun time for him. Vacays, trips. Got a lot of photos on his comps, and I’m IDing family. Got a grandson he’s bookmarked theater articles and reviews on, and there’s mail between them, friends, family. Some work. He didn’t keep a list of ‘dates,’ but he has a bunch of names and contacts of the female variety. Multiple properties—some straight investment, but also a flat in London and a place in East Hampton.”

“Okay, if they got their hands on keys, they could be using the place in East Hampton, or one of the other vics’ second houses. But . . .”

Too easy, Eve thought. Just too straight.

“They’d have their own. Couldn’t set all this up on the fly. We’ll have the secondary residences, even the income properties checked out. We need to eliminate.”

She checked the time. The day was streaming

by, and Betz’s time was dwindling. “Send me everything, and whatever else you hit. I’m going to check with Yancy on a possible, then I’m in my office for now. I need to think.”

She went out as Juju bopped back with a tray of jumbo fizzies. He sent that mega-happy grin toward Peabody. “Check,” he said, and pulled one out of the tray.

“Thanks.”

When she started to dig out credits, he swiped a finger in the air. “Treat.”

They tapped knuckles before he bopped on.

“He’s good,” Peabody said before she slurped some fizzy. “I’ve hung with him a few times.”

“If Feeney put him on it, that’s good enough for me. Go on down, start digging on Downing. Deep.”

“Give Yancy a yo for me.”

They parted ways.

Eve made her way to Yancy’s division, found him at his desk, frowning at his screen. He glanced up, gave her a distracted look. “Hey.”

“Hey. And a yo from Peabody. Have you been able to connect with Laurel Esty?”

“You just missed her, and her friend Reb. Connect. Yeah, you could say that. I’ve got a date after shift.”

“With Esty?”

“It just happened.” He gave a puzzled laugh to go with the distracted look. “She said how maybe I’d take her out for a drink, and I guess I said sure. Then she said, ‘Mag, how about seven?’ So.”

Eve lifted her eyebrows. Peabody’s description—the hand fanning over the heart—hit the mark. The police artist had a lot of messy dark curls around a face that slipped along an interesting line between pretty and sexy.

“So,” Eve repeated. “I take it she wasn’t nervous about coming in.”