Thankless in Death

you’re under arrest for murder, multiple counts, for kidnapping, for identity fraud, breaking and entering and all sorts of additional charges. You have the right to remain silent,” she began, and with Peabody’s help managed to get him to his feet.
    He kept letting his legs buckle, so by the time she’d finished readinghim the Revised Miranda, she’d had enough. “Officer Carmichael. Take this asshole into custody. Put him in top-level holding at Central until I say different.”
    “You’ve got it, Lieutenant.”
    “And somebody call the medics and a bus for that poor bastard.”
    “Already done.” Detective Carmichael tapped her comm. “On their way.”
    Harnessing her weapon, Eve walked over to Joe, shook her head. “You’re a real goddamn mess, Joe, but you’ll live.”
    “He hurt me. He hurt me.”
    “Yeah, he did.” Eve watched as Roarke and another uniform worked on cutting through rope and tape. “I’m sorry about that. Maybe the next time you start to smirk at a cop, you’ll remember.”
    “Water.” He sobbed, twisted some pity out of her. “Please. He wouldn’t even give me water.”
    “Here you go.” Peabody held a cup to his lips. “Slow now. We’ve got you now, Joe. We’ve got you now.”
    “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t listen.”
    “It’s okay. It’ll be okay.”
    Maybe it would, Eve thought, but he’d paid a hell of a price for being an asshole.
    S he didn’t rush it; let Reinhold stew and sweat awhile. With her team, she went through every inch of the apartment, passed the electronics, including the droid, to McNab—and Feeney, who’d showed up as the MTs wheeled Joe out, a little steamed they hadn’t waited for him.
    She found it interesting, and a little sad, to discover Reinhold hadstocked the full, traditional Thanksgiving feast. And wondered if he’d planned on tucking into it before or after he killed one of his oldest friends.
    She held up the minisaw as Roarke approached. “A new tool for him. I’d say he’d have tested it out on fingers, maybe hands, feet. Then he’d have used it to cut Joe into more easily disposable pieces—using the industrial waste bags we found to get the pieces out.”
    “A lovely thought. And likely accurate. I took the droid,” he added. “Its memory loop is fully intact, going back to when Reinhold reprogrammed it—prior to murdering Farnsworth. It will be very solid evidence for the prosecution.”
    “We’ve got nothing but solid evidence—and a live witness.”
    “So you’ll be visiting the hospital at some point, and not the morgue.”
    “Happy Thanksgiving.”
    “For most of us. I also spoke with the realtor who arranged the rental. Easy enough now to track it.”
    Idly, Roarke glanced around the main level, and even under the circumstances found satisfaction in the flow of the layout, the use of materials.
    “Reinhold snapped the place up just yesterday, and made arrangements to purchase the furniture already in place.”
    “Trendy and expensive. It suited him, and it saved him time and trouble.”
    “Mmm. So you were right on his style, but he lucked—again—into finding a place where he didn’t have to shop for his furnishings.”
    Eve’s lips turned up in a sharp, grim smile. “Luck changes, and I’m about to finish his run for good. I’m sending the electronics with McNab—and Feeney since his ass is burned I didn’t call him in awayfrom his wife, family, and day off. Anyway. They’ll just log and secure, then they’re sprung. Sanchez and Carmichael are going to work with Crime Scene to seal and secure, then they’re sprung, too. Peabody’s stuck with me. I have to deal with Reinhold today. Now. If it goes smooth enough, I’ll be home for dinner.”
    “We,” he corrected. “I’m with you.”
    “Your family—”
    “You’re my family first. I’ll let them know, and if we’re not going to be back at a reasonable time, they’ll start without us.”
    “Fine.” If it took too long, she thought, she’d push him out. But she needed to get started. “Peabody! Let’s go have a nice little chat with Jerry.”
    “Can’t wait.”
    She worked on strategy as Roarke drove to Central. She had Reinhold’s number now. With Mira’s profile, her own observations, interviews with friends, coworkers, supervisors—she knew what he was, and believed she knew how he thought.
    “You’re good cop, Peabody.”
    “Aw, damn it.”
    “He’s going to respond to bad cop—me—make