Eve filled Peabody in on the way to Central.
“Nobody that Mavis or Leonardo saw having a moment with Harris mentioned it in Interview,” Peabody pointed out.
“Let’s find out why.”
“Do we bring them in?”
Eve considered it. “Yeah. Let’s play this as a routine follow-up, but make them come to us. Contact each one, make the arrangements. I want to get this new info down, start the board and book. Then we’ll see them one at a time. Jog their memories.”
Keep it friendly, Eve thought.
For now.
“START A DEEPER RUN ON THE VIC,” EVE ORDERED as she and Peabody rode the elevator in Cop Central. “Let’s see if we can find any other connection between her and the other people at Roundtree’s last night, including staff and catering.”
“On that.”
When they stepped off, Eve spotted two of her detectives huddled at Vending outside the bullpen.
Carmichael, her hair twisted up and secured to the back of her head by some sort of clamp, turned. “LT.”
“Detectives.”
“Sanchez here is running down our choices of liquid refreshment.”
“I merely pointed out that the lemon fizzy sold here contains no actual lemons. If you want actual lemons in a fizzy, you go to the deli around the corner. They make theirs on site.”
“And my contention is, the body’s full of chemicals anyway. Why not add more?”
“Fascinating.”
“Well, we’re after some liquid refreshment before we haul in a bunch of lowlifes,” Carmichael told her. “We caught one last night. A couple of bangers went out in that illegals stall disguised as a basketball court on Avenue B. One guy’s dead on scene with a lot of holes in him. The other was still breathing, got holes, and also had his head bashed in with an old iron post—which had his blood, skin on it, but no prints.”
“More interesting than lemons,” Eve decided.
“Since the bashed-in guy croaked this morning, we’ve got a double, that maybe looks at first glance like the two DBs just DB’d each other.”
“But since the DB with just holes didn’t have gloves, wasn’t sealed, and was really completely DOS,” Sanchez added, “it’s hard to buy he wiped his prints off the iron post before he became dead. Plus the ME didn’t find any cloth, rag, or handy shirt inside the DB on the off chance he wiped and ate, and we didn’t find anything that could have done said wiping on scene. We conclude a third party did the bashing and wiping.”
Sanchez was fairly new to her division, but Eve liked his style. “At this point, I would be inclined to agree with that conclusion.”
“So we’re going to haul a bunch of bangers known to associate with both vics, which means a long day of bullshit.”
“Hence the desire for liquid refreshment prior to,” Sanchez finished.
“Hence. Was the iron pipe from the scene?”
“A few of them lying around,” Carmichael confirmed. “Used to be a fence.”
“Look for an initiate, younger banger wannabe or a girlfriend who’s not a full combat member. Another banger would more likely use a sticker. Pipe’s a weapon of opportunity, and any self-respecting banger wants to cut, not bash.”
“Good point.” Carmichael nodded. “And potentially less bullshit.”
“I’m still not drinking fake lemons.”
“There’s a deli on Avenue B that still does genuine egg creams,” Eve told them. “Cost you ten, but worth it.”
“I know that place.” Carmichael pointed at Sanchez. “I know where that is.”