“Who was he close to, besides his father, besides you and his sister?”
“Oh, Brice had so many friends. He made them so easily. After, he cut himself off from them, or most of them. He was so angry.”
“A girlfriend?”
She smiled a little. “He had lots of them, too. His father told him: Don’t get serious about a girl. You need to enjoy them—respect but enjoy. You’ve got your education, your career ahead of you. Establish yourself, then think about getting serious with the right girl.
“He always listened to his father.”
“He liked dating,” Taylor said. “Having a looker—and he could get the lookers—to go out with, but never more than a couple times or so with any one of them. I want to say he took things seriously. His grades, his direction.”
“He did.” Ella looked across the room and, as Eve had already noticed, among a grouping of photos was her lost son.
“Lou and I were so proud of him.”
“Maybe someone who wanted to get serious when he didn’t.”
“Brice knew how to play it. Even I could see that.” Taylor shrugged. “He kept it light because that’s how he wanted it. He was careful not to let a girl get stuck on him.”
“Well … Ellie.” When Taylor laughed, Ella shook her head. “She had a major crush on him.”
“I guess, maybe. But he didn’t encourage it.” “Ellie?” Eve heard the ping.
“One of his strays—or it started out that way. He met her when he was buying me a Christmas present. They struck up a conversation. Ella, Ellie.
Lou called me Ellie once in a while, and apparently that was a conversation starter. Brice ended up bringing her home to dinner.”
“A lot,” Taylor added.
“Yes, but in a friendly way. She and your father really hit it off. Sweet girl, and lonely, I think. An only child, as I recall, with no father at home and her mother worked long hours. I guess she was sort of an honorary member of the family for a while.”
“She did hook me up with my first summer job. I appreciated that. But she and Brice were never a thing. I really can’t think of anyone who—”
She broke off when Eve held up her ’link. “Do you recognize this woman?”
“I—yeah. That’s her. That’s Ellie. Right, Mom?” “Yes. Yes, but I don’t understand. I…”
“Do you know her full name?” “Ah…”
“Arnez,” Taylor supplied, and her eyes went cold. “I think it was Elsa or Elva, but Arnez was her last name. I worked part-time that summer with her.” She tapped above her breast where a name tag would be. “Ellie Arnez. Did she do this?”
“She’s a person of interest. When’s the last time you saw or spoke with her?”
“Cal.”
“I’m going to get you some water. Okay, honey. You sit here with Taylor.”
“I could use some, too, Cal. Thanks. She kept in touch for a while,” Taylor continued. “We appreciated that, as most of Brice’s friends stepped back—or he’d broken things off with most of them. It was so ugly.”
“She stuck by Brice over those months. I thought it was a good thing. He had someone to talk to. When he died, she was devastated. It actually helped me to comfort her. Even as time passed, she kept in touch. Came by, or got me on the ’link. We’d talk about Brice, and what she was doing. School, work. She always sent me flowers on Mother’s Day. Except, now that I think about it, this past year.”
“You’d remarried, and you’ve moved out here.”
“Yes. Yes. I haven’t heard from her for months. Almost a year, I think.” “Did she come to your wedding?” Peabody wondered.
“Oh, no. It was the second time around for both Cal and me. We had a small ceremony here, at the house, just family and a few of our closest friends. I didn’t invite her. I wouldn’t have thought to, honestly.”
Eve showed them the photo of Robards. “No, I don’t recognize him. Taylor, do you?”
“No. Ellie and I didn’t click the way she and Brice did, or the way she did with our father. She was older, and she wasn’t interested in sports. I thought it was weird the way she’d come over, sit and talk with my dad like she did even if Brice wasn’t home. I told Brice that, and he said to lay off her. How she had it rough at home. But she always had really nice clothes. She asked Brice to her senior prom.”
“I remember,” Ella murmured. “He took her, of course.”
“And when I said that was weird, he told me she didn’t have any friends, not really. Poor friendless, fatherless girl. I didn’t see it then.”
Her face hard, set, Taylor looked at Eve. “I didn’t see her then. I see her now.
“Dad slipped her money sometimes.” Ella turned to her. “He did?”
“I saw it once, and when I asked him why, Dad said sometimes you just need a little extra. And not to say anything about it to you or Brice. So I didn’t.”
“How did she react when the investigation on Captain Noy came out?”
“Outrage,” Ella said immediately. “God, I’d really forgotten all of this. Thanks, Cal.” Still pale, but steadier, Ella took the water he offered, sipped slowly. “Outrage at whoever turned evidence—we didn’t know—outrage against IAB, and Captain Greenleaf in particular.”
“Did she specifically mention the captain?”
“Yes. Yes. Incessantly. I didn’t want to discuss it with her. I was trying so hard to keep us all afloat and, my God, it was so painful. I didn’t want to discuss it with anyone.”
Ella laid a hand on her husband’s cheek. “I realize now I’ve never really talked to you about all of it. I wanted it behind me, so I put it behind me.”
“It is behind you.”
“I thought it was. But Ellie … She huddled with Brice in those weeks after Lou’s death, and they were outraged together. I should’ve stopped that. I should have. But I was—”
“Shattered, Mom,” Taylor finished. “You were shattered. So was I.” “So were you,” she murmured, then looked at Eve.
“Her reaction after your son’s death?”
“Grief, so much grief to share. She was so young, so crushed.” “She didn’t blame Dad,” Taylor said.
“No, she didn’t blame Lou. It was the people who hadn’t stood by him who were to blame. It was IAB and Captain Greenleaf, and everyone else. She was shattered, too, Lieutenant. Lou was a hero to her, and Brice … You don’t actually believe she could—and after all this time.”
“We’ll talk to her. In the meantime, if she contacts you, please don’t tell her what we discussed here. And contact me.”
“She adored Lou,” Ella said. “So many did.”
Outside, Eve strode straight to the car. “We’ve got to move.”
“You were right. I knew you had to be right after the last briefing, but … You were right.”
“Terrific. Tag Baxter. If they’re still clear, I want them to head to Queens.”
“We could—”
“I know where Queens is, Peabody. We’re going after Arnez. Tell him to shadow Robards until we get the warrants.”
She contacted APA Reo on the dash ’link. “I need warrants.”
Reo blinked her blue eyes and answered in her mild Southern drawl. “I know I’ve got my surprised face around here somewhere. Just let me find it.”
“Fast, Reo.”
“I’ve also got a shocked face in my collection. Is this the Greenleaf case?”
“Elva Arnez, Denzel Robards—upstairs neighbors.” Eve went through it while Peabody briefed Baxter.
“I see where you’re going,” Reo interrupted. “But—”
“I’m not done. We just interviewed Noy’s widow and daughter. They identified Arnez—a tight family friend, a close relationship with Noy and his son in particular. She knew about Greenleaf’s connection, had it in for him specifically at the time Noy and his son went down. But she got really
friendly with Greenleaf and his family over this past year. Never mentioned she knew Noy. Never mentioned it to us during interview.”
Reo held up a hand. “Nine years later, correct? You could say Arnez wanted to move on. Didn’t mention it because oops, neighbors, and finds she likes them. Didn’t mention it to you for obvious reasons.”
“I don’t say that. Do you?”
Reo dragged the hand through her fluffy blond hair. “No. Not when you look at the whole picture.”
“Get me warrants. Murder One, attempted murder, conspiracy to murder. I need search warrants for their apartment, any storage unit in that building or others, her place of employment and his. Toss in his mother’s place. They may have a hidey-hole there.”
Reo’s lips vibrated as she blew out a breath. “And here I thought I might actually leave work on time today. I’ll talk to the boss, talk to a judge. And I’ll see you at Central.”
“Fast,” Eve repeated, and clicked off.
“Baxter and Trueheart are en route to Queens,” Peabody told her. “Good. Now tag Mira, fill her in.” And she tagged Roarke.
His admin, Caro, came on-screen. Her perfect white hair crowned a calm, pleasant face. “Lieutenant. Roarke’s in a meeting and asked me to intercept if you contacted him.”
“Okay. Just let him know I’m bringing them in. He’ll know.” “Of course. Do you want him to contact you?”
“No. I’ll be busy. Thanks.”
Eve considered, then thought: Fuck Lansing. And tagged Nadine.
Camera ready, of course, in a collarless red jacket. “I’m about to break the Greenleaf case. No details, Nadine, so don’t ask. Just be ready.”
“I’m never not.”
“Consider this a gift, because of Lansing.”
She clicked off before Nadine could respond.
“Are you worried about him? Lansing?” Peabody asked her.
“Worried, no; pissed, yes. And I’m going to stay there awhile.”
She hit lights and sirens, hit vertical, and soared over a line of traffic.
Due to praying and holding her breath at the same time, Peabody didn’t speak again until they reached Manhattan.
“I’m not sure a copter would’ve been much faster. Baxter and Trueheart are on the garage. Robards is there.”
“They hold for the warrant.” She cut the lights and siren. “And that better be it,” she added as her in-dash signaled incoming.
“It is. Reo comes through.”
“Send the Robards arrest warrant to Baxter, tell them to pick him up. I need search teams on the garage, on his mother’s place. Have Uniform Carmichael set that up.”
“Their apartment?”
“Have uniforms meet us at her dress shop. They can take her in after we bust her. We’ll take the apartment. That’ll give her some time to sit in holding, stew over it.”
“She’ll lawyer up.”
“Yeah. That doesn’t worry me.” Because she had that essential piece now. She had the why.
She didn’t bother to hunt up parking, just doubled it in front of the shop.
Fancy shop, Eve thought, pure white stone, sparkling glass. Behind the glass the fake people posed in fall clothes, deep, burnished colors, tall, glossy boots, thigh-length swing jackets.
Why did people want to buy sweaters in August?
The door gave a light, musical trill when she opened it. Inside, the air was cool and smelled like freshly peeled oranges.
Artistically arranged displays showcased the burnished, the glossy, the sparkling, and the smooth.
A stick-thin redhead in sleek black stood beside a woman in a floral summer dress. They discussed a tiny, shiny purse shaped like a heart.
“Just the perfect size to hold the essentials,” the redhead said. “A stunning accent with a cocktail dress or a formal gown. And, of course, the classic Delago safety clasp and signature red silk lining.”
She glanced over at Eve and Peabody, sized them up. Her greeting smile pumped up a few degrees. “Ladies. I’ll be right with you.”
“Put this behind the counter for me.” The customer passed the purse to the clerk. “I want to browse a bit more.”
“Take your time. Good afternoon,” she said to Eve. “I adore your boots.
Carlotta’s, aren’t they?”
“No, they’re my boots.” Because she didn’t want to alert Arnez, she didn’t pull out her badge. “We need to speak with the manager. Ms. Arnez.”
“Oh, is there a problem?” “Yeah, there is. Arnez.”
“Yes, of course, she’s in the dressing area with a client. I’ll get her.” She turned, saw her customer—ears obviously pricked—holding up a midnight- blue dress, its three-inch gap between bodice and skirt connected by slim, vertical silver bars.
“Should I start a dressing room for you, Ms. Adolfo?”
“Yes, do that.” She handed over the dress. “I’ll browse a bit more first.”
To see what’s going on, Eve thought as the clerk walked to the dressing area. Well, hang on, sister, you’re about to get a show.
“Ms. Arnez will be right with you,” the redhead informed Eve. “I have dressing room two for you, Ms. Adolfo. Should I put that in for you?”
“Mmm.” Adolfo passed over a burnt orange velvet tunic, then wandered to a display of shoes.
Arnez strode out on sky-high silver sandals paired with a white, body- skimming dress. “Oh, Lieutenant Dallas. I’m terribly sorry, but I’m with a client. If you wouldn’t mind waiting a few more minutes—”
“Actually, I do. Elva Arnez, you’re under arrest—” The shoes the browser held thumped to the floor. “What! That’s crazy!”
“Charges include murder in the first degree, attempted murder, felony assault, conspiracy to murder. Peabody?”
“You have the right to remain silent,” Peabody began as Eve walked over, pulled Arnez’s hands behind her back and, after the quick, expected struggle, cuffed her.
“Do you understand your rights and obligations?” Peabody asked her. “I don’t understand any of this! Murder! I haven’t killed anyone.”
“My partner can read off the Revised Miranda again, very slowly, until you understand.”
The look she shot Eve was pure venom. “I understand my rights. I understand this is ludicrous. I want my lawyer.”
“You can contact him or her once you get to Central. Good timing,” she added as two female uniforms came in.
“Peabody, collect any personal items Ms. Arnez has on premises, bag them for these officers to transport. Put her in the patrol car and wait,” she told the officers. “Then escort this individual and her personal items to Central. Book her on all warranted charges. Allow her to contact her attorney or legal representative.”
Mortification flushed Arnez’s face. Fury burned through her eyes as the uniforms perp-walked her to the door.
“You’re going to pay for this.” She hurled the words at Eve. “Believe me.”
“If I had a dollar for every time I heard that one, I could probably buy that silly heart purse.”
“A Delago evening bag can go for twenty large,” Peabody told her.
“Get out.” Eve just shook her head as the uniforms took Arnez out. “I could buy it with my you’re-going-to-pay-for-this dollars, but why would I? It would barely hold my badge.”
Which she held up now to make things clear to the clerk, whose mouth still hung open, and the customer, who watched with avid eyes.
“Does she have a purse, a handbag, a briefcase?”
The redhead blinked. “A—a handbag, in the back.” “Let’s go get that,” Peabody said.
The customer studied Eve. “That was fascinating. My first arrest.
Obviously not yours.”
“No. Are you seriously going to drop twenty K on a bag you can’t even fit your ’link in?”
“I have a mini for that. And a weakness for Delago bags.”
Peabody came out with a handbag that could swallow a couple hundred of the Delagos.
“What should I do?” the clerk asked Eve. “What do I do now?” “I’d find another manager.”
On the sidewalk, Eve watched the cruiser drive away.
“That was satisfying. See if McNab can bounce over and take the e’s.
Unless Feeney wants to do it himself. Let’s go toss the apartment.”
She ignored the blast of horns, the fists shaken in her direction, the creative curses that followed.
“Feeney wants it.” “Thought he might.”
She took a loading zone near the apartment building.
“I can’t believe they’d keep the ’links—Ben Greenleaf’s and his daughter’s.”
Eve shrugged as she mastered in. “Maybe. Maybe not. But she never figured we’d connect her with Noy and, without that, no motive. The length of rope they used came from a longer length. You could see it had been cut to size. We find that, lab matches it, there’s the attempted. We don’t need the ’links.”
They walked up the stairs, mastered in. Sealed up.
“Dallas, Lieutenant Eve, Peabody, Detective Delia,” she said for the record, “entering the residence of Arnez, Elva, and Robards, Denzel, for a warranted search and seize.”
Different flowers, Eve noted. Fresh and different than the ones days before.
“See if there’s a utility closet in the kitchen area. That’s the most likely place to keep rope. I’ll start in the bedroom.”
Eve walked back.
Big bed, padded headboard in deep blue, light spread in a pale tone. And the requisite mountain of pillows.
She took the closet first.
Her clothes. All hers. Where did he keep his? Eve wondered.
Hers filled every inch of it, with a section designated for shoes and bags.
Plenty of them.
A couple of tiny shinies among the big-ass bags, Eve noted. She wondered if Arnez had scored herself a Delago at her employee (former now) discount.
But her attention focused on a large box that sat on the shelf above the long rod. A fabric-covered box, with a pattern of tiny pink and red hearts.
Reaching up, she lifted it down—had some weight to it. She carted it out of the closet and set it on the bed. No lock, she noted, but then again, her closet. Her space.
She opened it, sighed.
“Too easy,” she murmured. “Almost not satisfying. Almost.”
“Got the rope!” Peabody came in with a neatly coiled length of rope in her sealed hands. “It’s the same rope, Dallas. A fresh cut on one end. It was just there in the closet.”
“So were these. In her closet. Just her closet. He must have another space for his.” Eve lifted out some photos. “Somebody hasn’t moved on.”
“That’s Arnez with Brice Noy. Holy crap, lots of pictures. Her with the Noy family, with Noy, senior prom with Brice. Mag dress!”
“Yeah, that’s important. Everything’s in sections. Brice or her and Brice in this one, family in this one, Greenleaf—you can see some were taken from the window. Fucking shots of the fire escape, the window lock.”
“It’s all right here. A section for mementos. That looks like a wrist corsage—like the one she’s wearing in the prom photo. She preserved it. An old ’link.”
“What do you bet there are old texts and tags on it—from Brice, to Brice?”
“I’d bet a Delago evening bag if I had one. Jesus, Dallas, we’ve got her cold.”
“Not quite cold, but close. That should be Feeney.”
While Peabody went to answer, Eve tried the ’link. Passcoded, but it had batt life. So charged up recently.
She turned when Feeney walked in. “How old is this model?” “Let’s see.” He frowned over it. “Ten, maybe twelve years.”
“Just right. I need to get what’s on it. Her ’link’ll be in Evidence, so will Robards’s. There’s a small room off the living space. Office setup. Comp. I’ll let you know if we find any more e’s.”
Feeney looked down at the photos. “She was pretty tight with Noy and his family.”
“Yeah, she was.”
“They took Greenleaf out for doing his job. He died in the line, Dallas.” “Yes, he did. And they’re going to pay for it. Peabody, find Robards’s
stuff. He probably uses the closet in the office. I’ll finish in here.” Eve fisted her hands on her hips, looked around.
“You’re not half as smart as you think you are, Elva. Let’s see what else you have tucked away.”
While Eve searched, Peabody hustled back. “Look at this!”
She held two evidence bags, each with a ’link. One matched the description of Ben’s daughter’s.
The stupidity of killers rarely surprised. This made the cut. “Jesus Christ, they kept them.”
“He did, anyway. Disabled them, so no way to track. He’s not an e-guy really, but handy. I bet he figured he could use them for parts, or wipe them and enable. Dallas, he’s got framed pictures on a shelf in his closet. It’s kind of sad, really, he had to keep them there. Photos of his family, of him at work with coworkers, of him and Arnez.”
Peabody stepped to the bed. “Hey, that’s her prom dress.” “Tell me if she’d keep a dress like this for ten years.”
“It’s a great dress—but for a teenager. Everything she wears and has is now. She’d never wear this anywhere.”
“She also kept the jewelry she’s wearing in the photo. Have a look. Is she going to wear these earrings, this necklace now?”
“They’re sweet and, no, she doesn’t wear the sweet. Where were they?” “Dresser’s got a jewelry drawer. These had their own compartment. Bag
it up, will you? We’ve got Robards cold enough, but I’m pretty sure he’d take the fall for her, and she’d let him. To get her? We use Brice Noy. Let’s go get her.”
She took two tablets in to Feeney. “Anything?” she asked him.
“You wanted old texts and tags, I got ’em. Plenty of them, ranging from nine to eleven years. Haven’t read them all—like I said, plenty. But I did a quick search using Greenleaf. I got a couple winners.”
He handed her the ’link. From Brice to Arnez:
The sonofabitch Greenleaf might as well have put that stunner to my dad’s throat. He killed him, Ellie. He fucking killed him.
Arnez to Brice:
He’ll pay for it. We’ll make him pay, I swear. No matter what, no matter how long it takes. Then his family will know how it feels.
“There’s more, but you should see this one before you get her in the box.
I checked the dates—this is the night the kid hanged himself.
I went to see that bastard Greenleaf. They took my spot at the Academy away. I went to beg him to fix it. Begged him. All I
ever wanted was to be a cop like my dad. I need to be a cop, need to clear his name. I’ve done everything right, and he said he couldn’t do anything about it. How it wasn’t up to him. How I should finish school, reapply. How he’d put in a good word for me when I did. Fucking liar. Everything’s ruined, everything. I’ve got nothing now.
You’ve got me. Always, always. He won’t get away with it. And we’ll clear your dad’s name, Brice. We will! That bastard Greenleaf ruined everything, and we’ll ruin him. We’ll make him sorry. Make them all sorry. I love you.
I have to go. I’m tired. I’m just so goddamn tired.
I’m here for you. I’ll always be here for you.
But Brice didn’t respond.
She looked from the ’link screen to Feeney. “Take her down,” he said.
They hauled what they’d found to the car.
“Check in with the search teams, Peabody. If either of them are done, pull them here to cover what we didn’t. We’ve got enough. Anything else is icing.”
“This festered in her all this time,” Peabody said as she texted. “Festered so she found someone she knew she could dominate and manipulate like Robards. Until she could get a place in the same building as her target. Festered while she planned this all out, made friends with them.
“The team on the dress shop’s finished. They’ll move to the apartment.” “Didn’t they used to—when a wound festered, didn’t they cauterize it?
We’re going to burn her ass, Peabody.”
“That poor kid,” Peabody murmured. “Brice Noy. He needed help. She made it worse. She didn’t mean to, but she did. The spot at the Academy? Greenleaf couldn’t have done anything about that, either way.”
“No.”
“She didn’t even address that, no real comfort or sympathy for him over losing his spot. All she could talk about was payback.”
“Because that’s all that mattered to her,” Eve said as she pulled into the garage. “It’s what mattered then, it’s what mattered now.”
On the glides at Central she texted Reo.
My office, asap.
On the way. She’s lawyered; he hasn’t.
She’s going to need a damn good one.
“We take him first, Peabody. Get him into Interview, and I’ll brief Reo. And let Mira know. And Whitney. Captain Greenleaf died in the line. He’ll want to be there.”
She went straight into her office because the anger was too huge, and needed to be tamped down and rechanneled.
She got coffee more from habit than need, drank it while pacing off the rage.
Reo, in her bold red suit, walked in. “Sit,” Eve told her.
“I want your coffee.”
“Sit,” Eve repeated. “I’ll get the coffee.” She nodded at the boxes on her desk. “I’m going to unseal those so you can have a look, and I’m going to run it for you.”
Reo sat, drank her coffee, listened, looked. “In possession of the rope.”
“It’s on its way to the lab, but it’s going to match.” “And the two ’links. From his closet, you said.” “That’s right.”
“He’s done. I can make a deal with him—life on-planet—if he rolls on her.”
“He won’t. What he’s going to do is claim it’s all him.” “And expect us to buy that with all you have?”
“He won’t flip on her. I can and will trip him up on details, but he won’t flip. No point in a deal, Reo, for either of them.”
“I wasn’t intending to offer her one,” Reo said. “Nail her down, Dallas. Nail her down, and we’ll put them both away. The PA’s office has a very dim view of cop killers.”
“He’s in Interview B,” Peabody said when she came to the door. “He’s been crying. It shows.”
“Good. Two minutes.”
