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“I’ll do that and the lieutenant can fill you in. I didn’t even ask your name,” Lillith remembered, and Mike shoved the dark watch cap off a messy thatch of sandy hair.
“Man, Lil. It’s Dallas.”
“It’s— Oh!” Lillith held the belly and laughed. “Hormones ate my brain. Of course it is. Dallas and Peabody. We’ve seen the vid three times. Mike loves it. Well, I’m going to stop worrying about the Moms right now. If Mike thinks you’re the best, you are. I’ll get the coffee. He can help,” she added as she walked away. “He’s a really good cop.”
“She has to say that. But I’ll help any way I can.” He pulled off his coat, a man with a slim build and a cop’s keen eyes. “Edward Mira, Jonas Wymann. Pretty high-powered targets. I can’t see how CeCe, or either of the Moms could connect. They’re solid as they come.”
“Lillith said they’d had this trip planned awhile.”
“Yeah.” He sat on the arm of the chair Lillith had vacated. “We had to give them a boost out the door because of the baby, but CeCe really wanted to go, to absorb the place, to talk to people who’d known this guy she’s writing about. So we compromised. They were going for six weeks, but cut it down to four. And we talk to them every day. Sometimes a couple times a day.”
“Did they book the trip—the travel, the lodging—themselves or use a service?”
“Annie handles all that. CeCe and Annie—the Moms.”
“Can you give us a list of people they’d talk to, people who’d know they’d be gone?”
He puffed out his scruffy cheeks. “It’d almost be easier to give you a list of who wouldn’t know.” He popped up when Lillith came back in with a tray, took it from her.
“Do they belong to any clubs, any groups?” Peabody asked. “You know, women’s groups?”
Eve saw the quick understanding flicker in Mike’s eyes. They were looking for female killers.
“Oh Lord, yes.” Obviously amused, Lillith sat while Mike passed around the coffee. “I remember how you like it, if the vid’s factual. Anyway, Femme Power—that’s a lesbian-based activist group. They’re charter members there. They go to a book club that’s pretty much all women, and help out at a couple of shelters for battered women, rape victims. C-Mom teaches writing as therapy, as an outlet for self, and A-Mom does the same with art. She does bad watercolors. I mean not horrible, just bad. But it makes her happy.
“Now the three of you are wondering what you can say in front of me. I can go in the other room, but it’ll annoy the crap out of me.”
“It’s okay.” Mike rubbed her shoulder. “You’re thinking someone they know through their hobbies or volunteer work used CeCe as a ploy.”
“It’s possible. I’d like as many names from those areas as possible.”
“They won’t betray the women who they’ve met through the shelters or in the therapy sessions,” Lillith said, and her shoulders squared under Mike’s hand. “You can’t expect that.”
“I’m looking for names that are already on my list of suspects,” Eve explained. “Someone used your mother to get close enough to kill someone. She’s killed twice. I believe she’ll kill again.”
“Let me work on that, Lieutenant.” Mike kept rubbing Lillith’s shoulder. “I’ll talk to them, explain. It’s doubtful they have full names, not from the shelter or the sessions anyway.”
“Staff,” Eve added. “We might be looking for other volunteers or staff.”
“They run what they call Positive Forces on Wednesday nights at Community Outreach on Canal,” Mike told them. “The social worker who coordinates is Suzanne Lipski. Twenty-five-year vet, tough and sharp. And clean. I ran her.”
“You did not! Mike!”
“Once I hooked you, they became my moms, too. Bet your ass I ran her. She’ll protect her women, Lieutenant, but she won’t protect a killer. She knows me, so maybe I can get something there if there’s something to get. Or at least pave the way for you some.”
“The more names, the better. And the sooner the better,” Eve said as she rose. “I appreciate the time, the help, the coffee. How do you live on one cup a day?”
Lillith took a tiny sip. “I ask myself that every day when I’ve finished the one cup. And somehow I do.”
—
They look good together,” Peabody commented when they walked back to the car. “Come off solid. And since he’s got an in, he might be able to wrangle some names.”
“Maybe. It’s worth giving him a shot at it first. Clearly somebody connected to Anson knew she’d be out of the way long enough to use this ruse, and wasn’t worried about cops following up.”
Once in the car, Peabody unbundled herself a little. “Those groups—support groups—they’re like priests in the confessional. Absolute confidentiality. So whoever tapped Anson counted on that. A lot of it’s just first names, or code names.”
“Everybody’s got a face,” Eve said and pulled away from the curb. “We show pictures, get reactions. We may not get confirmation, but we’ll get reactions.”
