“As were the e-mails. We have various locations. I’ve listed them for you.”
“I’ve got to go finish putting this together. You saved me some time, so I won’t be punching you.”
“My face is relieved, yet strangely disappointed.”
“I don’t know when I’ll be home.”
“Neither do I, as when I’ve cleared up some business I need to clear up, I’ll be coming down to Central to see if I can be of use to Feeney.”
“I’d tell you Feeney can handle things, but with nine dead, I’m not turning down any help. No point, is there, in telling you not to buy a bunch of food for a bunch of cops?”
He sent her a cheerful grin. “None at all if I’m hungry.”
When they were out on the street, he cupped her face in his hands. “No point telling you to catch an hour’s sleep, even if it’s on the floor of your office.”
“Probably not today.” Her ’link signaled. “Hold on. Dallas.”
“Tell me you love me.”
“I can’t. My husband’s standing right here. He might get suspicious.”
“He’ll understand,” Peabody claimed, “when you both hear what I found. Guess whose mommy had a scorching affair with a dead French chef before he was dead. Like twenty-five years ago.”
“Delaflote boned Dudley’s mother?”
“That’s the word, mostly in French. It was a BFD in Europe back then. The vic was younger, and she was still married to the father. She left him—the husband—and set up house with Delaflote. Didn’t last more than about six months, but it broke the marriage, and, according to the gossip back in the day, caused serious embarrassment for the Dudley family.”
“That’s worth a ‘very fond of.’ ”
“Aww, I’m all about the love.”
“Find me a connection between Adrianne Jonas and Moriarity, more than he was an occasional client, then we’ll talk love. Status with the shoe?”
“I’ve been buried in illicit affairs, fashion, marital high jinks, and celebrity scandals. I’ll check.”
“I’m heading to the morgue. When I’m done, I’ll be in. Polish it up, Peabody.”
“I think it’s starting to shine. I really do.”
Eve clicked off. “I have to go.”
“What about the shoe?” he demanded as she jumped in her car.
“The bastard was wearing the same shoes we caught on security when I interviewed him this morning. Cookie crumbs.”
He watched her go, and decided he’d pick up a few dozen cookies before he met her at Central.
Peabody tagged her back as she strode down the white tunnel of the morgue. “I’m still at ‘very fond,’ ” Eve said.
“You may be ready for ‘sweet on,’ at least. Unofficially, McNab says if it’s not the same damn shoe, he’ll eat it with barbecue sauce.”
“He’ll eat anything with barbecue sauce. I need official.”
“Feeney just confirmed, officially, that the shoe Dudley was wearing this morning is the same size, the same make, the same color as the shoe on the amusement park security.”
“Close but not sweet enough.”
“He can’t state unequivocally it’s the same shoe. He can give that an eighty-eight-point-seven probability.”
“I want ninety plus. See if he can enhance the images any more, or squeak that out. Ninety’s better than eighty-eight.”
“I’ll relay.”
Eve stuck the ’link in her pocket, and pushed through the autopsy suite’s doors.
Morris looked up from his work. “Well, Dallas, we’re having a hell of a summer.”
“It’s going to be hell for two smug bastards before it’s done.”
“Before we get into this, I want to thank you for arranging this gathering tomorrow.”
“Oh. I think—”
“I find myself pulling back, too often, from friends. It’s easier, and more self-indulgent, to be alone. I need a nudge out of that cycle from time to time.”
“Yeah.” And there went her very rational, reasonable plan to postpone the whole deal. “Well.”
“Can I ask a favor? I’d like to bring someone.”
Her jaw nearly hit the floor. “Ah, sure . . . I didn’t realize you were . . .”
“Not that sort of someone. Chale—Father Lopez. He’s a good friend now, and I know you think highly of him. He’s fond of you.”
A lot of fondness going around, she thought. A priest at a cop party. Mostly cops, she corrected. What the hell. “No problem. It’ll be good to see him again.”
“Thanks. And now for your doubleheader.”
“Ha. I called it a two-for-one sale. We’re both sick.”
“How else do you get through a hell of a summer? Our Frenchman is actually from Topeka, by the way. Born Marvin Clink.”
“No shit?”
“Peabody did the run, which included the full data, and legal name change. In any case, your supposition on scene was correct. Death by harpoon. It’s been identified