The In Death Collection 06-10 (128 page)

“Run the numbers, Peabody,” Eve instructed as she picked up the day book.

“Already running the first. It’s a private code.”

“Use my authorization number and get it. Whoever he was talking to didn’t realize Lamont was on his own ’link. Had to figure he was on a public job, or he’d never have left this on the body. Even if he’d wanted it, the tails on Lamont were right on scene.”

“The code’s shielded,” Peabody told her. “They won’t release it.”

“Oh yeah, they will.” Eve whipped out her communicator. Within thirty seconds she had Chief Tibble on the line, and barely two minutes later, the governor’s personal authorization.

“Man, you are good.” Peabody looked on with admiration. “You snarled at the governor.”

“Gives me that shit about privacy acts. Politicians.” She set her teeth, flexed and unflexed her fingers as she waited for the last line of bureaucracy to tumble. “Well, son of a bitch.”

“What is it? Who is it?” Peabody craned her neck to see the data on Eve’s display.

“B. Donald Branson’s private line.”

“Branson.” The blood drained out of Peabody’s face. “But, Zeke. Last night . . .”

“Transmit that call to Feeney, get him to run a voice check. We need to know if that was Branson on the call.” She was moving fast as she snapped out the order. “Contact the guard on Clarissa Branson’s room,” she
continued as they strode down the corridor. “Tell him no one goes in or out of it until we get there.”

She pulled out her own communicator as they swung outside into the cold. “McNab, get down to Mira’s. I want Zeke brought back up. Tuck him away until you hear from me.”

“Zeke wouldn’t know anything about Cassandra, Dallas. He’d never—”

Eve spared Peabody a look as she jumped into the car. “Toys and tools, Peabody. I’d say your brother was being used as both.”

Clarissa was gone. There was nothing to be gained by berating and browbeating the guard on duty, but Eve did it anyway.

“She looks at him, smiles tearfully, and asks if she can go sit in the gardens.” Eve rolled her eyes and tapped the note Clarissa had left behind in her palm. “Then she uses the can I have a glass of water routine she did with Zeke and our boneheaded hero runs off to fetch.”

She circled the conference room, waiting for Zeke to be brought in. “Oops, where’d she go? It takes him thirty fucking minutes to call it in because he’s so sure a sweet little thing like her is still around somewhere. But does he check her room? See the tearful good-bye note?”

Eve unfolded it again while Peabody wisely remained silent.

I’m sorry, so sorry, for everything that happened. It was my fault. All of it. Please forgive me. I’m doing what’s best for Zeke. He can’t be held responsible. I can never face him again
.

“So she leaves him holding the bag. Let’s hear it for true love.” Though Peabody said nothing, Eve held up her hand and began to go through the steps and stages. “Zeke hears them fighting through the vent in the workroom. It’s Branson’s house, his workroom. He knows Zeke’s down there. According to Clarissa, he was wild to keep anyone from knowing he knocked her around. So why doesn’t he fix the damn vent? The staff’s all droids, so he doesn’t worry about them. But he’s got a live one now.”

“You think he wanted Zeke to hear?”

“Follow along, Peabody. I’ve been working this out since last night.”

“Last night?” Peabody’s mouth dropped open. “But, Dallas, there was nothing in the prelim report about—”

She broke off, winced, as Eve shot her a cool stare. “You read my prelim, Officer Peabody?”

“Strap me in irons,” Peabody muttered, “and flog me. He’s my brother.”

“I’ll reserve the flogging for a later date. No, I didn’t put anything into the prelim because the main concern was getting Zeke’s story down and putting him in the clear. But the whole deal screamed setup. Slick, organized, damn well-oiled, but a setup.”

“I don’t see it.”

“You can’t see past Zeke. Take the steps here. They pull Zeke in from out west. I don’t care how good he is, they could’ve found somebody to do this work without transporting him in. But they pull him, a single guy, a Free-Ager. Branson kicks his wife to hell and back, but he lets her import a young, attractive man into the house. And he’s diddling with having carpentry work done when, we suspect, he’s laying plans for the biggest terrorist siege on the city since the Urban Wars.”

“None of it makes sense.”

“Not separately, but it does when you connect the dots. He needed a fall guy.”

“But, for God’s sake, Dallas, Zeke killed him.”

“I don’t think so. Why haven’t they found the body? Why did this cowed, terrified woman manage to get rid of it in less than five minutes?”

“But—who died?”

“This time around, I don’t think anybody did. Toys and tools, Peabody. I’ve seen several of the prototype droids Roarke’s R and D department’s got under production. You wouldn’t make them at a glance, even a close look.” She glanced around as Zeke came in, followed by Dr. Mira.

“Doctor?”

“Zeke’s my patient, and he’s under considerable distress.” Gently, Mira walked him to a chair. “If you feel it’s necessary to interview him, I want to be here.”

“Zeke, do you want your lawyer?” Eve asked him, and he only shook his head. Sympathy threatened to surface. She knew firsthand how miserable Testing could be. She set the recorder, sat across from him. “I just have a few questions. How many times did you meet Branson?”

“I only saw him twice. Once over the ’link and then last night.”

“Just once, over a ’link?” But he’d recognized Zeke instantly. Branson had reportedly been stumbling drunk, but he’d tagged Zeke at a glance. “The whore and the handyman,” Zeke had quoted him as saying. “So most of your contact was through Clarissa. How much time did you spend together?”

“Not a lot. When she was in Arizona, we talked. We had lunch a couple of times.” He looked up quickly. “It was harmless.”

“What did you talk about?”

“Just . . . things. All sorts of things.”

“Did she ask you about yourself?”

“I guess, yeah. She was so relaxed and happy. Not like she is here. She liked hearing about my work, and she was interested in Free-Agism. She said it sounded like such a gentle and kind religion.”

“Zeke, did she come onto you?”

“No!” His shoulders straightened. “It was nothing like that. She was married. I knew she was married. She was just lonely. There was something there.” He said it with a wonder that made Eve’s heart sink for him. “Right away, and we both knew it, but we wouldn’t have done anything. I didn’t know how he treated her, I just knew she was unhappy.”

“Last night was the first time you’d actually seen Branson in person. He never came down to the workroom, never called you up to discuss the projects?”

“No, he never came down.”

Eve sat back. She was willing to bet Zeke had yet to meet B. Donald Branson in the flesh. “That’s all I need for now. Zeke, you’re going to have to stay here, in Central.”

“In a cell?”

“No. But you have to stay here.”

“Can I see Clarissa?”

“We’ll talk about that later.” Eve rose. “The uniform will take you up to the recreation area. There’s a sleeping bin off the side. I think you should tranq up and use it.”

“I don’t use tranqs.”

“Me, either.” She softened enough to smile at him. “Use the bin anyway. Get some rest.”

“Zeke.” There was so much Peabody wanted to say, wanted to do, but she held it in and looked at him soberly. “You can trust Dallas.”

“I’ll be up in a minute.” Mira patted his arm. “We’ll use meditation.” She waited until the uniform came to take him out. “My testing is complete enough for me to give you an evaluation.”

“I don’t need it.” Eve cut her off. “It’s for the record, not for me. He’s not going to be charged.”

Mira relaxed fractionally. In the last two hours, Zeke had slipped past her professional veneer. “He’s suffering. The idea that he took a life, however accidentally—”

“It wasn’t an accident,” Eve corrected. “It was a setup. If I’m on target, B. Donald Branson’s very much alive, and most likely with his wife. I can’t get into the details, I don’t have time,” she continued. “You looked at Clarissa’s statement, you viewed the recording.”

“Yes. It’s a classic case of abuse and shattered self-esteem.”

“Classic,” Eve agreed with a nod. “Like textbook. Like line for line out of a case study. She didn’t miss a trick, did she?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“No friends, no family support. Delicate, helpless woman dominated by an older, stronger man. He drinks, he beats her. He rapes her. She sticks. ‘Where will I go, what will I do?” ’

Mira folded her hands. “I realize you would find her inability to change her situation a sign of weakness, but it isn’t at all atypical.”

“No, it’s dead typical. And I’m saying that’s just how she played it. Played Zeke, played me, and would have played you. I think you’d have caught on, and she probably figured the same. That’s why she’s gone. And when we check Branson’s financials, I guarantee the money’s gone, too.”

“What possible reason would the Bransons have to fake his death?”

“The same reason they arranged his brother’s. Money. The same reason they timed it to pull part of the team away from the central theme. More money, with a little payback thrown in. We’ll tie them to Apollo. Sooner or later, something’ll click. Take care of Zeke. If I’m right, we’ll be able to tell him he didn’t kill anyone. Let’s move, Peabody.”

“I can’t keep up,” Peabody told her. “I can’t get it straight in my head.”

“You will, when we get the rest of the pieces. Check those financials.”

Peabody scrambled to keep pace as they worked their way down to the garage. “Jesus, Branson transferred fifty million—that’s most of the fluid cash in the business—to an off-planet, coded account. He did it last night, two hours before Zeke . . .”

“Check their personal accounts.”

Working one-handed, Peabody slid into the car. “Six personals, between twenty and forty apiece. He cleaned them out yesterday.”

“A nice little nest egg for Cassandra.” As she drove, Eve contacted Feeney on her communicator.

“Voiceprints match,” he told her. “Now how are we going to arrest a dead guy?”

“I’m working on it. Take a run by Branson T and T; take a look at the droids in development. Did we get the order for tapping Monica Rowan’s lines?”

“They’re tapped. Not a peep so far.”

“Keep me up.” She ended transmission. “Peabody, contact the locals up in Maine, get a black and white to do a runby. I want Monica under wraps.”

Lisbeth wasn’t pleased to see cops at her door. She stared through Eve and ignored Peabody. “I have nothing to say to you. My counsel has advised—”

“Save it.” Eve pushed her way in.

“This is harassment. One call to my lawyer, and I’ll have your badge.”

“How tight were the Branson boys, Lisbeth?”

“Excuse me?”

“J. C. must have talked to you about his brother. What did they think of each other?”

“They were brothers.” Lisbeth shrugged. “They ran a business together. They had their ups and downs.”

“Did they fight?”

“J. C. didn’t fight with anyone, really.” Something like grief flickered in her eyes and was quickly shut down. “They disagreed occasionally.”

“Who ran the show?”

“B. D. ran the show.” Lisbeth waved a hand. “J. Clarence was better with people, and creatively he enjoyed having input in new projects. It didn’t bother him that B. D. held the reins.”

“What was his relationship with Clarissa?”

“He liked her, of course. She’s a charming woman. I think she intimidated him somewhat. She’s very formal and aloof for all that air of fragility.”

“Really, but you were friends?”

“Friendly. After all, we were both involved with a Branson. We socialized, with and without them.”

“Did she ever tell you B. D. mistreated her?”

“Mistreated?” Lisbeth let out a short laugh. “The man fawned on her. All she had to do was bat her eyes and purr and he jumped.”

Eve glanced toward the wall screen, noted it was turned off. “Not watching the news these days?”

“No.” She turned her head and for a moment looked tired and strained. “I’m making arrangements to clean up some personal matters before I transfer to the rehabilitation center.”

“Then you wouldn’t have heard that B. Donald Branson was killed last night.”

“What?”

“He fell during a struggle when he was beating his wife.”

“That’s ridiculous. That’s absurd. He wouldn’t lay a hand on Clarissa. He worships her.”

“Clarissa claims he’s been abusing her physically for years.”

“Then she’s a liar,” Lisbeth snapped out. “He treated her like a princess, and if she says otherwise, she’s lying through her teeth.”

She stopped abruptly, went very pale.

“You didn’t find the photographs in your mail slot, did you, Lisbeth? You had them handed to you by
someone you trusted—someone you thought cared about J. C.”

“I—I found them.”

“No point in lying to protect the Bransons. He’s dead, and she’s gone. Who gave you the photographs of J. C., Lisbeth? Who gave them to you and told you that he was cheating on you?”

“I saw the pictures. I saw them with my own eyes. He was with that blond bitch.”

“Who gave them to you?”

“Clarissa.” She blinked once, twice, and tears started to stream. “She brought them to me, and she was crying. She said how sorry she was, how sorry. She begged me not to tell anyone she’d given them to me.”

“How did she get them?”

“I never asked. I just looked at them, and I went crazy. She told me it had been going on for months, and she couldn’t pretend not to know any longer. She couldn’t stand to see me hurt and J. C. ruin his life over some cheap lay. She knew how jealous I was, she knew. When I got to his house, he denied it. He told me I was crazy, there wasn’t any blonde. But I’d
seen
! And the next thing I knew, I was picking up that drill. Oh my God, oh my God. J. C.”

She collapsed into the chair, wailing.

“Get her a tranq, Peabody.” Eve’s voice held no sympathy. “We’ll have a car come by and pick her up. When she’s pulled it together, McNab can take a statement.”

“I know we’re pressed for time.” Peabody jumped in the car again. “But I feel like I’m three steps behind.”

“Branson’s connected to Cassandra. Clarissa’s connected to Branson, Zeke’s connected to Clarissa. We’re led to believe that both the Branson brothers meet with untimely and violent ends within a week of each other. Meanwhile, the accounts are stripped. Zeke’s brought in
from clear across the country to work at the Branson house, and within a couple of days, he’s tangled with Branson over Clarissa and supposedly killed him. But Clarissa, out of her fear and concern for Zeke, loses the body.