Fantasy in Death (25 page)

“How about Bart and Benny? Any tension?”

“They go back so far. They’d tease each other a lot—that kind of ragging guys do on each other. Like I was over there last week, because we were going to catch a vid after work. He and Benny were testing one of the games, going one-on-one, and Bart just slaughtered him. And Bart rubbed his face in it. They do that all the time, but I guess all the work they’d been putting in was starting to tell, because Benny got steamed. I could see it. Benny said maybe they’d try it IRL—in real life—next time and stalked off. Bart just laughed. I told him when we left he’d hurt Benny’s feelings.”

She shrugged. “It was just guy stuff. Stupid guy stuff.”

“She’s a nice woman,” Peabody commented when they got back in the car. “I know it’s pointless to speculate, but I think they would’ve stuck. His history indicates he’s the sticking kind.”

“Yeah. And he feels a little more normal now. Gets irritated with friends, has some arguments.”

“None of them seemed murderous.”

“Not to him. We can’t be sure about the friend. Cill—questioning her authority and creativity. Var—shutting down an idea for change. Benny—skewering his ego and e-skills. It tells us he’s normal, that two of the partners wanted something he didn’t and were overruled, and the third got his ass kicked in front of others. It’s unlikely any of those incidents were the first of their kind, and very possible any of those incidents was, for one of them, a last straw.”

“You and I argue, and you’ve been known to shut me down and kick my ass. I’m not plotting your murder. At this time.”

“I bet you’ve imagined kicking my ass.”

Peabody cast her gaze up to the roof of the vehicle. “Imagination is not against the law or any departmental regulations.”

“That’s the point. It takes a certain type, or a flashpoint incident to cause someone to turn imagination into reality.” She drummed her fingers on the wheel, thinking it through as she drove. “They all fit the profile, in my opinion. And turning imagination into something as close as possible to reality is what they try to do every day. So, one step more, and it’s absolutely real.”

She glanced down at her dash ’link, smiled at the text on-screen. “Reo came through. Put three teams together,” she ordered Peabody.

“Me?”

“Is someone else here?”

“No, but—”

“An e-man with each team. We’ll circulate. I want all weapons confiscated, even the toys. I want all discs evaluated, all comps, all coms evaled on-site.” She ran down the list briskly while Peabody scrambled to key tasks into her PPC. “Any question on any of them, they come in. I want all sinks, tubs, showers, and drains tested for blood. I want any and all droids on any of the premises also evaled.”

“Okay.” Peabody swallowed, then nodded. “I follow you.”

“Good. Make it happen. You and I are going by U-Play to notify the partners. Tell the ranking officer on each team to secure the warrant for his or her area.”

“Copy that. Dallas, do you really think, if one of the partners killed Bart, they’d leave evidence in their own space?”

She thought of a simple pizza box. “It happens.”

15

W
hile Peabody put the teams together via ’link, Eve contacted the commander with an update.

“Are you looking at all three partners, acting in concert?”

“No, sir. I don’t believe they could’ve pulled it off, nor do I believe all three of them could or would have turned against the victim and toward murder. It’s possible, and it’s possible two of them conspired as Mira’s profile indicates a strong probability for two killers. But...”

How to explain?

“It doesn’t fit for two of them in a conspiracy. It’s too off-balance. If half the whole goes bad, how can the other half not notice? I believe they’ve all been under a lot of pressure to complete the project, and that caused some friction in the group. But to plan a murder like this takes time and thought, and goes deeper than friction between friends and partners. It may have been the excuse, the catalyst for one to act, but it was always under there.”

“Which one?”

She hesitated. “I’ll be better able to answer that after we see what the searches turn up. Having their personal space searched also adds pressure. I want to see the reactions.”

“Turn up the heat and see if one of them boils over?”

“Something like that, sir.”

When she completed her update, Eve glanced over to see Peabody staring at her with cool, narrowed eyes. “What?”

“You know.”

“Many things.”

“You know which one.”

Eve shook her head. “I lean toward one.”

“Which one?”

“You tell me.”

“That’s not fair.” The cool look edged into a pout. “We’re partners. You’re supposed to tell me.”

“You’re a detective. You’re supposed to figure it out.”

“Fine. Fine. Okay, I get the whole half of the whole, off-balance, how could two of them turn on their old pal. But I think it had to be two. Not just because of Mira’s profile, which plays out for me, but because logistically it’s more solid. One to slip out and do the job, the other to hang back and cover.”

“You’re right. It’s more solid.”

“And you still think it’s just one of them?”

“Yeah, I do. They’re a tight circle—square, whatever. A closely knit and tied group. One of them veers off on this. That individual could disguise the resentment, envy, hate, ambition. Whatever of those served as driving force or excuse. Bad mood, overwork, distracted. Now make the individual a pair, which first means the spearhead in this has to take on a partner, has to trust.”

Off-balance, she thought again. Too much weight—or hate—on one side of the whole.

“Now you have two people trying to hide murderous intent,” Eve continued, “and by and large people aren’t that good at strapping down their more passionate feelings. And after the deed’s done, both those people have to project shock and grief, not only to us but to the last remaining member of the group.”

“If all three of them conspired?”

“Then Bart Minnock would have to have been completely oblivious to what was going on in his circle of close friends and partners. That’s not how I read him, certainly not how I read him after this last interview with the girlfriend. He had a sensitivity, a read on his people. And at the base, there’s just no motive, no sense in the three of them plotting to kill him. They’d be the majority. If they all wanted something from him, from the business, wanted a change or were just fucking sick of him, they vote him out or off, or push as a unit.”

The murder and the method equaled more than business, Eve thought. More than a bigger share of the pie.

“In the legal sense, the partnership agreement, they went with majority rule. And he didn’t have any more authority or power than any of the others. They
gave
him the authority and power, a tacit sort of deal. They let him run the show because he was best suited for it, and it was working.”

“Okay, you’re talking me into it,” Peabody said. “And one of them didn’t want him to run the show anymore, but that meant it was three against one, so, take him out and it’s no longer a problem.”

“That’s part of it. It has to be deeper, but the method of murder says raging ego to me, and serious loathing. The loathing may have built over time. Bart got the majority of the media attention, and he was the go-to guy at U-Play. He said no, or let’s go this way, they tended to go along.”

“Now there’s a void. And voids need to be filled.”

“That’s correct, Detective.”

“Given their backgrounds, skills, and personalities, any one of them could fill it.”

“I’m not convinced on the personalities.” She pulled into the lot. “For now, let’s go in and screw up their day.”

The warehouse was busier than the day before. Machines beeped and buzzed, shapes and colors filled screens. People went about their business with black bands around bare arms or the sleeves of colorful tees.

Eve spotted Cill riding up a level in one of the glass-walled elevators. The long fall of black hair had been tamed into a single neat braid. She wore a black suit, and black dress shoes with short, squat heels.

Respectful, Eve mused. Sensible—and unless she missed her guess, new.

Out of curiosity, Eve tapped one of the techs. “Where can I find Cill?”

“Um. Her office? She’s been in there all morning.”

“Uh-huh. Thanks.”

She glanced at Peabody, then jerked a head toward the stairs. “Most of these people are in their own bubble, or in a bubble with whoever they’re working with. They don’t pop it unless they’re told to or need something. The alibis aren’t going to hold.”

They didn’t find Cill in her office, but in the break room where she sat alone, rubbing her left temple and staring into a power drink. Her head snapped up, and her knuckles whitened on the tube.

“You’re back. Does that mean—”

“No. Not yet.”

Her body slumped. “I don’t know why it matters so much. When you find out who killed Bart, he’ll still be dead. I don’t know why it matters.”

“Don’t you want to know who killed him?”

“Yeah. Yes. But... right now, it just doesn’t seem to matter. Sorry.” She waved a hand. “I’m just bottomed, I guess. Do you have more questions?”

“Actually, we’re here to notify you that we’ve obtained search warrants for your residence, and those of Benny and Var. They’ll be carried out this morning.”

“I don’t understand. You’re going to search my apartment?”

“That’s correct.”

“But why? For what?”

Eve watched her face change, those sharp green eyes fire, her cheeks flush with furious color. “You think I did this to Bart? To
Bart
? What the hell is wrong with you? You’re supposed to be ace-high at what you do, and you think I killed Bart?”

“No one’s accusing you. It’s necessary to explore all avenues.”

“That’s just bullshit. You’re getting nowhere so you start hassling us. You waste time with us while whoever killed him gets away with it.” Tears sparkled in her eyes for a moment, but the heat of temper burned them off.

“I thought it didn’t matter, finding Bart’s killer.”

“Don’t you even say his name to me.” Her voice spiked up; her fists clenched. “I don’t want you pawing through my things.”

“We have a warrant to search, and that warrant will be executed. It’s your right to be present during the search, and to have legal counsel or representation present.”

“You’re a stone bitch. I
loved
him. He was my family. We—Jesus God—we’re having his memorial service this afternoon. His parents are coming. I’ve been dealing with all the details, and now you come at us with this? You think I can just leave and go watch you get your rocks off poking into my private space?”

“Your presence is a right, not an obligation.”

“What’s going on?” Var rushed in with Benny right behind him. “Cilly, we could hear you on Mars. What’s going on?”

“Contact Felicity. We need to contact her right now. This excuse for a cop thinks we killed Bart.”

“What? Come on. No, she doesn’t.”

Var reached her first, squeezed her arm. Once again, Benny followed.

They flanked her. The three points of the triangle, Eve thought.

“What’s going on, Lieutenant?” Var asked.

“She’s going to search our apartments. This morning.”

“What for?” Benny stared at Eve as his arm went around Cill’s shaking shoulders.

“Is that legal?” Var looked from Eve to Peabody and back again. “I mean, don’t you have to ask or get a warrant? Something?”

“We have warrants. As a courtesy, I’m notifying you that these searches will take place this morning. None of you is being accused. We’re simply pursuing all avenues in the investigation.”

“You could’ve just asked.” Benny drew Cill closer, angled his long, skinny frame toward her. “We’d tell you anything you want to know. We have. It’s not right what you’re doing. It’s not right that you’d upset Cill like this, today of all days.”

“It’s Bart’s memorial.” Var pressed his lips together. “Couldn’t you just wait, one day? One day. His parents will be here. If they hear about this it’s only going to make it harder on them. God, isn’t it hard enough?” He turned away, stepped over to brace his hands on the counter. “We’re trying to do what’s right for Bart. What he’d want.”

“Yeah,” Eve said, “me, too.”

“He wouldn’t want you upsetting Cill,” Benny cut in. “He wouldn’t want you making us feel like suspects.”

“I’m not responsible for how you feel,” Eve said, deliberately harsh. “I’m responsible for the investigation. It’s within your rights to be present during the search, and to have a legal representative present.”

“I want Felicity,” Cill insisted.

“I’ll take care of it. I will,” Benny told her. “Don’t worry. We can’t all go, all be there.” He glanced over to Var. “We can’t all leave, especially today. You can go, Cill, if you’d feel better.”

“I can’t. I still have things to do for the memorial. I haven’t put it all together yet.”

“I can take care of that.”

“No.” She tipped her head to Benny’s chest briefly. “I need to stay and finish it.”

“You go, Benny.” Var turned back, sighed. “One of us should. Cill and I can handle things here. It’s just what they do, the police, I guess. Just what they have to do.”

“So, what, it’s not
personal
?” Cill snapped, then immediately closed her eyes. “Sorry. I’m sorry, Var.”

“It’s okay.” Weariness more than anger reflected on his pleasant face. “We’re all upset. Let’s just get it over with. Benny, maybe you could check at each of our places.”

“I can do that. I can do that, sure. I’ll go to your place first,” he told Cill. “I’ll be there when they start. Don’t worry about it.”

“My place is a mess.”

He smiled at her. “What else is new?”

“It doesn’t matter, does it?” She reached out, took Var’s hand so they were once again united.

“It’s just what they have to do,” Var said. “But I’ll get in touch with Felicity. You’re right, Cill, she should know.”

“Okay, that’s the plan.” Cill lifted her chin. “If that’s all, Lieutenant, we’d like you to go. We don’t want you here.”