“In Whitt’s place, with his mind-set? It’s just what I’d do. Tag EDD,” she said as they walked into the bullpen. “I want to write this up before Rodriges gets here.”
Eve went straight into her office, straight for coffee. After updating her board, her book, she wrote her report, added a list of questions for Mira.
Since she expected Rodriges shortly, she’d dig into finances later. For now, she put her boots on the desk, angled toward the board to study and think.
Whitt’s father’s photo on the wall of Grange’s office. The timing of the divorce. Maybe try to talk to the wife, see if they could convince her to confirm the affair.
Because there’d been one. Maybe still was.
If Whitt knew Grange had been at least partially responsible for his parents’ divorce, why not strike at her? Didn’t care, she mused. It didn’t really impact his life.
What had—because she believed him there—was the transfer of schools and cities. He’d lost his base, his standing, his easy road, and had instead been demoted to the new kid.
Still, Grange might have covered for him, at least partially. Another reason not to strike out. But he’d had the brains as well as the money to make a top-ranked school, and do well.
So possibly he had focused on his studies. Success could be a form of revenge.
He’d hooked back up with Cosner, and probably had never completely lost touch. But the girl? He’d definitely lost the girl.
No contact, not even after they’d both graduated.
Her eyes narrowed on his ID shot. “How did you know her parents had taken her ’link, locked down her comms? Maybe somebody else from your circle of assholes told you. Maybe. But then she cut you off, too. Chose to follow the line instead of hook back with you. Hmm.”
Setting the coffee aside, she rose, paced to her skinny window. “You’re not going to contact that bitch after she dumped you like that. Screw her. She didn’t mean that much to you anyway. Just an easy lay, right? Sure, sure. Plenty of easy lays out there for a good-looking rich boy.”
She paced away, paced back. “Smart girls, too. Girls with more brains than tits who’d be grateful for the attention. Who’d help with college papers.”
She went back to her desk, checked the date of Hayward’s engagement announcement.
“Yeah, yeah, you’d read about it. First loves are potent—that’s what you said, and that was pure truth for you, especially when you add first loves who kick you to the curb.
“Then what does she do? What does she do?” Eve asked herself as she picked up her coffee again. “She goes and hooks another rich guy. An important rich guy from an important family. Fuck me, her future mother-in-law might just be president. That’s a kick in the balls. She gets to flaunt it around the White House? And who’s responsible, who ruined your life so you’re a junior exec at daddy’s firm and the girl who belonged to you gets to marry into political royalty?
“Rufty, Duran, and the rest of the sons of bitches who screwed up a good thing.”
She walked to the ID shot. “That’s the trigger. That’s the goddamn trigger. I’d bet my ass on it.”
She turned, intending to contact Mira’s of
fice and push her way into a quick consult. As she did, her machine signaled an incoming, and Peabody’s clomp came down the hall.
She glanced at the incoming, gave a quick grunt. She’d been expecting it.
“Dallas,” Peabody said from the doorway. “Rodriges is here.”
“Set him up in the lounge. I’ll be right there.”
She waited until Peabody clomped away before answering the commander’s office.
Detective Peabody and I are about to interview an individual regarding the current investigation. We will report to Commander Whitney’s office immediately after the interview.
Grange, Eve thought as she headed out. She hadn’t expected the headmaster to let Peabody’s insults go. So they’d deal with it.
In the lounge, Rodriges sat at a table, one battered sneaker tapping nervously. He was a skinny little guy with his black hair tied back in a short, curly tail. A pair of soulful dark eyes looked out of a youthful face as Peabody brought him a fizzy.
He wore a T-shirt displaying the formula for pi, with the caption:
THERE’S ALWAYS AN EXTRA SLICE OF PI!