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“And coincidence is bollocks.”
“If that means bullshit, damn straight.”
“Two of my suspects and one of the suspect’s alibis also have connections either to Yale or each other.”
Baxter’s expression turned feral. “Coincidence is bollocks.”
“Oh yeah, it is. Two wealthy and successful men.” Eve paced as she thought it through. “Both Yale alumni, both aimed toward politics, different areas thereof, but power seekers. First vic had a sidepiece of the month, or close enough.”
“Love to say the same at his age.”
That earned Baxter a stony stare. “We find out if this vic had the same ambitions in that area.”
“Very sexy sex droid up in his bedroom.”
“So I’m told.”
She glanced up as Roarke came down.
“And the sexy sex droid tells us it was last utilized thirty-two hours ago,” Roarke commented. “McNab’s taking in electronics, but we found nothing that pertains on his comps and ’links on a surface search. A spare pocket ’link in his home office, desk drawer. It hasn’t been used, so spare is literal to my way of thinking.”
“And the one he did use isn’t here. So if anything on there pertains, the killers have it. Baxter, you and Trueheart take the vic’s professional contacts. Get a feel, get alibis. Find me his sidepieces if he had them.”
“Can and will.”
“I’ll send you names and pictures of the women on the first vic’s list. Let’s find out if they ring for anybody at the second vic’s office. Peabody, tell McNab I want every byte of data on every piece of equipment here and from the first vic’s office. Any- and everything that overlaps gets priority. This is payback. What did they do—together—to earn it? Tell him now. We need to get to the morgue.”
“The morgue before breakfast. Pro or con?” Peabody started upstairs. “I’ll let you know.”
“Professional contacts,” Eve repeated. “Confirmation of alibis.”
“LT, it’s oh-five hundred,” Baxter reminded her.
“We’re up. Why shouldn’t potential murder suspects be up? Get gone.”
“We’re going to be a couple of popular guys, Trueheart.”
“Any orders for me, Lieutenant?” Roarke asked as they headed out.
“You should go home, buy another chunk of the solar system.”
“Just another day at the office.” He watched a white-suited sweeper bag the noose. “For both of us.” But he took her arm, led her a short distance away. “Do you believe these two men were partners in some sort of ugly sex game? Partners in rape?”
“I don’t believe anything yet. But that’s an angle I’m going to look at. The grandson said they took his life, and took his dignity. They damn well did. There’s a reason for the humiliation as much as the torture and kill. I read payback. Who did these two men humiliate?”
“And what sin or crime did they commit that what was done could be considered—by any—justice?”
“Yeah. Good friends, long-term friends. What secrets did they share? There’s something, yes, ugly under this. And it still reads sex. I can get you a ride home.”
“I can get my own ride, thanks all the same. Tend to yourself,” he murmured. “Not just my cop, but to that young girl you still carry with you.”
“Don’t worry about me.”
He took her face in his hands, kissed her firmly before she could stop him. “Don’t be a git. I’ll be in touch,” he added as he walked to the door.
She let out a huff of breath, turned in time to see the nearby sweeper grinning through her face shield.
“What are you grinning at?”
