Vendetta in Death (In Death #49) - J. D. Robb Page 0,26

didn’t McEnroy tag Printz for the pickup from the club, as arranged? As was his pattern?”

“Oh, okay. So the killer persuaded him to walk, maybe? Or the killer had the transportation.”

“It’s going to be the second—more people see you walking, and why let more people see you? Pattern, Peabody, why does McEnroy break it, why does he give up the control of his own car and driver when all of this is about him having the controls?”

“Maybe he knew the killer, trusted the killer. The text to Printz came in just before midnight, so McEnroy was, probably, already incapacitated, and the killer sent the text. So…”

“This was planned, carefully. She—because the killer’s going to be female—had to get McEnroy to her chosen location, with her in control. How did McEnroy get women into his transpo, and to his locations?”

“He drugged them. She drugged him at the club. Turned the tables, used his own methods.”

“Roofied him,” Eve agreed. “Added more in the transpo—Morris got tox back. We’ll check out This Place after we talk to Jessica Alden. We might hit some luck, get a description of his killer.”

“We’re in some luck now,” Peabody said as she checked her communicator. “Alden just got here.”

“We’ll keep the room. Go ahead and bring her in.”

“I’m getting a fizzy.” Peabody rose. “You want a cold one?”

“Pepsi works. Offer Alden whatever she wants. We’ll start friendly.”

Eve tucked the fresh printouts gleaned from Printz in the file, cross-checked her notes on the time stamp of the vid she’d watched. Alden coordinated with a nine-thirty pickup at La Cuisine, a restaurant on the Upper West, the previous September.

Take the candidate—for job placement, for rape—to dinner, slip a little something in her drink, walk her out to the limo, slip her a little more on the drive home. Into the lobby, the penthouse elevator, up to the bedroom, where the camera’s already set up.

She sat back, caught a glimpse of herself in the two-way glass.

Maybe she looked a little pale, she admitted, but she’d been at this since before dawn. And she’d forgotten to grab anything for lunch. No, she’d worried she wouldn’t be able to stomach anything, she corrected.

She’d fix that, she promised herself. She wasn’t going to fall into the comparison trap. She wouldn’t let old wounds start throbbing again, old memories cloud her judgment or objectivity.

She had a job to do.

When the door opened, she had the file open as if reviewing the contents. She closed it when Peabody shut the door behind Alden.

The curvy redhead wore a good suit in pale blue, ankle-breakers covered with a floral pattern, and an expression of mild annoyance.

“Lieutenant, Ms. Alden.”

Without waiting, Jessica sat down, tapped the tube of sparkling water on the table. “Coming down here’s put a hitch in my day. I heard the news about Nigel McEnroy, and it’s shocking. But you can’t be talking to everyone who ever worked through Perfect Placement.”

Maybe not so friendly then, Eve thought, and cracked the tube Peabody handed her. “Not everyone, no. Just those we believe may have reason to want McEnroy dead.”

“Why in God’s name would I want him dead? I barely knew the man. I was headhunted by PP, but I worked primarily with Sylvia Brant. I don’t think I met with McEnroy more than three or four times.”

Eve went with the faintest of smirks. “You did a lot more than meet with him last September eighteenth.”

“What?”

“Dinner at La Cuisine ring any bells?”

That drew Jessica’s eyebrows together. Beneath them her eyes, a gold-flecked brown, went momentarily blank. “What? Oh, yes.” The mild annoyance returned. “Of course, last September. I was one of the two candidates up for the position I now hold at Broadmoore. He—McEnroy—he was in New York to weigh in on the placement, and we had a business dinner. A business dinner,” she repeated, and rubbed her left hand up and down her right arm.

“And after the business dinner you went with him to his home.”

“I certainly did not!” Hot color flashed into her cheeks. “Are you actually implying I slept my way to my position? That’s not only a lie, but an insulting one. I’ve worked hard to reach this point in my career, and I don’t sleep around, or use sex for advancement. Add to it, he’s married, has kids. And I was in a serious relationship.”

“What did you do after the business dinner?”

“I … I walked to the corner.” She cracked her own tube with a quick snap. “I walked to the corner,