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“We’ll take Bruberry. She’s going to be very, very unhappy her boss flipped on her.”
“You think she’ll crack?”
“Two hours tops.”
“Put money on it?”
Eve considered. “Fifty.”
“Done.”
In one hour and fifty-three minutes, Peabody walked out of Interview. “I’m kind of torn. I’m out fifty, but it was fairly frosty to watch her go down. Didn’t just crack, she exploded.”
“And knew more of where the secrets are locked than her boss.” Eve rubbed her hands together. “Double or nothing on Chase?”
“I figured we’d hit Bullock next.”
“Nope, I’m saving her for last.”
“No bet,” Peabody decided. “You’re hitting your stride.”
As they turned, they saw Baxter hotfooting it down the hall. “Sweeper report, wanted to hand-deliver it.” He slapped a file, with disc, into Eve’s hand. “On Sloan’s vehicle. They found a single hair, headrest, driver’s seat. It’s Chase’s. EDD report,” he added, handing her another. “My new best friend, McNab, found transmissions to and from a Doctor Letitia Brownburn, London. Authorities there have already picked her up, and acted on a warrant to close down Sunday’s Child, until further investigation into its practices. There are also transmissions to Cavendish’s office—Madeline to Bruberry, and from Madeline to the London office where she conversed for some length with Stuben. They spoke cryptically, of an imminent delivery.”
“Cavendish and Bruberry both sang like fat ladies,” Eve told him. “We’re taking Chase next.”
“I’ll be in Observation with Reo.”
“Baxter, why don’t you take this round. I’ll observe.” Peabody glanced at Eve. “That work for you?”
“Fine.”
“I appreciate it. How do you want to handle it?”
“Hard and mean. No deals, no good cop. He’s got a temper. Let’s piss him off.”
“Like your style.”
They went in together. Eve slapped the files on the table where Chase sat with three lawyers.
“Record on.” She read off the data. “There’s one suit in here too many.” She shot up a hand before any one of them could speak. “Anything over two reps is at my discretion. One of you get out.”
“As Mr. Chase is a British citizen and the absurd charges levied against him so serious, we require special representation for international law, for criminal law, and for tax law.”
“I don’t much care what you require. One of you get out. Now, or this interview is over, and your client goes back to sit in his cell until you’re down to two.”
“We expect some courtesy.”
“You’re not going to get it. Detective.” She turned for the door.
“I can handle international and criminal.” The lone woman, a brunette of about fifty, spoke in clear, unaccented tones. “I think it’s in our client’s interest to have this straightened out as soon as possible.”
One of the men rose, strode stiffly out of the room.
“Mr. Chase, you’ve been read the Revised Miranda, is this correct?”
When he sat stonily silent, the woman spoke again. “Mr. Chase acknowledges the reading of his rights.”
“I hear that from him, on record, or again, this interview is over.”
