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“Okay. Am I in trouble about something? Oh shit, did Mongo get on the ’link? I didn’t get home last night, but my droid’s supposed to look after him. I—”
“Who’s Mongo?”
“My parrot. He’s a good boy, but he likes to access the ’link for cranks.”
“It’s not about your parrot. It concerns Bart Minnock.”
“Bart? Bart’s in trouble? That explains why I can’t reach him. But Bart wouldn’t do anything illegal. Does he need a lawyer? Should I . . .” Something crossed his face—a new kind of puzzlement, and the first shadows of fear. “Is he hurt? Was there an accident?”
“I’m sorry to have to tell you Mr. Minnock was murdered yesterday.”
“Oh come on!” Quicksilver anger replaced the fear. “He was here yesterday. This isn’t funny. Bart knows I cruise a joke as much as anybody, but this isn’t chuckle.”
“It’s not a joke, Mr. Leman,” Peabody said gently. “Mr. Minnock was killed late yesterday afternoon in his home.”
“Nuh-uh.” The childish denial came out poignantly as tears sheened deep, dark eyes. Benny took one stumbling step back, then simply sat on the floor. “No. Not Bart. No.”
To keep their faces level, Eve crouched. “I’m very sorry for your loss, and I understand this is a shock, but we need to ask you some questions.”
“In his apartment? But he has security. He has good security. He’s too trusting. Did he let someone in? I don’t understand.” He looked at her pleadingly as tears streamed down his cheeks. “Are you sure? Are you positive?”
“Yes. Do you know someone who’d want to hurt him?”
“Not Bart.” Benny shook his head. “Not Bart. How? How is he dead?”
She wanted to wait on the details. “When did you last see him or have contact with him?”
“He left early yesterday. I’m not sure. About four, maybe. He had a date with CeeCee. His girl. And he had some things he wanted to do at home. He was really happy.” He grabbed Eve’s hand. “CeeCee? Is she hurt? Is she okay?”
“Yes, she’s fine. She wasn’t there.”
On a ragged breath, Benny closed his eyes. “No, that’s right. He was going to her place, for dinner.” He scrubbed his hands over his cheeks, then just left his face buried in them. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Was he having any trouble here, with the company, with employees?”
“No. No. Things are good. Really good. It’s a happy place. Bart runs a happy place.”
“What about competitors?”
“Nothing, really. Some try to hack in, or try to get a weasel inside. That’s just the way it is. It’s kind of like another game. Bart’s careful. We’re all careful. We have good security. We screen and delouse and realign regularly.”
The door opened. Eve glanced back to see a stunning Asian woman with black hair tied at her nape to fall straight to her waist. Her eyes glowed cat green in her fine-boned face.
“Bens, what the hell? I’m piled up by six, and you’re . . . What’s wrong?” She rushed in to drop by his side. “What happened?”
“It’s Bart, Cilly, it’s Bart. He’s dead.”
“Oh, don’t be stupid.” She slapped his arm, started to rise again, but he grabbed her hand.
“Cilly, it’s true. These are the police.”
“What are you talking about?” Her reaction Eve gauged as insult as she pushed fluidly to her feet. “Let me see some badges.”
She snatched Eve’s then yanked a miniscanner out of her pocket. “Okay, maybe it reads genuine, but—” She broke off, and her hand trembled slightly as she stared at the name on the badge, then at Eve’s face. “Dallas,” she whispered. “You’re Roarke’s cop.”
“I’m New York’s cop,” Eve corrected, then took back the badge.
“Roarke’s cop doesn’t bullshit.” Cill knelt down, wrapped an arm tight around Benny’s bony shoulders. “What happened to Bart? Oh God, oh crap, what happened to Bart?”
