“Sir. There’s no question of that.”
“Good. Moving on. We now have a second victim. You believe they’re connected.”
“By method, yes. In the killer’s mind, yes. And there is a strong probability there’s a connection to a support group for women who have been abused, raped, cheated on. Some of the women McEnroy raped and the ex-wife of Thaddeus Pettigrew, the second victim, all attended this support group.”
Interest flickered, for an instant, in Tibble’s eyes. “I take it McEnroy’s widow didn’t attend this group.”
“There’s no evidence at this time to indicate that, no, sir.”
Tibble took pity on her, gestured for her to stand. “Go ahead, since we’re here, fill us in.”
Eve rose. “We spoke with the woman who founded the group. We have no reason to believe she’s involved. She requested a warrant for the names in her notes. They use first names only, but we have McEnroy’s book, and may find some that cross.”
Pleased to be on her feet, and to talk it through, she continued. “The second victim routinely hired, we believe without the knowledge or consent of the woman he lived with, LCs from a company called Discretion. The person in charge there confirmed Pettigrew has been a regular for several years—which would include his time with his ex-wife, and through his relationship with a Marcella Horowitz. Ms. Horowitz was out of town with three other females at the time of Pettigrew’s murder. Both Peabody and I believe her shock and upset at being informed and interviewed regarding his murder—and his predilection for LCs—was genuine.”
“She’s young, Chief, Commander,” Peabody added. “And while, like Ms. McEnroy, she doesn’t want to believe she was betrayed, we conclude she’ll come around to it.”
“In addition, these murders took a cool head to plan. Both victims had their e’s hacked. There’s nothing in the widow’s or in Horowitz’s data that indicates they’d have the knowledge or skill, which both the civilian consultant and EDD confirm this sort of hacking entails.”
“And the poem left with the bodies?” Whitney spoke for the first time.
“A nice flourish” was Eve’s opinion. “And personal. A justification for the killings, and the torture. Pettigrew’s ex-wife, Darla Pettigrew, started a company several years ago that manufactured and programmed droids. She may have the knowledge and skill.”
“If you don’t look at exes,” Tibble began.
“You’re still an idiot,” Whitney finished. “You’ve spoken to her?”
“Yes, sir. Ah, I need to disclose, as the civilian consultant accompanied me this morning to Pettigrew’s body, both he and McNab accessed the electronics. When doing so, Roarke discovered the company, Data Point, one sold during the divorce, had been acquired by Roarke Industries.”
“He knew the victim?” Tibble demanded.
“No, sir,” she replied. “In fact, the transaction was done through lawyers and reps. It was, to Roarke’s estimation, a small acquisition. However, Pettigrew had managed to acquire the controlling interest in the company, without his wife’s full knowledge, and he forced the sale, took the lion’s share.”
“Which was?”
She knew she was going to hate this part. “Just over fifteen million.”
“And the ex-wife’s take?”
“Just over seven.”
“So, an acquisition costing more than twenty-two million is … small?”
It mortified, but Eve continued to speak briskly. “Apparently it is in Roarke’s world, yes, sir. I feel it was major in Darla Pettigrew’s. Her company, and he not only cheated on her, left the marriage, he forced her to sell, and took the bulk.”
“A fine motive,” Whitney concluded. “Opportunity?”
“She lives with her grandmother, who’s recovering from an illness. Both claim she was there, though they both admit the grandmother fell asleep. However, Ms. Callahan claims to remember Ms. Pettigrew coming in to check on her during the night.”
“Eloise Callahan.” Peabody couldn’t help herself.
Tibble actually blinked. “Eloise Callahan? The actor? She’s a legend.”
“I know, right? Sorry. Sorry, Chief, I know it isn’t relevant.”
“It may be,” Eve corrected, “as she’s a legend for her acting. She came off very genuine, as did her granddaughter, but it’s possible the granddaughter inherited some of that acting skill.”
Again, a flicker of interest as Tibble angled his head. “You’re looking at her.”