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“No, sir. Billy does have nice shoes, and appears to be in big trouble.”
“I didn’t kill anybody!” Billy’s voice spiked. “I got a job. I pay rent. I pay taxes.”
“And I bet when I do a run of your financials—income, outlay, and so on, I’m going to find some interesting discrepancies.”
“I get good tips.”
“Billy, Billy, Billy.” On a windy sigh, Eve shook her head. “You’re making this harder than it has to be. Peabody, call in a black-and-white. We’ll need our friend here transported down to Central and held for questioning.”
“I’m not going anywhere. I want a lawyer.”
“Oh, you’re going somewhere, Billy. But you can have a lawyer.”
Eve went with instinct and called in a team of sweepers.
“You think this is the vehicle.”
“Nondescript gray, no fancy touches. Who’s going to notice it? It’s parked and largely unused, only a good healthy walk from the data club. Quick subway ride or a longer but still healthy walk from there to the 24/7 where Rachel Howard worked. Same with Columbia. Drive it uptown to Juilliard, to Lincoln Center. Hey, you can take it out basically whenever you want. Safer than using your own, if you have one. Safer than officially renting anything. Slip friendly Billy the fee, drive off.”
She stood back as the sweepers arrived and got to work. “It fits him. You don’t steal a vehicle. That’s makes the vehicle a target. Borrow a friend’s? What if the friend mentions it to another friend? What if you run into trouble, have a fender bender? Friend’s going to be pissed. But something happens to this, you just ditch it, and leave Billy holding the bag.”
“But Billy knows him.”
“Unlikely. Just another side customer. If he used it, he used it twice, and made certain he didn’t do anything to make him memorable. He’s smart,” Eve continued. “And he plans. He’d scoped out Ernestine, this place, the van, Billy, well in advance. He lives or works in this sector.”
She tucked her hands in her back pockets and looked toward the garage entrance, toward the street. “But he didn’t kill them here. Don’t piss in your own pool.”
“Should I run imaging and photographic businesses in this sector?”
“Yeah.” Eve replied. “We’re closing in.”
One of the sweepers popped out. “Getting a lot of human and feline hair, Lieutenant. And some synthetic. Plenty of prints.”
“I want everything you get taken directly to Berenski at the lab. I’ll clear it.”
“Shouldn’t take long. Vehicle’s pretty clean.”
“Appreciate it. Peabody.” She headed back to her own vehicle, pulling out her pocket-link as she walked. “Berenski.”
“Yeah, yeah, busy. Go away.”
“Dickie. I’ve got a sweeper haul heading your way within the hour. Sucked up from what I believe is the van used to transport the vics in the two college homicides.”
“Tell them to take their time. Won’t get to it till tomorrow, maybe the day after.”
“You get to them before end of shift, give me verification, I’ve got two seats, owner’s box, for the Yankees. You pick the game.”
He rubbed his chin with his long, long fingers. “You’re not even going to argue and threaten me first. Just the bribe?”
“I’m kind of pressed for time myself, so let’s just cut to it.”
“Four seats.”
“For four, I want the results wrapped in a pink ribbon and delivered to me within two hours—from now.”
“Done. Go away.”
“Dickhead,” she spewed as she stuffed the ’link back in her pocket.
