Eve. “Ms. McEnroy states that you and the civilian consultant you took with you were both accusatory and aggressive toward her. Ah…” He swiveled his comp screen, tapped it. “Badgering and belittling her,” he read, “while smearing her husband’s good name in order to blame him for his own murder.”
He tapped the screen again, folded his hands. “She has threatened to bring suit against both of you and the department, unless you are both dismissed. She intends to appeal to the governor if you’re not fired by the end of the day.”
“Respectfully, Chief Tibble,” Eve said, “she can appeal to the deity of her choice, it won’t change the facts. Her husband was a sexual predator, the fact of which she may or may not have been aware. Rather than badgering or belittling, Roarke—the civilian consultant—attempted to sympathize and comfort.”
Tibble raised a brow. “I take it you did not attempt to sympathize and comfort.”
“He’s better at it, sir. In order to investigate this matter, it was imperative to interview the spouse of the victim, to ascertain whether or not she was in any way involved or complicit in his death. If you don’t look at the spouse—”
“You’re an idiot,” Tibble finished. “Do you believe the spouse in this case was involved or complicit?”
“I don’t. I believe she turned a blind eye to his actions because she didn’t want to believe him capable, didn’t want to accept he continued to cheat on her. And now, faced with the raw truth, she lashes out.”
“Considering the facts regarding the victim’s actions, behavior, crimes you’ve uncovered, do you feel capable of continuing to investigate his murder, without prejudice?”
“Sir. There’s no question of that.”
“Good. Moving on. We now have a second victim. You believe they’re connected.”
“By method, yes. In the killer’s mind, yes. And there is a strong probability there’s a connection to a support group for women who have been abused, raped, cheated on. Some of the women McEnroy raped and the ex-wife of Thaddeus Pettigrew, the second victim, all attended this support group.”
Interest flickered, for an instant, in Tibble’s eyes. “I take it McEnroy’s widow didn’t attend this group.”
“There’s no evidence at this time to indicate that, no, sir.”
Tibble took pity on her, gestured for her to stand. “Go ahead, since we’re here, fill us in.”
Eve rose. “We spoke with the woman who founded the group. We have no reason to believe she’s involved. She requested a warrant for the names in her notes. They use first names only, but we have McEnroy’s book, and may find some that cross.”
Pleased to be on her feet, and to talk it through, she continued. “The second victim routinely hired, we believe without the knowledge or consent of the woman he lived with, LCs from a company called Discretion. The person in charge there confirmed Pettigrew has been a regular for several years—which would include his time with his ex-wife, and through his relationship with a Marcella Horowitz. Ms. Horowitz was out of town with three other females at the time of Pettigrew’s murder. Both Peabody and I believe her shock and upset at being informed and interviewed regarding his murder—and his predilection for LCs—was genuine.”
“She’s young, Chief, Commander,” Peabody added. “And while, like Ms. McEnroy, she doesn’t want to believe she was betrayed, we conclude she’ll come around to it.”
“In addition, these murders took a cool head to plan. Both victims had their e’s hacked. There’s nothing in the widow’s or in Horowitz’s data that indicates they’d have the knowledge or skill, which both the civilian consultant and EDD confirm this sort of hacking entails.”
“And the poem left with the bodies?” Whitney spoke for the first time.
“A nice flourish” was Eve’s opinion. “And personal. A justification for the killings, and the torture. Pettigrew’s ex-wife, Darla Pettigrew, started a company several years ago that manufactured and programmed droids. She may have the knowledge and skill.”
“If you don’t look at exes,” Tibble began.
“You’re still an idiot,” Whitney finished. “You’ve spoken to her?”
“Yes, sir. Ah, I need to disclose, as the civilian consultant accompanied me this morning to Pettigrew’s body, both he and McNab accessed the electronics. When doing so, Roarke discovered the company, Data Point, one sold during the divorce, had been acquired by Roarke Industries.”
“He knew the victim?” Tibble demanded.
“No, sir,” she replied. “In fact, the transaction was done through lawyers and reps. It was, to Roarke’s estimation, a small acquisition. However, Pettigrew had managed to acquire the controlling interest in the company, without his wife’s