In Death 22 - Memory in Death

from Sixth Avenue to Tenth, between … Thirty-eighth and Forty-eighth.
    Working…
    Pushing up, she checked the time. Banks were closed for the day. But Trudy would have had just
    enough time to get to one, get herself a sackful of credits.
    Check that out tomorrow. “Print out data,” Eve ordered when the computer began to recite a list of banks. “Copy to file, copy to my home computer.”
    Acknowledged. Working …
    She could see it. She’d have to find the bank, verify, but she could see it. Closest one to the boutique, that’s the one it would be. Stride in, still steaming. Used cash if she was thinking, Eve decided. No point in having a transaction like that popping on a credit or debit report, so you use cash. And you dispose of the bank bag before you go back to the hotel.
    Alone, she thought again.
    Comes to the station alone, then to Roarke’s office. No sign anyone’s waiting for her in the lobby.
    Makes a call maybe, uses her ‘link once she’s outside the building. No way to check that when the ‘link’s gone. Smart to take the ‘link from the murder scene.
    She paced, ordered more coffee.
    Scared when she leaves Roarke. Contacts her pal, her cohort. Cries the blues. Could’ve cooked up the next part together.
    She turned to her murder board, studied the photos of Trudy’s face.
    “What does it take to do that to yourself?” Eve muttered. “Plenty of motivation. Plenty of anger. But
    how the hell did you expect to prove you got tuned up by me or Roarke, or somebody we sicced on you?”
    Back to stupid, she thought with a shake of her head. That was leading with anger, that was impulse
    and fury. Smarter to have gotten one or both of us out of the house on some pretext, somewhere we wouldn’t be easily alibied. Stupid to assume we wouldn’t have one. Sloppy.
    A memory nudged at her, nearly faded once more. Eve closed her eyes, pressed and focused.
    Dark. Can’t sleep. Too hungry. But the door of her room was locked from the outside. Trudy didn’t like her to wander around the house sneaking around, getting into trouble.
    She was being punished anyway.
    She’d talked to the boy across the street, a couple of his friends. Older boys. Taken a ride on one of
    their boards. Trudy didn’t like the boy across the street, or his friends.
    Hoodlums. Delinquents. Vandals. And worse. And you, nothing but a slut. Nine years old and already putting out. That’s nothing new for you, is it? Get upstairs, and you can forget about supper.I don’t
    feed trash in my house.
    Shouldn’t have talked to the boy. But he’d said he’d show her how to use the board, and she’d never ridden one before. They could do tricks on theirsloops and wheelies and spins. She liked to watch them. The boy had seen her watching, and grinned at her. Motioned her over.
    Shouldn’t have gonehell to pay. But he’d held that colorful board out, said she could take a breeze. He’d show her how.
    And when she’d shot off on it, he’d whistled through his teeth. His friends had laughed. He’d said she
    had balls.
    It wasshe thought it wasthe happiest, most liberating moment of her life at that time. She could remember, even now, the odd way the smile had fit on her face. The way her cheeks had stretched out, and the laugh that had rumbled up in her throat and hurt her chest a little. But a good hurt, like nothing she’d ever experienced.
    He’d said she could go again, that she was a natural.
    But Trudy had come out, came streaming out with that look on her face. That hell-to-pay look. She had yelled, screamed at Eve to get off that damn thing.
    Didn’t I tell you to stay in the yard. Didn’t I say? Who gets the blame if you breaks your fool neck?
    You ever think of that?
    She hadn’t. Had only thought of the thrill of riding the board for the first time.
    Trudy had screamed at the boys, too, told them she’d call the police. She knew what they were up to. Perverts, hoodlums. But they’d just laughed and made rude noises. The one whose board she’d ridden had called Trudy an old bitch, right to her face.
    Eve had thought it was the bravest thing she’d ever seen.
    He’d given Eve a quick grin, a quick wink, and told her she could have another ride whenever she shook the old bitch loose.
    But she’d never ridden it again. She’d stayed away from him, and his friends.
    And she’d paid for the momentary thrill with an empty gut.
    Later, with stomach growling, she had stood at the window of her room. And