In Death 23 - Born in Death

bad guys to us, they’d still have it going.”
    But she was heavy with that pity as she pushed out of the booth.
    “Go back,” she said to McNab. “Keep going back. Seems to me if someone had contacted her via ’link on this thing, she’d have kept a record of the transmission. She thought she was setting up a case. Accountants, they’re all about columns and balancing things out, keeping records. If there was electronic contact, she’s got it somewhere.”
    Or had it, Eve thought as she gratefully headed out of Club EDD. She’d have told her killer anything he wanted to know before he was done with her.
    Eve hit the lab on her way home. Her goal was to pin down Dick Berenski, chief lab tech, into passing on whatever they had to this point. But as she moved through the tunnels and glass-walled labs and cubes, she spotted Harvo, a tech she’d worked with before.
    Harvo’s short, spiked red hair was covered with a protective cap painted, Eve noted, with naked men. “Nice hat.”
    “Fun where you find it.” Harvo snapped gum the color of healthy lungs. “You looking for Dickhead, he’s gone. Got leave, a few days south—probably half-juiced by now and hitting on some unfortunate woman who just wants to drink her piña colada in peace.”
    “Who’s running the asylum?”
    “Yon’s got this tour, but he’s in the field. Pulled up a floater from the East River. Being that’s his favorite variety, he went out to the scene. You want, I can run you through what we’ve got on your double murder.”
    “Appreciate it.”
    “Live to serve.”
    Instead of taking Eve to Berenski’s domain, Harvo wound her way through the maze to her own workstation. “You looking to do field work, Harvo?”
    “Nah. I like my hive.” She boosted onto her stool, hooked her thick-soled, high-topped black and green sneakers on the rung. “And the whole dead body thing isn’t big on my list of appeals. I just cruise onthe evidence, you know?” Wiggling her butt on the stool, she played her long, varnished nails over a keyboard.
    “I didn’t process your tape. Tech who did just left for the day. Prob’ly shot you the report before, but since you’re here…”
    “Since I’m here.”
    “Tape on both murders came from the same roll. See here? You got your end from female vic’s ankles, dead match with the end from the male vic’s hands. Took hours to straighten those suckers out, but you got your match. Garden variety duct tape.”
    “Don’t suppose we got a miracle and found prints.”
    “Not a one. Some DNA though. None on the female DB, nothing under her nails. Prints on the scene—murder one—vic’s, second vic, sister of first vic. Blood spatter, all vic’s. She didn’t do any damage. But your male DB got some licks in.”
    “You got DNA from scene two.”
    “Not all the blood at the second scene was your vic’s. Got nice samples off the second vic’s knuckles. He popped the bastard. You get him, we can match him. Prints up the waz, second scene.”
    “Doing reno there.”
    “Yeah, we got that. You got plenty there to clear. We’ll run them for you, give you names and locations. Nothing on the body, as per your first. But what we got on your male vic was blood and saliva—not his. Cord used to strangle second vic was cut from binding on scene.”
    “Took his fun where he found it, too.”
    “You could say. Here’s a little something. Outside locks on female’s building were complete shit. Broke ’em in with a smooth, round object. Little hammer maybe. Whack, whack, you’re in. Better locks upstairs. Used locksmith tools on those.”
    She’d seen that for herself, but Eve nodded. “Came prepared. Knew about the fresh lock.”
    “So, anyways, we’ll get your ID on the prints, second scene, so you can run ’em.”
    “Appreciate it.”
    Kept an eye on her, Eve thought as she battled her way home through the cranky wall of traffic. Bribed her first—probably going to kill her anyway. Copperfield thought the bribe bought her time, but it bought her killer time, too. Planning and prep time.
    Something hot enough to kill for twice was too hot to take chances with a payoff.
    Back to the accounting firm—just had to be. She needed those damn files. Using the dash ’link, she contacted Assistant Prosecuting Attorney Cher Reo.
    “I’m on my way out,” Reo said. “I have an actual date. Don’t screw with me.”
    “I have two bodies in the morgue. I want my warrant. Don’t screw with