Leverage in Death (In Death 47)

“Have you given it to anyone?”

“Oh no, no one. Not even Johnny. You can’t break trust.”

“Do you have it written down?”

“No.”

“How do you remember it?”

“It’s easy. It’s all the initials of our first names, in order of age. PCIM—the numbers of the alphabet for them. So it’s sixteen—one-six, that is—three, nine, thirteen. I don’t understand. Did something happen at the house?”

That part of the report hadn’t hit the media, Eve thought—or it hit after Iris turned off the screen. “Two men broke in—got through security. At this time we don’t believe they knew the code.”

Her breath started to hitch. “You said Cecily and Melly were all right. You said—”

“They will be. Ms. Greenspan was hurt, but her injuries aren’t critical. You can contact her through her mother when we’re done here.”

“Melly?” Rocking faster, Iris fisted both hands over her heart. “Did they hurt Melly?”

“Nothing serious. Do you answer the ’link when you’re working?”

“Yes. Please, I just need to talk to them.”

“Melly threw Jupiter out her window to get the cops’ attention.” Peabody added a smile to her soothing voice. “She’s smart, brave, and she’s fine.”

“She is smart. She is.” More tear swiping. “Okay. They’re okay.”

“Have there been any contacts,” Eve continued, “repeat contacts you don’t know personally, surveys asking questions, anything like that in the last six months?”

“Nothing I can think of.”

“Think back to December. What was going on?”

“Oh, the holiday prep. Melly was so excited as we counted down to Christmas, even though she doesn’t believe in Santa anymore. I helped with the decorating, as I always do. We make a party of it. There’s extra marketing and shopping. I’d pick up things for both Paul and Cecily. Paul especially this year as he was already working hard on a campaign. And of course, Melly and I would go out to shop—our secret shopping and wrapping. For her parents, and a few of her girlfriends, her grandparents.”

“Nothing unusual.”

“I can’t think of . . . Well, unusual for me, but I don’t see—”

“Anything.”

“I had my ’link and wallet lifted, right out of my purse. And I know better. Born and raised in New York, so I know how to be careful, and still.”

“How, when?”

“We’d been shopping, Melly and I, hours of it, and had lunch out. A busy Saturday. I don’t work Saturdays as a rule, not for a couple years now, except sometimes over busy times and in the summer break. We were loaded down, and I was a little tired. I got careless. We were on the subway platform, crowded, noisy, and Melly was so excited. I had her hand, firm grip. And there was some jostling as the train came in. That had to be when it happened as I’d just used my ’link to scan us through the turnstiles. And when we were on the train, and I went to get it out—just to let Johnny know I’d pick up a curry on the way home—my ’link and my wallet weren’t in my purse.”

“Did you report it?”

“I did, only because Paul and Cecily insisted. Who would find them? I couldn’t say who took them, only when I thought. I had to cancel the debit card I carry, and the other apps on my ’link and so on. I hadn’t had but a little cash. Well under a hundred dollars, but I had photos in my wallet that meant something to me.”

“But not the codes for the security system?”

“No. Detective—I’ve already forgotten your name.”

“Lieutenant Dallas.”

“I’m sorry, Lieutenant, I’ll swear to you on all I love, you’ll never meet a man more decent and caring than Paul Rogan. If he did what they say he did, it’s as you said. He was coerced. More than even that. I don’t know what the word would be, but more than even that. Please, can I try to reach Cecily and Melly now?”