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“No, I mean you, being him. That’s a little scary.”
“She gave me a nice picture of him and she doesn’t much like him, that came through.”
“It did.”
Eve started the car, pulled away. “No particular feeling for him, which tells me Joe likely didn’t warm up to him either. She talked about Weaver coming out here, and there was emotion when she did. She talked about Vann and Callaway contacting her, and she was grateful. Vann sent a big-ass ham so she wouldn’t have to think about food. It meant something to her.”
“People send food for death.”
“They do?”
“It’s a line from a book, I can’t think what book. But yeah, people send food for death, flowers for sickness. To Kill a Mockingbird! That’s it. Score for me.”
“I’ll make a note,” Eve said dryly. “Weaver comes all the way out to Brooklyn to see the widow, and I’ll bet they had a weep together. Vann contacts her, talks to her, and sends food. But Callaway, just the contact. He does what he has to do, and nothing more. That’s why somebody like Joe wouldn’t especially warm to him, and why his widow didn’t either. Weaver doesn’t like him either, or she’d have slept with him. He does a good job, he has some good ideas, but he doesn’t shine for her. Carly Fisher did.”
“We should find out who else did. If we can’t close him down, he’s going to go after another.”
“You’re right about that.” Eve tapped her fingers on the wheel as she drove. “We’ll talk to Fisher’s roommate, find out who she hung with from work. And we’ll bring him in. I want to talk to the parents, get a—”
She broke off when her ’link signaled, then switched it to her wrist unit. “Dallas.”
“That is so iced,” Peabody murmured.
“Lieutenant, Agent Teasdale. I’ve arranged for the Callaways to be brought into New York. They should be at Central by fourteen hundred.”
“That’ll work.”
“The search warrant proved more problematic. However, given the scope of the investigation, and the crime, I was able to persuade the appropriate judge to sign off. If you agree, a team from HSO will assist whoever you send to Arkansas.”
“That works, too. I’ll get back to you on that. I’ve got some arranging of my own to do.” She clicked off, tagged Baxter.
“Get Trueheart, huddle with Teasdale. You’re going to join an HSO team in Arkansas on a search of Callaway’s parents’ house.”
“Arkansas? Barbecue!”
“Glad I can bring a smile to your face. Look for mementos of the Urbans, letters, journals, photos, discs. Religious stuff, political stuff—anything personal Callaway might have left there. Anything from when he was a kid. Schoolwork, music, books. See if there’s anything that shows he had an interest or aptitude for science.”
“I got it, Dallas. When do we leave?”
“Teasdale will let you know. And contact the locals, Baxter. HSO might shoulder them aside. Let’s reach out there, cop to cop.”
“Got that, too. Are we using Roarke’s transpo?”
“Forget it,” she said, and cut him off. “Peabody, contact Callaway.”
“Me?”
“Don’t squeak. Jesus. You tag him. The lieutenant would appreciate him coming down to Central, if he ha
s the time.”
“So I’m polite.”
“Polite, even deferential. We could use his help. He’s familiar with both attack locations, and knew several of the victims. You can let it slip we had a lead fizzle out, and we’re backtracking. He wants to be involved, he wants to know what’s going on and have some role in the investigation. I haven’t given him much chance. Now I am. He’s going to jump at it. He’ll make noises about his schedule,” she speculated, “but he’ll come in. When he does, we’ll take him in the conference room.”
“You want him to see the boards?”
“With a few adjustments. Ask him if he can come in about three, three-thirty.”
