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“Ah, yeah. Yeah. He had a couple of women, addicts. Both claimed to be his wife. Neither were, legally. He had a brother, younger brother. He did some running for Cecil, but copped a plea down to rehab and community service. Risso. Risso Banks. He’d be about twenty-two, twenty-three.”
“They’re not in your threat file.”
“I was in on the busts, but not as primary. The women made a lot of noise, but nothing that worried me. The kid, the brother? Cried like a baby, which helped him with the plea.”
“Good. We’ll check it out. That’s what I want you to do. Whatever springs, write it down, note the dates, the basic circumstances. We’ll take it from there.”
“Lieutenant, what is the probability Deena’s murder is connected to me, to the job? You’d have run that.”
No way to soften it. And to do so insulted him and his child. “At this time, with the data gathered, the probability is ninety-eight point eight.”
He sat again, and the mug in his hand trembled slightly. “It’s better to know. Better to know. Do I tell her mother? I have to, but how? How do I tell her mother? We’re planning her memorial. Thursday. It seems too fast, too soon. Thursday. We just couldn’t . . . I’ll write it down. But how do I stand it?”
He broke. And watching him shatter twisted her heart, her guts. She stood where she was as Whitney went to him, as her commander gently took the mug of coffee, set it aside, and put his arms around MacMasters.
Whitney looked at her, signaled for her to go.
She left, headed downstairs. She wanted out, just for a moment, just for a breath of air. When Summerset paused on the bottom landing, some of the anger, some of the pity must have sh
own on her face before she schooled it away.
“The loss of a child goes deeper than any,” he said. “It doesn’t pass the way other losses may. However the loss came, a parent looks inward. What could I have done, what didn’t I do? When the loss comes from violence, there are more questions. Every answer you give him is both pain and comfort, but there can’t be any comfort without the pain.”
“None of the answers I gave him today lead to comfort.”
“Not yet.”
When he continued on, Eve simply sat on the steps. She’d take her moment there.
Before she could take the moment, her ’link beeped. “Dallas.”
“Lieutenant Dallas, this is Dr. Lapkoff of Columbia University. I spoke with you and your husband last night.”
“That’s right.”
“I’d appreciate a few moments of your time today, regarding this matter.”
“This matter is a homicide investigation.”
“I’m aware.” Lapkoff’s face remained cool and set. “As portions of that investigation cross my milieu, I’d like to discuss it. This institution will cooperate with you as much as possible. I would appreciate the same from you and your department.”
“Are you on campus now?”
“I am.”
“Twenty minutes,” Eve said and clicked off.
She took out her communicator to contact Peabody. “Status?”
“More of those shoes have been sold in the past six months than you’d think. I’m concentrating on New York venues and online sources.”
“Keep at it then. I’m going to meet with the president of Columbia, then with Mira. After, we’re going to check out a couple of possibles. I’ll swing back and get you, or tell you where to meet me.”
She clicked off, contacted Mira’s admin. “I need the doctor to meet me rather than come into her office. I’m going to be in the field.”
“Dr. Mira is—”
“An essential member of this investigative team. The commander has given this investigation top priority. I need her to meet me at the building housing the offices of the president of Columbia University in an hour.”
