In Death 26 - Strangers in Death

seems to me you and your kids deserved better. And because I don’t like it when a good man is killed for no good reason.”
    Bebe stared for another moment. Then she simply laid her head down on the table and wept.
    “Record off.” Rising, Eve signaled Peabody. As she left the room, she heard Peabody’s voice comforting the sobbing woman.

17
    EVE TAGGED FEENEY ON THE WAY FROM INTERVIEW to her office. “Give me something.”
    “Christ, kid, do you know how much I got piled up here from being out? I got the backlog down from my armpits to my asshole. I’ll get to your box.”
    “Can’t you just open it and see if she reprogrammed or reloaded it before…” She trailed off at his stony stare. He had a good one, she thought. She’d modeled hers after it. “Okay, all right. Just as soon as you can.”
    “If you don’t interrupt me to nag, it’ll be sooner.”
    She clicked off.
    Circumstantial, she reminded herself. Even if Feeney proved that the dispenser had been reprogrammed and/or reloaded, it was circumstantial. She hated building a case on circumstantial. And that’s all she had. Impressions, comments, Bebe’s statement, personalities. And not a single solid piece of evidence.
    Yet.
    She strode back into Homicide, where Baxter turned from the AutoChef. “Dallas. The boyfriend/trannie/cross-dressing angle’s not panning out. Custer case,” he said when she looked blank.
    “Right. Sorry, my mind’s elsewhere. What’s your sense, Baxter?”
    “That the case is as cold as the victim. The kid and I can keep taking pokes at it when we squeeze out some time. I don’t want to put it in Inactive yet. We’re going to have to slap it down to the bottom of the pile, maybe give it a shake every now and then.”
    “Not all of them close.”
    “Yeah. I know. Pisser when they don’t. We closed six others since we caught this one, and it’s still a pisser.”
    She sympathized, but she had her own case to close, and needed to shuffle some of the pieces, try to see a different angle. In her office, she pulled up a couple of the possibles who’d come in below Petrelli on her list. After zeroing in on the next, gauging the time, she detailed a report on the interview with Petrelli, added notes and speculations.
    “Computer, run probability. Given the data, the statements, what is the probability Ava Anders is a big, fat liar?”
    Your question is not properly structured and cannot be answered on a probability scale. Please rephrase.
    “Seemed straightforward to me. Try this. Run probability given the data and statements included in the Anders, Thomas A., homicide that Anders, Ava, has lied to the primary and/or to other individuals who gave an account of conversations with subject.”
    Working…
    Eve rose, programmed coffee. Stared out the window.
    Task complete. Conflicting statements given regarding conversations with subject indicate a 97.3 percent probability Anders, Ava, has given false statements. Probability cannot determine which statements are false and which are factual.
    “I think I can figure that out. Run second probability. Given the data, and assuming the statement just logged by Petrelli, Bebe, is factual, what is the probability that Anders, Ava, arranged, devised, or is involved in the murder of Anders, Thomas A.”
    Working…
    “Yeah, chew on that. Circumstantial, more circumstantial. But probabilities have some weight. Enough weight, somebody sinks. Who else did you set up the way you set up Bebe, Ava? Who else did you have on the line?”
    Task complete. Factoring Petrelli statement as a factual account, the probability is 50.2 percent that Anders, Ava, arranged, devised, or is involved in the murder of Anders, Thomas A.
    “Bollocks to that,” Eve stated, pulling out one of Roarke’s phrases. “Fifty doesn’t add weight. It’s a wash. I need another. I need one of the other fish on the line to flip.”
    “Dallas.” Peabody gave the doorjamb a quick rap. “I arranged transpo for Petrelli. Didn’t want her having to deal with the bus or the subway. She was pretty wrecked.”
    “Fine.” Eve turned, held out a hand, rubbed her fingers and thumb together.
    Peabody shoved her hands in her pockets. “I don’t have twenty on me. Isn’t it enough reward that you got her to spill it on Ava?”
    In answer, Eve simply wiggled the fingers of her outstretched hand.
    “Okay, okay, man.” She snatched up a memo cube from Eve’s desk. “This is going to have to come out of my