In Death 23 - Born in Death

the data, analyze it in a way I can’t.”
    “And I will. But tonight I’d prefer the generalities. I can take a look at her client list, give you a take on what I know that might not show on records or bios.”
    “Why tonight?”
    He considered again. Easier to evade, but she’d been straight with him and deserved the same. “I’m going to have my lawyers draft a contract of sorts which will prohibit me from using any of the data I may be privy to during the course of this investigation.”
    “No.”
    “It covers our respective asses. It will also prohibit you, or any member of the team, from revealing the name of the organization, corporation or company whose data I analyze. I can, quite easily, work with the figures only.”
    Frustration nearly blew out of the top of her head. “This is a crock. Your word’s good enough.”
    “For you, and thank you for it. But it’s simple enough to do, and it’s logical. It’s very likely I’m in competition, or certainly will be at some point, with some or all of the clients on your victims’ list. And at some point, while I can promise you I wouldn’t use the data you’ve put in my hands—”
    “I don’t want your damn promise!” she exploded.
    Her fury over it was like a warm, comforting kiss. “Then none of that between us. But, let’s be practical. It could appear, or be argued that I have or will use it. It still could, come to that, but this shows good intent at least.”
    “It’s insulting to you.”
    “Not if I offer it—more, insist on it. Which is exactly what I’m doing.” He knew how to calculate the odds, he thought. How to manipulate them. And how to win. “I won’t look at any of the data unless you agree to this provision. We can argue about it if you like, but that’s my line. I’ll have it taken care of, then we’ll move forward.”
    “Fine. Fine. If that’s the way you want it.” She had to fight back the urge to kick something again.
    “It is. I’m happy to look at the client list.”
    She moved to her desk, pulled out a hard copy from her file bag. “Look it over, think it over. I’ve got some runs to do meanwhile.”
    And some sulking, he imagined. “I’ll be in my office, then.”
    She did sulk, but she worked while she was at it.
    She did probabilities and was satisfied that the computer agreed—at 93.4 percent—that someone inside the firm was connected to the double murder.
    She studied her notes, Peabody’s reports, the lab’s, the ME’s, the crime-scene records. And put up a second murder board.
    New lock on the door, she reminded herself. Kitchen knife in the bedroom. But Natalie hadn’t been afraid enough to bunk with her boyfriend, or hole up in a hotel. Not afraid enough to tell her sister not to come and stay with her.
    “Knew the killer,” Eve said aloud. “Or the go-between. Nervous, excited, cautious, but not seriously afraid for her life. Knife in the bedroom. Girl thing.”
    She paced in front of the board as she thought. Any serious attacker could probably have disarmed a woman of Copperfield’s build. But she’s alone, starts wigging just a little. Takes the knife like she could use it if she had to.
    “Not a stupid woman, but seriously naive,” Eve added. “Gonna handle this deal herself, with her guy. A little excitement in their lives. But who else did she tell?”
    When her ’link beeped, she turned, answered it absently. “Dallas.”
    “Hey, I know it’s late but I got this brainstorm.” Peabody’s brows drew together on the display screen. “Are you still working?”
    “Who did she tell?”
    “Who, what?”
    Obviously, Eve thought as she pulled her mind away from the murder board, Peabody wasn’t still working. “What brainstorm?”
    “About the shower?”
    “Oh, Christ on a plastic crutch.”
    “Look, it’s the day after tomorrow.”
    “No, it’s not. It’s on Saturday.”
    “And tomorrow being Friday, Saturday follows. At least in my pretty little world.”
    “Damn it, damn it, damn it.”
    “So anyway, I’ve got the theme going, and picked up some stuff on my way home. I thought if I came by there tomorrow night, stayed over, we could put it all together in the morning.”
    “What does that mean, putting it all together?”
    “Well, the decorations, and these flower things I ordered, and, well…stuff. Plus I got this idea about the rocker system you bought her and how we can use it as a focal point, but disguise it like a throne