Leverage in Death (In Death 47)

“Where are the brother and the friend?”

“Javier—her mother’s son with husband three—lives in Barcelona, where he’s studying medicine. Both he and Willimina’s mother are arranging travel. They should be here by tomorrow, latest. Juliette is on her way here already. She lives in Santa Fe with her husband and daughter. She’s pregnant with her second child. I told her to wait, not to travel, but she’s coming.”

“If you’d died in the blast? Who gets your shares?”

“Interesting. Willi, but if she predeceased me, they’re to be divided between my brother and sister.”

“Could you give me the names and contact information for all the beneficiaries?” Peabody asked.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to contact my office—and I’ll clear that. I lost my ’link, memo book, and everything else in the blast. I had to beg an orderly to get me something to wear. Except for the shoes.” He frowned at his elevated foot. “They made it through.”

Once Peabody had helped Able back to the waiting area, Eve decided she’d done enough in the field, enough interviews, enough impressions.

She needed to get back to Central, needed to set up her murder board, her book. And she needed to think.

“Let’s grab a conference room, coordinate with Baxter and Trueheart. I need time to write this out, report to the commander.”

“Could we maybe get food—any food whatsoever—from the go place off the hospital lobby?”

“You want hospital food?”

“So hangs my desperation.”

“Fine.” Eve pulled out a handful of credits. “Get desperation food, meet me at the car.”

It would give her time to start reviewing her notes.

A lot of players, she thought, as she walked outside. Deals and the wheels inside them. Shares of this, shares of that.

Somebody, she concluded, had wanted more than their fair share.

4

Peabody hopped in the car, handed Eve a go-cup.

“Soup. Vegetable Beef.”

Eve took a sniff then a swallow before she started winding out of the underground lot. It smelled like pepper and tasted like spicy, liquified cardboard, heated to cautiously approach lukewarm. “Beef of what?”

“They didn’t say, and I thought it wiser not to ask.” Peabody took a gulp, coughed a little. “It’s bad, it’s bad. I should’ve gone for the mini berry pies.”

“They had mini berry pies and you went for liquid mystery meat?”

“And veg.” Peabody choked down another swallow. “I told myself to be an adult, to think of loose pants. Is it gamey? There’s a little bit of gamey aftertaste. Gak.”

“It could be rat. Liquefied, peppered rat.” Eve shoved her cup into Peabody’s hand.

“It’s a hospital! Hospitals don’t serve rat.”

As she wound, Eve swung toward a recycler, stopped. Pointed. “Dispose of the rat soup.”

“It’s not rat. I didn’t drink rat.” But Peabody fumbled the door open, juggling go-cups. She hotfooted it to the recycler, dumped the cups. She slid back into the car, downtrodden. “Can I get a diet fizzy from the AC?”

“What flavor washes away the taint of rat soup?”

“It wasn’t rat, but any.” She ordered up cherry, and a tube of Pepsi for Eve. “The lawyer came off on the level,” she began. “Still, if both he and Karson went down in the explosion, that’s the big bulk of shares in Econo. And with Pearson gone, that’s the majority of Quantum.”

“We’ll take a look at all beneficiaries. It’s a weird-ass way to inherit. Risky and overly complicated. What if Rogan loses his nerve, doesn’t hit the button? What if the main shareholders survive the blast? And Karson may.”