Delusion in Death (34 page)

“So, this woman didn’t actually know the man she was with.”

“I don’t believe so. But I had the sense the two women were friends.
Good God, how could she do that to her friend, to someone who trusted her?”

“Trust is often a weapon,” Eve said. “But we’re not absolutely certain CiCi Way was a source.”

“You believe she was.” He shook his head as he studied her picture again. “She’s young. The young are often impressionable, easily swayed. Easily used.”

“Did you see them come back?”

“I was getting ready to leave, as I said, but Joe stalled me for a few minutes.” He lifted his face to the ceiling, eyes half shut. “I hadn’t had a full night’s sleep in nearly a week. I was exhausted. Joe wanted me to stay. His wife was away with the kids, and he wasn’t in the mood to go home to an empty house. But I wanted to get home, just crash for the night. I’d gotten up, yes, that’s right. I was standing, telling Joe I’d see him in the morning, when they came back. Passed the bar again. They had to walk right by to get to their table.”

He lowered his face, widened his eyes at Eve. “She wasn’t watching where she was going.”

“No?”

“It was still crowded, and she was looking around again. She shoved at me. Shoved me out of her way as she went by as if she was in a hurry, and she said something rude. Something like, ‘Move your ass.’ I’d forgotten all about that. I’ve been so wrapped up in what happened to Joe, I’d forgotten about that. I walked to the door as they walked to the table. I know I looked back, she’d been so rude—and she … she took something out of her pocket as she sat down. She reached in her pocket.

“She’s the one.” He laid his hand over the face in the photo. “She has to be the one.”

As he spoke, the door opened and Teasdale walked in. She hesitated
as she spotted Callaway, then sent Eve a hard stare. “Lieutenant, I need to speak with you a moment. Privately.”

“We may just have caught a break,” Eve began.

“I prefer not to have this discussion in front of a civilian.”

Eve surged to her feet, stomped out.

“Looks like a power struggle,” Callaway said.

“You could say so.” Peabody looked up from her computer. “While they’re at it, let’s go over those details again.”

18

“I’ve had the parents taken to a safe house. I persuaded them to tell me about a couple incidents in Callaway’s childhood.”

“Feel free to use them,” Eve told her, “if a door opens. But don’t screw up my timing or the rhythm. We’re working him. He thinks he owns the room. I led him to one of the survivors, tailoring her into the source. He took the bait and ran with it.”

“Once you take the bait, you’re hooked. Running becomes problematic.”

“Whatever, he’s adding a lot of details. Too many details.”

“Pride and pleasure cause people to elaborate as much as guilt.”

“I’m going to push him on Jeni Curve next. The conflict between you and me gives him the illusion of power. He’s going to pride and pleasure himself right into a cage. So.” Eve hooked her thumbs in her belt loops. “I think you’re a pushy federal shill wrapped in red tape.”

Teasdale picked a minute piece of lint from her lapel. “I see you as an incompetent, overly aggressive city employee.”

“That should do it.” Eve opened the door. “It’s still my case.”

“Not for long. I beg your pardon, Mr. Callaway, but I have strong objections to involving a civilian in this highly sensitive investigation, particularly one with connections to several of the victims.”

“That connection’s given us CiCi Way, and an angle to push, Agent Teasdale,” Eve reminded her. “You and the HSO are secondary investigators in this matter. You’re basically a consultant yourself until I hear different.”

Deliberately she turned her back on Teasdale, faced Callaway. “I’d like to move on to the second location.”

“I wasn’t there.”

“But you’re familiar with the café, know several of those who were killed or injured. Let’s try the visualization again.”

“For God’s sake,” Teasdale muttered.

“Look, Agent, we might get the same line on Curve with this.”

“Jeni?” Shock registered on Callaway’s face. “You don’t seriously suspect Jeni.”

“I don’t want to influence your memories here. Let’s just focus on yesterday. You stayed in for lunch?”

“Actually, I wanted some air, some head-clearing time, so I went out.”

“Do you remember what time you left the office? The building? If not, we can check logs and discs.”

“I think it was around twelve-fifteen. Near that time. I grabbed a pita—veggie and cheese, and a ginger ale from a cart about a block from the office. I’m not sure he’d remember me. He was busy.”

“Where did you go, what did you see? Take your time,” Eve encouraged. “Try to see it again.”

“I was thinking about Joe. It’s why I wanted the air, and some time to myself—out of the office. Thinking about him, his wife, his kids. I kept remembering how we’d sat at the bar just before … I didn’t want to say anything in front of Nancy, but Joe and I worked together quite a lot on the side. He often needed a little help on projects.”

“He’d come to you?”

“I was glad to help.” Callaway brushed that away, as if it didn’t need mentioning. “As I said, he has kids, and that long commute every day. A wife who, understandably, wanted his attention when he was home. Sometimes he had trouble keeping his head in the game—a spat with the wife, the kids acting up.”

“So he had trouble at home?” Eve asked, all attention.

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that.” But his face clearly did. “But that added pressure, and demands on this time, his attention, so I’d give him some input, another set of eyes, you could say.”

“I’m sure he appreciated it.”

“It wasn’t a big deal,” Callaway said, glancing down in modesty. “I’m sure he’d have done the same for me if I’d needed his help. In any case, I just wanted to walk, so I walked and ate lunch. Nancy’s so emotional right now. She hasn’t been able to get a handle on things. I’m happy to lend a shoulder or take on some extra work, but I needed a break.”

“I understand. Were you ever in sight of the café?”

“I walked by it, on the other side of the street. I actually thought about going over, getting a latte, but I didn’t want to deal with the crowd, the noise. They’re always busy at that hour.”

“Exactly.” Eve shot Teasdale a look. “You’d know that as you’d had lunch there regularly.”

“Everybody at the office had, one time or another. I was just walking,
trying to settle. I’d nearly gone the other way, to the bar, just to … but I couldn’t.”

“You were walking,” Eve prompted.

“Yes.” He stared up at the ceiling. “Just taking the air. It was brisk. Not as cold as today, and it felt good to be out, to be moving. There was so much on my mind. You can’t imagine how many people in the office want to talk about it, ask questions, ask for details.”

“Because you were there, right there.”

“Yes. Something I’ll never forget. Even if I could, people in the office, reporters, and of course, the police, ask questions, bring it all back.”

“Of you especially.” Eve tried to add a note of sympathy. “Steve left early, then Weaver left. But you, you were there almost till it began.”

“Yes. Just minutes before. I … wait, wait. I saw Carly.”

“Carly Fisher?”

“It had to be her, going into the café. The red jacket she wears, with the floral scarf. I caught a glimpse of the jacket and scarf as she went in. I didn’t really register, didn’t really think about it. But now I wonder if that’s another reason I didn’t go in.”

“You didn’t get along?”

“No, not that. Carly was very driven, very focused on advancing her career. She’d often pick my brain for an assignment or project. That was fine.” He waved that away, a man burdened, but accepting the weight. “But I wasn’t in the mood yesterday. In fact, I remember now, seeing her made me decide to go back, just close myself into my office. But I saw her, poor Carly. I must’ve been one of the last people to see her alive.”

“Like Joe.”

“Yes. This is very upsetting. Could I have some water?”

“Absolutely.” Eve rose, got a bottle herself and offered it. “Just take your time, Lew. What did you do next?”

“I might have walked just a little more, then I turned around, and …”

“You saw something.” Eve leaned toward him. “What did you see?”

“Who,” he murmured. “It’s who I saw. I saw Jeni.”

Eve sat back, once again leveled a stare at Teasdale. “You saw Jeni Curve. Where?”

“Across the street, maybe a half a block—less, I think, from the café. But I’m used to seeing her around. I didn’t think about it, didn’t even retain it—or so I thought.”

“What was she doing?”

He closed his eyes, balled his fists. “She was talking to someone. A man. His back’s to me. I don’t see his face. He’s taller than she is. Yes, taller, broader, and wearing a black coat. He—does he give her something? I think yes, yes, she puts what he gives her in her coat pocket.”

“What next? Think!”

“I—I hardly paid attention. He kissed her—lightly, on both cheeks. Like a salute. He walks away, and she walks toward the café. This doesn’t seem real.”

“Did you see him with anyone else?” Eve demanded. “Did you see where he went?”

“I only know he walked in the same direction I was, but across the street, ahead of me. I stopped to look in a shop window, just to stall going back to the office. I didn’t see him again, or Jeni. Or any of them.”

“Lew, I want you to think and think hard. Did you ever see Jeni Curve with CiCi Way?”

She set both of their photos on the conference table. “Do you ever remember seeing these women together?”

“I can’t be sure. I’d see Jeni so often—in the offices when she made deliveries, or in the café when she picked something up. Even around the neighborhood. I can’t be sure if I saw her with this other woman.”

“You can’t link the two of them together,” Teasdale pointed out. “You’ve got Curve walking into the place she worked, and Way at the bar—with friends. You’ve got nothing that ties them to this.”

“We push on Way again. We can take Lew in, let her see him, shake her up. Would you be willing to do that?” Eve asked him.

“Anything I can do to help.”

“Let’s go back to Curve for a minute. You saw her talking to someone just before she went in. You said you’d see her around the neighborhood. Did you ever see her with someone? With this man?”

“I think … I think I may have. I wish I could be sure.”

“What about when she delivered to the office? Did she spend more time with certain people than with others?”

“Well, Steve flirted with her. He told you that himself. And she’d talk to Carly from time to time. They were close to the same age, I suppose.”

“Not with you, particularly.”

“No. She was just the delivery girl.”

“Yeah, just the delivery girl.”

“Do you think that’s why this person—this leader—used her?” Callaway widened his eyes. “She was young, susceptible. No one in particular, if you know what I mean. I imagine manipulating her, and this other woman, this CiCi, would have been easy for someone like him.”

“Like him?”

“As you said.” He turned to Mira. “He’s highly intelligent, organized, charismatic.”

“We could be talking about you,” Eve said.

He laughed, did the same wave away. “That’s flattering, but I don’t think I qualify.”

“That’s just the tip of the profile, isn’t it, Doctor Mira?”

“Yes. I’ve also determined that he’s a loner by nature with sociopathic tendencies. His violence is internal, rigidly suppressed. He uses others to carry out the violence.”

“He doesn’t want to get his hands bloody,” Eve added. “He’s a coward, without the balls to kill face-to-face.”

“I don’t want to tell you your business.” Though his face had gone stony, Callaway spread his hands, all affability. “But it seems to me by staying above the fray, he’s only demonstrating that intelligence. How will you find him if he doesn’t actively participate in the murders, if he keeps himself removed from the actual killings?”

“He’ll make a mistake. They always do. And look at how much more you’ve been able to tell us. We know more about him.”

“You can’t tell a civilian details like that,” Teasdale began.

“Don’t tell me what I can do,” Eve snapped back. “We know his type, his needs. He lives alone. He has no genuine social circle and has never been able to develop or maintain a lasting relationship. He may be, likely is, impotent sexually.”

She tossed that one in, for icing, watched a dull color stain Callaway’s cheeks.

“He works and lives in the area he’s targeted. See, that’s a mistake right there. He should’ve spread out, but he took the easy route, targeting places and people he knew.”

Eve rose now, wandering to the board, thumbs hooked in her front
pockets. “No one particularly likes him, and the ones who pay attention see him as a fake, as a user with an inflated sense of entitlement.”

“You said he was charismatic.”

“That may be an overstatement. He adapts, morphs, blends, but he’s weak on social skills. It’s why he hasn’t climbed as high as he feels he deserves in his career. You know the type I’m talking about, Lew. You work with people like that. Then there’s people like your pal Joe. He had the social skills, and a willingness to go the extra mile, so he was making that climb. Slow, but steady. Or Carly Fisher. Bright, young, ambitious—more fast-tracking her way. But this guy? He’s plateaued. He isn’t moving up, getting the credit or the perks he wants. He’s been brooding about it for a long time.”

“Again, this is your area, but I think you’re underestimating him.”

“He’d think that. But the fact is, he’s intelligent, sure. He’s got a good brain, but he uses it more to manipulate and undermine than to produce. He’s lazy. He didn’t even come up with this plan, this agenda. Somebody else had already done all the hard work, already done it. He’s just coattailing.”

Callaway turned aside, but not before Eve saw his jaw twitch, his mouth thin to a scissor blade. “I’m surprised to hear you describe the person who accomplished this as lazy or weak. I’m not sure how you’d describe yourselves as he’s outwitted you.”