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“So you knew both of the victims.”
“I did. I also know you—it’s Flake, isn’t it? And you . . .” She glanced left and farther back. “Newton. And there’s Jackson over there. I know a lot of people. Some of them are reporters, some are lawyers, some are criminals. Some are law enforcement.”
“Didn’t the messages indicate the killings had been done on your behalf?”
She started to go with the scripted version, more or less, she’d gone over with Kyung. Changed her mind on the spot.
“Your information is inaccurate. And at this point in the investigation I will not discuss specifics. I will not speculate in the media as to the killer’s motivations. What I can and will say is this. Two people are dead through the deliberate and callous act of another. This is an open and active investigation, and as primary of that investigation, I will use the full resources of the NYPSD in the pursuit of the person who took their lives. It’s my job to identify and apprehend the person responsible, and to turn this person over to the courts so they can mete out justice.
“I’m going to do my job.”
She stepped back from the podium and, ignoring the questions shouted in her wake, walked away.
“That’s it,” she told Kyung.
“Not quite what we had discussed, but it worked well enough. I’ll deal with the rest.”
She nodded, then stopped. “The information was inaccurate. He—or she—didn’t kill on my behalf. I’m the excuse, and that’s a different thing.”
And that, she told herself, was what she had to remember, because if he had a third target in his sights, she didn’t have enough to stop him.
She went straight to Mira’s office, prepared to battle the dragon at the gates to get ten minutes inside. When Mira’s tight-assed admin held up a finger, Eve bared her teeth, ready to attack.
“Give me a moment to let her know you’re here. She has another consult in fifteen minutes, so you’ll have to make it quick.”
Surprised, and just a little disappointed they wouldn’t go a round, Eve shifted back off the balls of her feet. “I can make it quick.”
“Doctor?” the admin said after tapping her earpiece. “Lieutenant Dallas is here. Yes, of course. Go right in,” she told Eve.
“Okay.” Eve stepped to the door, glanced over. “Why?”
“Because my instructions are, for the duration of your current investigation, to admit you unless the doctor is in session or in a consult.”
“Okay,” Eve said again, and opened the door to Mira’s domain.
Tasteful, as Mira was, tidy and somehow female. The blue scoop chairs offered color and comfort, a few family photographs the personal. Though the window was—always—privacy screened, the winter sun trickled in light. More light beamed from some sort of fancy lamp over an array of flowering plants spilling from stone-gray pots along the windowsill.
“That’s new,” Eve commented.
“Yes. My daughter’s Christmas gift. She made the pots, started the plants from cuttings.”
“She make the light, too?”
“Actually, my son-in-law did. They’re a clever pair. Tea? I’d guess you’ve had more than enough coffee already today.”
“There is no more than enough, and your admin warned me to be quick.”
“I have fifteen minutes, so we’ll have tea. Sit down.”
“I’m too revved. I think there may be a pattern—chronological.”
Mira nodded as she walked over—cherry-red heels today with a winter-white suit and a triple chain of tiny red stones.
How did anyone think in the morning about matching a necklace with their shoes? How did anyone have a necklace that matched their shoes? Did they buy the shoes first or the necklace, or was it just random?
She could ask, Eve considered, but the answer would probably baffle her as much as the question.
“Your last meeting with Ledo came after your first with Bastwick,” Mira began. “But then Bastwick’s attempts to discredit you in the media, with the Barrow appeal, were more recent. Still . . .” Mira programmed tea for both, handed Eve the delicate cup and saucer, took one of the scoop chairs. “Ledo would have been the easier kill.”
