Vendetta in Death (In Death 49)

“What big gorilla?”

“You know, the fact that she cheated with Pettigrew on his ex when she wasn’t his ex. He cheated with her, but everybody was real careful not to mention it. Like the big gorilla in the room everybody pretends not to notice.”

“Oh, oh, elephant. It’s the elephant in the room.”

“That’s stupid. You can’t ignore a freaking elephant who wouldn’t be able to fit in most rooms anyway. Plus, there’d be massive piles of elephant shit. Try not noticing that.”

“I think that’s actually the point of the saying.”

“Which just makes it stupid. You could pretend to ignore a gorilla because some people bear a freaky resemblance thereto.”

Considering that, Peabody pursed her lips. “I knew this guy at the Academy who sort of did.”

“There you go. In any case, they all avoided that area of discussion, and they’d all know. Just like they all know she’ll go through the hysterics, then settle down and move on. But let’s check on the brother anyway.”

Peabody worked it while Eve fought the traffic wars back over the bridge.

“He was at the poker party,” Peabody reported after a brief conversation on her ’link.

“Should’ve figured it.”

“He left about eleven because he had an early series of meetings today. And he’s at a conference in Connecticut right now. He left this morning about seven. I did a run while I talked to him, Dallas. He comes off pretty squeaky clean. One marriage—eight years in. Two kids. He doesn’t have a license to drive, doesn’t own a vehicle.”

As Eve avoided contact with a compact that swerved into her lane, she snarled. “A lot of people shouldn’t have one.”

“Grew up in New York, moved to Hoboken after the first kid from the timing on his data.”

“It’s not going to be him. They’re not going to be involved. Just not enough there for the level of violence. It’s a vendetta.”

She pulled into the garage, thrilled to be finished, for now, with the hordes of people who shouldn’t have a license to drive.

“I’m going to say it again. You don’t have to do this thing with Tibble.”

“I’m going to say it again,” Peabody countered as they got out of the car. “Your ass, my ass.” She made a fist, pumped it. “Pan.”

Eve just shook her head.

They rode the elevator as far as Eve could stand it, squeezed out when a bunch of shiny new uniforms trooped on, herded by the grizzled vet she assumed had drawn the short straw for leading an orientation.

She hit the glides. “Check in with EDD, see if McNab’s made any progress.”

The more she had to present, Eve thought, the better.

“He’s into it.” Peabody read the reply on the ’link screen. “Hack confirmed, but it’s multiple. So far he’s got them going back for sixteen months. He hasn’t been able to pinpoint. Can’t ascertain as yet if it’s one hacker or more.”

“Good enough for now. The

killer cyber-stalked him.”

They switched back to an elevator for the rise to The Tower. Tibble’s offices soared high above the streets, and the desks of the cops who worked them. But Eve had reason to know that distance, that height, didn’t remove New York’s Chief of Police and Security from those who served and protected.

But those who rose that high had more than law and order to oversee. They had to deal with politics, with optics, with media perception.

She acknowledged that reality, more or less accepted it, and often thought: Better them than me.

She paused outside Tibble’s office where his admin manned a workstation with two screens, a D and C where several lights blinked insistently, a ’link humming incoming even as he talked on a headset.

“Hold, please.” He turned to Eve and Peabody. “Just one moment, Lieutenant, Detective.” He tapped his headset. “Sir, Lieutenant Dallas and Detective Peabody are here. Yes, sir.” He tapped again. “You can go right in. He’s ready for you.”