Indulgence In Death Part 14

"I watch nature shows on-screen sometimes to further my education."

"Because you never know when we're going to have to track a lion through Midtown." She ordered the top down, and Peabody executed a quick seat wiggle.

"I f you're finished with your vehicular o.r.g.a.s.ms see if you can make any connections between Dudley and Intelicore." Eve activated the GPS on her wrist unit, read in Urich's address.

"We are so freaking high-tech!"

"I 'm just seeing if it works." She shot out of the lot. Peabody let out a joyous, "Whee!"

"There's just not enough wind."

"You're going 'Whee,' too. Inside."

Maybe, Eve thought.

"I f the killer isn't Urich-and nothing's that easy-then he has to look enough like him, or have made himself look enough like him to fool the vic.

He could change his hair, add weight, take it off, do some face work, but there should be at least a surface resemblance. The killer's probably Caucasian or looks it, likely in the neighborhood of five ten and a hundred seventy like Urich. Unless he's just randomly hacking IDs for his kills, we'll find a connection between Sweet and Urich."

"He's picking the top in their field for his victims," Peabody said as she worked. "Sweet and Urich both work for important companies, and have important positions in them."

"I t's more," Eve said with a shake of her head. "When you think of the top companies, the wealthiest corporations, the biggest businesses, what comes to mind first?"

"Roarke."

"Yeah, but this guy's taken out two without crossing into Roarke's businesses."

"The amus.e.m.e.nt park."

"Yeah, which Roarke has a piece of, and a part in. But it's hard to pick a company without b.u.mping into one of Roarke's, and the killer didn't go there for his cover either time. There's going to be a connection between the men and/or their companies. I t's not random. Neither are the vics.

They're not personal, but they're specific. We'll run a search to see if there's any connection between Houston and Crampton, but it's going to be the men, the companies, not the victims."

"I don't find anything on this first round. None of the subsidiaries are connected or even in direct compet.i.tion. They do have offices in some of the same cities, but that's a stretch. They do each have long-running charitable foundations, but again, they veer off into different areas of interest and support."

"I t's in there somewhere," Eve noted.

Peabody put her head back, closed her eyes. "Maybe employees who crossed over, or interbusiness marriages, relations. So the killer has at least some data on both."

"Possible."

"Or somebody who knows and has a hard-on against Sweet and Urich."

"A lot of trouble to go to, and pretty f.u.c.king extreme to take a punch at somebody. But we'll be looking for connections between Sweet and Urich.

The methods aren't random either. They're planned well in advance, so they're deliberate. A bid for attention. He's showing off. Send an alert to Mira's office," she said referring to the department's top profiler and shrink. "I want a consult tomorrow. Send her the files so she can take a look."

When she pulled up in front of the dignified old brownstone, she smiled at her wrist unit. "b.a.s.t.a.r.d really works."

She got out of the car, took a moment to study the townhouse, the neighborhood. "Nice spot. Quiet, established, monied but not flashy. Urich was married once and did it in a twelve-year stretch. He's worked for the same company for close to twenty years. He sticks. Got a little garden going here that looks all tidy and organized. Everything all nice and settled."

She pa.s.sed through the short wrought-iron gate, to the walkway between a small, structured front garden, and up the stairs to the main door.

"Locks down at night." She nodded toward the steady red light on the security pad before pressing the buzzer.

This residence is protected by Secure One, the computer informed her. The occupant does not accept solicitations. Please state your name and your business.

"Lieutenant Dallas and Detective Peabody." Eve held up her badge for the scanner. "NYPSD. We need to speak with Foster Urich."

Your information w ill be relayed. Please w ait.

Good security, Eve thought, but Urich kept it simple and straightforward.

I t took several minutes, but the security light switched to green, and the door opened.

Urich stood in loose pants and T-shirt, his feet bare. His hair looked sleep tumbled and curled around a sharp-featured face. Fear lived in hiseyes.

"Has something happened to Marilee? My daughter. Is my daughter-"

"We're not here about your daughter, Mr. Urich."

"She's okay? Her mother-"

"We're not here about your family."

He closed his eyes a moment, and when he opened them the fear died. "My daughter's at camp. I t's her first time." He let out a breath. "What's this about? Jesus, it's after three in the morning."

"We're sorry to disturb you at this hour, but we need to ask you some questions. Can we come in?"

"I t's the middle of the night. I f I 'm going to let you in, I want to know what this is about."

"We're investigating a homicide. Your name came up."

"My-a murder? Who's dead?"

"Ava Crampton."

His face creased in puzzlement. "I don't know anybody by that name. All right, come in. Let's get this cleared up."

The long entrance hall opened on the side to a living area with deep colors, oversized seating, a wide wall screen. On the table in front of a long high-backed couch sat two winegla.s.ses and a bottle of red. A pair of high-heeled sandals sat under the table.

"Who's Ava Crampton, and how did my name come up?"

"Are you alone, Mr. Urich?"

"I don't see that's any of your business."

"I f you've had company this evening, it may clear up some questions."

He was blushing, Eve noted.

"I 'm with a friend. I don't like being interrogated about my personal life."

"I don't blame you, but Ava Crampton lost her personal life."

"I 'm sorry about that, but it has nothing to do with me. And I 'd really like to know why you think it does."

"Elegant Transportation took Ms. Crampton to Coney Island tonight."

He looked both irritated and baffled. "Lieutenant Dallas, if you're questioning everyone who routinely uses Elegant Transpo, you're in for a really long night."

"The reservation for the limo was in your name, and secured with your credit card."

"That's ridiculous. Why would I order a limo for a woman I don't even know?"

"That's a question," Eve said.

I rritation increased enough to smother the bafflement. "When was it booked?" He snapped out the question. "What card was supposedly used?"

When Eve told him, he took a moment before speaking. "That's my company card. I use that transpo service routinely for both business and personal, but I know neither I nor my admin reserved transportation for tonight."

"Let's get this part out of the way. Where were you between ten P.M. and one A.M.?"

"Foster?"

The pretty woman wore a man's robe miles too big for her. Her short, bark-colored hair fell to her jaw. Like Urich, she hadn't thought to comb it.

"I 'm sorry. I got worried."

"I t's all right, Julia. I t's just some sort of mix-up. Julia and I spent the evening together." His color came up again. "I , ah, picked her up about seven- forty-five. We had an eight o'clock at Paulo's. Then we, ah, came back here. I don't remember the time."

"I t was a little after ten," Julia supplied. "We've been in since. What's happened?"

He walked to her, ran a hand down her arm. "Someone's been killed."

"Oh, no! Who?"

"I don't know her, but there's some confusion about the use of my company card. I need to straighten it out. I can't think straight," he added. "I 'm going to make some coffee."

"I 'll do it. No, I 'll do it, Foster. You sit down. Would you like coffee?" she said to Eve and Peabody.

"That'd be great," Eve answered.

"Foster, sit down with the police. I 'll just be a minute."

"Sorry," he said when Julia went out. "Sit down. This has just thrown me off. I don't know how my company account could've been used. We change the code every couple of weeks."

Eve took the ID photo out of her bag. "Do you recognize her?"

He took a good look at the picture, then scooped back his untidy hair and took another, longer study before he shook his head. "No. And I don't think that's a face I 'd forget. She's beautiful. Coney Island, you said," he added when he handed the photo back.

"Yes. You've been there."

He smiled. "I 've taken my daughter there several times since it reopened. She's going to be nine next month. I 'm divorced," he said quickly. "Her mother and I have been divorced for several months."

"Understood. Do you know an Augustus Sweet?"

"I don't think so. I t's not a familiar name. I meet a lot of people, Officer-"

"Lieutenant."

"Sorry, yes, Lieutenant Dallas. In my work ... You already know what I do, where I work. You'd have checked."

"Yes. Who'd have access to your account information?"

"My admin. Della McLaughlin. She's worked with me for over fifteen years. She wouldn't be involved in this. Her a.s.sistant, Christian Gavin, would also have the information, but I have to say the same. He's been with us nearly eight years. Julia." He smiled again when she came back with a tray, and rose to take it. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." She stood as he set down the tray. "Should I go?"

"No, please. Lieutenant, I need to go put a block on that account, and initiate a search for use. I may be able to tell you who used it once I do."

"Go ahead."

He grabbed coffee, dumped creamer into it. "I 'll only be a couple minutes."

Julia sat, tugged on her robe. "This is strange and ... just strange."

"Can I ask how long you and Mr. Urich have been involved?"

"Involved? I guess about a month, but we've known each other for three years. Since our daughters became friends. They're at camp together.Kelsey's father and I divorced several years ago. Since Foster and Gemma divorced, Foster and I ... Well, we spent some time together with the girls, playdates and parks and that kind of thing. And we'd talk. He needed someone to talk to who'd been there. Then ... it sort of evolved. This is actually the first time we've ... Anyway, I don't suppose any of that's relevant."

You'd be surprised, Eve thought.

"Difficult divorce for Mr. Urich?" Peabody asked, picking up the theme.

"They're all difficult. But it was civilized. They both love their daughter very much. Gemma just wanted something else. I think that's what was hardest for Foster to understand. I t wasn't any one thing. She just didn't want what they had."

"Is she involved with someone else?"

"I don't think so. That's part of the something else. She just didn't want a relationship. Not now anyway. She didn't leave for someone else, if that's what you mean. She's a very decent person."

Urich came back, stood on the other side of the coffee table. "I t's my code. Whoever reserved the transportation knew my code, my pa.s.sword. I don't know how that could be. I 've ordered a sweep and sniff, to confirm we were hacked. I t's the only explanation I have."

"Can you think of anyone who'd want to cause you trouble?" Eve asked. "Want the cops at your door at three in the morning?"