Connections in Death (In Death 48)

“I think you made the right decision,” Peabody told him. “Give them this time, then you’ll be there.”

“We just left Rochelle and her brother Walter at the apartment. She was packing up some things.”

He nodded at Eve. “She let me know she was gonna meet you, and we’d already talked about her staying with me. Not so much room over at Martin’s place. I ain’t going to let her go back to that apartment. That’s a talk we’ll have when she’s settled some more.”

“There were some things missing.”

“They stole from her, too.” His eyes, already hard, turned to stone. “What did they take?”

“They emptied out Lyle’s coin jar, took his good shoes, his earbuds. I’m going to confirm the buds, make sure he didn’t leave them at work.”

“He wouldn’t’ve. No way. It wasn’t just because they were prime ones, but he got them from Martin. Martin was kinda a holdout on Lyle. He held back the longest, and the buds? Well, it was saying how he trusted Lyle again, had his back again. He’d never have left them somewhere.”

“Rochelle had a red purse in her closet. It’s gone.”

“That little red job?” Obviously puzzled, he held his big hands out to indicate size. “It have money in it?”

“No. Just the purse.”

“That don’t make a spit worth of sense.”

“It might. They took her mother’s pin—brooch—from a box in her dresser, and a bangle bracelet.”

“That makes more sense. They ain’t worth anything, but if you’re a fuckhead you could think they’re worth something. That pin was sentiment. I hope you can get it back.”

“They took the earrings you gave her for Valentine’s Day.”

“Well, shit.” He punched the menu, ordered a brew. “Want a drink?”

“No, we’re good. The other jewelry was costume, no real value. I’m betting the earrings were the real deal, whatever Rochelle thinks.”

“If I said how they’re real, she’d be too nervous to wear them.”

“Are they insured?”

“Yeah, yeah.” As his big hand tapped, tapped, tapped on the table, he scowled through the dome. “I look like a fool to you?”

“You look like a big, hard-bodied black man gone soft over a woman to me.”

Without turning his head, he shifted that scowl to Eve.

“If they’re insured, you have the exact description,” she continued, unfazed, “the carat weight on the rubies and diamonds.”

“Diamonds. Rubies.” Peabody hunched her shoulders at the twin looks from her companions. “Sorry. Just wow.”

“Just little ones,” Crack responded. “I liked the look of them, that’s all.”

“What are they insured for?”

“Ten.”

“Th—thousand?” Peabody hunched again. “Sorry!”

“I’ll need that information. They’ll probably try to pawn them. Taking easily identified items from the crime scene’s a stupid mistake. I have to lean toward taking the jewelry’s something they might think gets blamed on Lyle—if they figure cops are stupid enough to buy the OD. But the purse tells me something else. Peabody’s magpie theory.”

“Bright, shiny things.” Crack’s brew finally eased out of the serve slot. “Might be they aren’t looking to pawn. Gonna keep it for their nest, or give it to some skank.”

“And when the beat cops see some gang skank sporting diamonds and rubies, we’ll have them. We have one more lead. The woman across the hall remembered something else. One of the three couldn’t stand still. Like maybe he had music in his head. Makes me think of the geeks in EDD—always moving. And this one had his arms down by his sides, snapping his fingers.