"Where would he go? Is there a place, a person?"
"I would have said he'd come to me or Piper. We spent a great deal of time in each other's company, professionally and personally." He closed his eyes. "Which explains how he was able to access the match lists. He wouldn't have been questioned by anyone in the organization. If I had told you that, if I had opened those doors to you freely rather than trying to protect myself and my business, I might have prevented this."
"Open them now. Tell me about him, his mother."
"She self-terminated. I don't know if anyone's aware of that but me." Absently, Rudy pinched the bridge of his nose. "He broke down one night and told me. She was a troubled woman, mentally unstable. He blamed his father. There was a divorce when Simon was a child and his mother never got over it. She was certain that her husband would come back one day."
"Her one true love?"
"Oh God." Now he covered his face. "Yes, yes, I suppose. She was an actress, not a particularly successful one, but Simon thought she was marvelous, stunning. He worshipped her. But he was often distressed by her behavior. She would slide into a depression and there were men. She used men to bolster her moods. He was the most tolerant of men, but in this area, he was very close-minded. She was his mother and had no right to give herself sexually. He only spoke about it to me once, shortly after her death when he was lost in grief. She'd hanged herself. He found her Christmas morning."
"It's a perfect fit." Peabody sat rigidly in the passenger seat as Eve fought through traffic. "He has a mother complex, and he's replacing her, punishing her, loving her, every time he picks out a victim. The two males either represent his father, or his own dominant sexual preferences."
"Thanks for the bulletin," Eve said dryly, then rapped the wheel with the heel of her hand as she was jammed in once again on all sides. "This fucking Christmas shit! No wonder hospitals and mental clinics do booming business in December."
"It's Christmas Eve."
"I know what the hell day it is, goddamn it." She jammed the controls into straight vertical, veered sharply to the left, and zipped across the roofs of stopped cars.
"Uh, the maxibus."
"I got eyes." Eve skimmed past the bus with a stingy inch to spare.
"That Rapid Cab's going to – " Peabody braced and shut her eyes as the cab, obviously in the same mood as Eve, shot up out of the line of traffic.
Eve swore, swerved, skinned bumpers, and hit the siren full blast. "Set it down, you stupid son of a bitch." She tipped, squeezed over, and dumped her car so that it teetered half on the street, half on the sidewalk in front of a mass of irritated pedestrians.
She slammed out and stalked toward the cab. The driver slammed out and stalked toward her. Peabody could have told him if he wanted to go nose-to-nose with a cop, he'd picked the wrong one.
But, she thought, as she climbed out and elbowed through the crowd, maybe kicking a cabbie's ass would put Eve in a better mood.
"I signaled. I gotta right to a vertical lift same as you. You didn't have your lights or siren going, did ya? The city's gonna pay for that bumper, right? You cops don't own the road. I ain't taking the credit dip on the damage here, sister."
"Sister?"
Peabody actually shuddered at the jagged ice in Eve's tone. Behind Eve's back she shook her head with pity for the driver and took out her violation coder.
"Let me tell you something, brother. First thing you do is step back out of my face before I write you up for assault on an officer."
"Hey, I never laid hands on – "
"I said step back. Let's see how fast you can assume the position."
"Jesus, it's only a skinned bumper."
"You want resisting?"
"No." Muttering under his breath, he turned, splayed his legs and laid his hands on the roof of his cab. "Man, it's Christmas Eve. Let's cut each other a break here. Whaddaya say?"
"I'd say you'd better learn a little respect for cops."
"Lady, my cousin's a cop with the four-one."
Teeth set, Eve whipped out her badge and stuck it in his face. "See that. It says Lieutenant, not sister, not lady. You could ask your cousin the cop with the four-one."
"Brinkleman," he muttered. "Sergeant Brinkleman."
"You tell Sergeant Brinkleman with the four-one to contact Dallas, Homicide, Cop Central, and tell her why his cousin's an asshole. If he explains this factor to my satisfaction, I won't pull your license and report the fact that you cut an official vehicle off in air traffic. You got that?"
"Yeah, I got it. Lieutenant."
"Now, get the hell out of here."
Chastised, the driver slunk back into his vehicle, hunched down, and waited patiently for a break in traffic. Because her temper was still on the boil, Eve spun on her heel and jabbed a finger at Peabody. "And you, you want to ride with me any more today, you yank the stick out of your butt."
"Respectfully, Lieutenant, I was unaware of any foreign object in that region."
"Your attempt at humor isn't appreciated at this time, Officer Peabody. If you're dissatisfied in your position as my aide, you can request reassignment."
Peabody's heart clogged in her throat. "I don't want reassignment. Sir, I'm not dissatisfied in my position."
Barely muffling a scream, Eve pivoted away and plowed through the pedestrian traffic, earned a few bruises and rude comments, then plowed back. "You keep it up. You keep using that academy tone on me, we're going a few rounds."
"You just threatened to ditch me."
"I did not. I offered you the option of assignment elsewhere."
Peabody's voice wavered, so she clamped down. "I felt, and still feel, that you overstepped the boundaries last night in reference to my relationship with Charles Monroe."
"Yeah, you made that clear."
"It was inappropriate for my superior officer to criticize my choice of escort. It was a personal matter, and – "
"Goddamn right it was personal." Eve's eyes went dark, but not, Peabody noted with shock, in anger. There was hurt. "I wasn't speaking as your superior officer last night. I never considered myself addressing my aide. I thought I was talking to a friend."
Shame washed up from Peabody's toes to the top of her head. "Dallas – "
"A friend," she barreled on, "who was sloppy-eyed over an LC. An LC who was a suspect in an ongoing investigation."
"But Charles – "
"Low on the list," Eve snapped, "but still on it, as he'd been matched with one victim and with one of the attempts."
"You never believed Charles was the killer."
"No, I believed it was Rudy, and I was wrong. I could have been wrong about Charles Monroe, too." And the possibility clawed at her. "Take the vehicle back to Central. Update Captain Feeney and Commander Whitney on the latest data regarding our current case. Advise them that I remain in the field."
"But – "
"Take the fucking vehicle into Central," Eve snapped. "That's an order from a superior officer to her aide." She turned and pushed her way through the crowd. This time she didn't come back.
"Oh shit." Peabody slumped down on the hood of the car, ignoring the bad-tempered horns, the blast of insidious holiday music pouring out of the storefront on the other side of the packed sidewalk. "Peabody, you're an idiot."
She sniffed, reached into her pocket for her handkerchief, then remembered Eve hadn't given it back. Swiping the back of her hand under nose, she climbed into the car and prepared to follow orders.
By the time Eve reached the corner at Forty-first, she'd blown off enough steam to realize she wasn't going to walk another thirty blocks to the lab to pick on Dickie.