Celebrity in Death

He’ll never get older, never graduate or fall in love. He’d be old enough to have grandkids now, but he’s always going to be twenty.”

“He’s a good one for you to keep in your head. A good one for you to stand for in this. You remember his face and his name, Peabody, and remember he never had a chance to be older than twenty because Joel Steinburger cut off that chance. He cut it off, and he got away with it. So he cut off other chances.

“We’re going to make sure he never does it again.”

She answered her beeping ’link. “Dallas.”

“McHone. I got lucky. Found the evidence box, case book, the tagged electronics. The works. Couldn’t get it off my head after I talked to you, so I went in, started digging.”

“I owe you. Look, we’re hot here. If I could have what you found, I can get our top dog in EDD and a civilian consultant with mad skills to dig into the e-stuff. I’d appreciate getting my hands on that case book, and the rest.”

“If you find something that lets me tell Pearlman’s widow he wasn’t a coward and a thief, we’ll be square. I’ve got to push through some paperwork to clear sending this out to you, then make arrangements for secure transport.”

“I can expedite some of that. I’ll have my commander deal with the red tape, and I’ll get the transport. If you ever need anything from me, D-S McHone, just reach out.”

“I’ll do that.”

“Get Whitney to get this rolling,” she told Peabody. “I’ll get the transport moving.”

She started to contact Roarke, winced, hissed, paced to the window and back. It was wrong, she knew it, to interrupt him every time she needed something he could supply.

Maybe it was like swallowing sand, but she contacted Summerset instead.

“Lieutenant?”

“I need a fast, secure shuttle to transport two NYPSD officers to California, and bring them and sensitive evidence back to New York.”

“I see. I’ll need the exact destination, and your preferred departure center.”

“That’s it?”

“I assume you wish this transportation expedited, so yes, destination and departure centers will suffice.”

“Okay.” Still suspicious, she told him.

“Very well. Have your men at departure, with valid identification and signed authorization, of course, in thirty minutes.”

“Signed authorization from who?”

“From you, Lieutenant. As the shuttles are, always, at your disposal, the officers only require your authorization. Unless you intend to accompany them, then it won’t be necessary.”

“No, I’m not going. They’ll be there in thirty.” She swallowed more sand. “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

She frowned at the blank screen on the ’link. How was she supposed to know it was that easy? If she’d known it was that easy, she could’ve contacted the transpo station herself. Still, Summerset could likely cut through it all faster anyway.

“Dallas.”

“What?” Distracted, she glanced over, saw Reo at the door. “Yeah.”

“You got your warrant. I let Feeney know.”

“Good. We’ll start rolling the ball.”

“You don’t want to hear it, I know, but you’re going to have to be really lucky for him to say anything you can take to court on these murders.”

“He may say something that leads to something else, that can be. It’s a process, Reo.”

“And one that may take years—if ever—to build a case against him for the old murders. Shouldn’t you focus on the two already in your hands?”

“I can focus on more than one goal at a time. A college kid, a pregnant woman, a husband and father, an old man, a woman smart enough to divorce him, some guy just doing his job. Who do you want me to forget?”

“None of them. But if you can close it down on Harris and Asner, he’s never going to see daylight again. He’s only got one life, Dallas, and if we do this right he’ll spend what’s left of his in a cage.”

“That’d be fine, if it was only about him. It’s also about seven people and the lives they’ll never get to live. Did you look at them?” Eve demanded.

“Yes. I know. I know, Dallas. I want him for all of them. I want to prosecute him for every one, and win. Which is a fantasy because if we ever got enough to take him down for all of them, my boss would be all over it, and I’ll settle for first chair. But I’d settle, now, for a solid case on one count—put him away, and hope we can gather the others over time.”

“I’m not ready to settle. When we get enough to box him on Harris and Asner—or either—I’m going to break him to pieces on the rest. On the whole. Then I’m going to hand you those pieces on a platter.”

“And I’d take them. Mira’s worried. You got that, too? She’s worried he’ll find a way to block the light on him and beam it on someone else. Or worse. We don’t want to add another to his scoreboard.”

“I know how he thinks now. I’m going to stay ahead of him.”

“Keep me in the loop. And if you get me a couple more slivers, I’ll do a hard push for the search warrants.”

“You could try it now.”

Reo only shook her head. “I try it now, I’m going to get a no. I get a no, it’s harder to get a yes later.”

Eve saw the logic, even if she didn’t like it. “You know when we—me and Peabody—went to the set before Harris got dead and things got sticky, they were shooting this scene where a feisty young APA accompanies two homicide cops into the Icove residence, and when they find a DB, the APA passes out cold.”

“Crap. Crap. They put that in there?” Her face a study in mortification and annoyance, Reo did a quick circle. “Crap. It was my first body. It could’ve happened to anyone.”

“It happened to you. The actress went down really graceful.”

“You enjoyed it.” Eyes slitted, Reo pointed a finger. “You enjoy my video humiliation.”

“It doesn’t suck for me. And if memory serves, you made up for it. You stuck your neck out, you got things done.”

Reo sighed. “Get me a sliver. One sliver, and I’ll stick it out again.”

“Get ready to do just that.” Eve grabbed her coat.

“Oh my God.” Reo made a hum of almost sexual pleasure.

“Really?” Keeping some distance, Eve shrugged into the coat. “Seriously, sex noises over a coat?”

“It’s … delicious.”

“Don’t lick it. Once,” Eve said, knowing damn well she wouldn’t get past Reo without it. “You can touch it, but just once.”

“Mmmm. It’s gushy.”

“What is that word?” Eve muttered, striding out into the bullpen. “Peabody, with me. We’ll get you the sliver,” she said to Reo.

The wind whipped over the water and blew the scent of it inland. It was a pretty enough day, and the tourists took advantage, wandering the park, piling on ferries for a trip to Liberty Island. Gardens continued to bloom, the colors edged toward the rusts and umbers of fall.

Vendors had their stalls—the ever-enterprising locals—to hose those tourists on the price of a soy dog, souvenirs, guides, toss-away ’links and cameras for those who’d lost or forgotten their own.

Eve stood studying the marina where sleek boats rocked on the busy water.

The private section was gated off to discourage the curious, those inclined to vandalism or thievery. But she didn’t see it would be much of a problem to bypass. Just as she imagined those who could afford to dock—moor— whatever it was—their spiffy boat in this location had security measures on the spiffy boat.

“That’s Violet Holmes.” Peabody lifted her chin toward the woman walking toward the gate.

She wore a crisp red jacket, jeans embellished at the pocket with thin gold braid, and a striped red shirt. The