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Eve just stared him down until he shrugged.
“I guess it’s fine. She’s out for the count. Like I said, long night.”
He stepped back into an obsessively trendy living area that screamed Single Guy Looking For Action!
Lots of glass, metal, black fake leather, enormous entertainment screen with an open-front cabinet below loaded with discs. A small bar, black and silver, outfitted with various glassware ruled a corner. Photos and pencil sketches of nude females decorated the walls.
Scattered over the floor were a pair of high, hot pink heels, a black skirt the width of a place mat, and what looked to be an animal-print thong.
“Wasn’t expecting company.” With an easy laugh, he scooped up the female debris, tossed it all on a chair. “So, I need coffee. You want?”
“No, thanks.”
“I gotta jump-start the brain cells.” After tapping his temple, he walked behind the bar.
Eve heard the faint beep, deduced he had a mini-AutoChef built into it.
“So what can I do for you ladies?”
Eve swallowed the “ladies.” He just wasn’t worth it. “You’re aware by now that Jerry Reinhold has killed four people.”
Joe’s eyebrows drew together in a frown as he shook his head. “I’m no lawyer, but I think you need some serious proof to make that stick.”
“His fingerprints and DNA all over the murder weapons and the crime scenes are a pretty good start. Seeing him on the security discs of the banks where he transferred his parents’ funds pick up on that. And having him identified by several eyewitnesses selling valuables from his parents’ apartment kick in, too.”
“Okay, I know it looks bad.” He took a sip of coffee from an oversized black-and-white-striped cup. “God, that’s good! Are you sure you don’t want a hit?”
“Positive.”
“Okay. The thing is,” he continued as he skirted the bar, gestured to the long, low sofa, “I’ve known Jerry for years.” He took a seat in the chair without women’s clothing, slid down, kicked out his legs. A man at his ease. “It’s really hard to process he might have tripped out and killed somebody.”
“His parents, his ex-girlfriend, and his former Computer Science teacher would disagree with you, if they weren’t dead.”
“Harsh.” He drank more coffee, crossed his ankles. “I’m just holding out that there’s been a mistake.”
“Have you had contact with Jerry since last Thursday night?”
He shifted in his chair. “No. And—full disclosure—I did try to tag him, just to hear his side of things, you know? Maybe he’s just freaked—who wouldn’t be—and keeping it real down-low.”
“Are you just that stupid?” Eve wondered.
“Come on, no call for that.” Irritation flicked briefly over his face. Here then gone. “Maybe somebody framed him. Maybe tried to kill him, too, so he’s hiding out. He could be dead himself. Or, okay, maybe he went totally whack and did all this. There’s nothing I can do about it.”
“He’s working his way down a list, Joe. You could be next.”
He laughed, shooting his legs out again, tossing his head back. “Please. NPW—no possible way. Lady—”
“Lieutenant,” Eve corrected with a whiplash in her voice. “The homicide lieutenant who waded through Jerry Reinhold’s parents’ blood two days ago, who stood over the body of Lori Nuccio that same night, and over the tortured body of Edie Farnsworth the day after.”
“Well, sure, I’m really sorry about all that, but—”
“There’s nothing to laugh at here. He beat, stabbed, bludgeoned, strangled, smothered human beings. You should start wondering what he’s got in store for you.”
The smile had vanished, but he waved a casually dismissive hand. “He’s got no reason to hurt me. We’re bros.”
“You won in Vegas; he lost. And you rubbed his face in it. That’s more than enough for him.”
“Hell, Jerry’s not like that, he knows I was just yanking. Plus I bought everybody a round of drinks.”
