Thankless in Death

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 excuses, try to hold a line, be a big shot as long as he can hold on to his guts there. And he’s going to respond to good cop, see someone who’s willing to give him leeway on the excuses. He’s not smart enough to understand the dynamics, the rhythm, or how that push-pull undermines.”
    Roarke flicked a glance at Peabody’s sulky face in the rearview. “It’s a classic for a reason,” he reminded her. “And you always know when to slip in with the softer touch. It’s masterful.”
    As Peabody perked up, Eve slid a glance toward Roarke. Talk about masterful.

    In the garage, she reached for the box of props she’d brought from the crime scene. Roarke nudged her aside, hefted it himself.
    “I’m going to know pretty quick how this is going to go,” she told him. “If I think it’s going to drag out, go into hours, I’m going to signal you, or step out and tell you. Let’s make a deal.”
    “I do love a deal.”
    “If it’s going to bog down, you go home, do the turkey thing. Then you can come back. I’ll even get word to you when I think I’m close to wrapping it up. Your aunt shouldn’t have to feel she’s in charge when she’s supposed to be a guest,” Eve added.
    “That was a good one.” He shifted the box as they rode the elevator up. “All right then, that’s a deal.”
    Satisfied with that, Eve got off the elevator. “Peabody takes the box. He’ll look at me as in charge. He’s going to be afraid of me, and I’ll make sure of it. He’s a coward, and fear’s going to break him. He’ll try to push me at first, then he’ll appeal to you,” she told Peabody. “You’re close to his age, you’re not the primary authority figure, and you’ll be sympathetic, to a point. Call him by his first name. That’s connection from you, lack of respect from me.”
    “I get it. He’s in Interview A.”
    “Then I’ll be in Observation,” Roarke said. “Good luck, both of you.”
    “That’s just what we’ve got now.” Eve led the way.
    As she’d instructed on the way in, he’d been put in Interview, but not in restraints—restraints indicated he was something to fear. The uniforms who’d pulled him out of holding and brought him up hadn’t spoken a word. Asked no questions, answered none.
    So now he sat alone in the box, lights on full—sweating, she noted when she stepped in. Beads of sweat on his upper lip, his brow.

    “Dallas, Lieutenant Eve, and Peabody, Detective Delia, entering Interview with Reinhold, Jerald.” She read off a series of case files as she took a seat. “Reinhold, Jerald, you have been informed of your rights, on record. Do you understand your rights and obligations in these matters?”
    “I don’t want to talk to you.”
    “That’s one of your rights. Do you understand that right, and the rights and obligations as given to you in the Revised Miranda?”
    He turned his head away, stared at the side wall like a petulant child.
    “Okay, fine. Peabody, arrange for him to be taken back to a cage.”
    “I’m not going back down there!”
    Eve just stood, started for the door.
    “All right, all right! Jesus, yes, I understand the stupid rights and shit.”
    “Good.” She came back, sat again. “We can make this quick and easy, Jerry. I mean, for God’s sake, we walked in on you with Joe. You’d done a number on him.”
    “You came onto my private property. That’s a violation of my rights. You can’t use anything you found when you violated my rights.”
    “Seriously?” She eased back and laughed. “That’s your defense? If you’re going to watch fictional crime shows, you should at least pay attention. Ever hear of probable cause, Jerry? Or duly exercised warrants? You abducted and were holding an individual against his will, causing him severe bodily harm. You assaulted said individual, you committed battery, battery with intent, assault with a deadly, and so forth on this individual, and you planned to murder this individual, then saw him to pieces and dispose of him.”
    “You can’t prove any of that!”

    “I can prove all of it. Let’s start with the first part. You abducted Joseph Klein.”
    “Did not!” His voice cracked a little as he jabbed a finger at her, twice. “He came to see me. He