"Should I run imaging and photographic businesses in this sector?"
"Yeah." Eve replied. "We're closing in."
One of the sweepers popped out. "Getting a lot of human and feline hair, Lieutenant. And some synthetic. Plenty of prints."
"I want everything you get taken directly to Berenski at the lab. I'll clear it."
"Shouldn't take long. Vehicle's pretty clean."
"Appreciate it. Peabody." She headed back to her own vehicle, pulling out her pocket-link as she walked. "Berenski."
"Yeah, yeah, busy. Go away."
"Dickie. I've got a sweeper haul heading your way within the hour. Sucked up from what I believe is the van used to transport the vics in the two college homicides."
"Tell them to take their time. Won't get to it till tomorrow, maybe the day after."
"You get to them before end of shift, give me verification, I've got two seats, owner's box, for the Yankees. You pick the game."
He rubbed his chin with his long, long fingers. "You're not even going to argue and threaten me first. Just the bribe?"
"I'm kind of pressed for time myself, so let's just cut to it."
"Four seats."
"For four, I want the results wrapped in a pink ribbon and delivered to me within two hours-from now."
"Done. Go away."
"Dickhead," she spewed as she stuffed the 'link back in her pocket.
"How come you never offer me seats in the owner's box?" Peabody complained.
"How come my ass has only managed to plop down in one twice this season? Life's a bitch, Peabody."
Billy probably thought so as he sat in an Interview room with his prune-faced public defender and waited for Eve to question him.
She'd put him on ice for an hour, and was stalling a bit longer, waiting for Dickie to come through. While she waited, she watched Billy through the one-way glass.
"No priors," she said to Peabody. "Not on his adult record. A couple of minor brushes as a juvenile. He's careful. Slick operator."
"You don't think he's involved."
"Not directly. He's a scam artist with a nice, easy scam. His uncle probably taught it to him. I'm going to go get started on him. When Dickhead sends the lab results, bring them in."
Billy glowered at her. The PD pursed her thin lips.
"Lieutenant Dallas, you've held my client for more than an hour. Unless you're prepared to charge him-"
"Don't tempt me. I'm well under the legal time frame, so don't pull the 'poor schmoe' routine on me. Record on. Dallas, Lieutenant Eve, conducting a formal interview with Billy Johnson regarding case files H-23987 and H-23992. Your client, Billy Johnson, has been advised of his rights and obligations, and has opted to take advantage of his rights and avail himself of the services of a public defender. Correct?"
"That is correct. At this point, neither my client nor I are clear on why he was forcibly brought in for questioning in-"
"Forcibly? Anyone use force on you, Billy? Did you sustain any injuries during your transport to this facility?"
"Took me off my job. Didn't give me much choice."
"Let it be on record that the subject was remanded into police custody and transported to Interview at Central, without force. He has been read the Revised Miranda. He has availed himself of counsel. You want to muddy the waters, sister, I'll muddy them right back. Now you and I can continue to play pushy-shovey, or I can question your client and get this done."
"My client was not given the opportunity to voluntarily-"
"Oh, zip it," Billy snapped and rubbed the crop of corn-rows covering his head. "What the hell do you want?" he demanded of Eve. "I don't know anything about anybody getting dead. What the hell do you want?"
"We've swept Ernestine MacNamara's van, Billy. Lots of prints, lots of trace evidence. We both know we're going to find some of that trace evidence doesn't go back to Ernestine or her faithful Sunday group."
"I park the car for her, so my prints-"
"We're going to find more than yours, too. And that puts you in the wringer." She kept her focus on him. "Rachel Howard. Kenby Sulu."
She watched his mouth tremble. "Oh my Jesus. Those college kids. Oh my God. I watched the reports on the news. Those are the dead college kids."
"Mr. Johnson, I advise you to say nothing-"
"Shut the hell up." His breath came fast as he stared at Eve. "Look, maybe I make a little extra on the side, but I never hurt anybody."
"Tell me about the money on the side."
"Just a minute." The PA rapped a fist on the table with enough force that Eve glanced at her with some admiration. "Just a damn minute. My client will cooperate, will answer your questions only on the condition of immunity. No charges will be forthcoming against him on this or any other matter."
"Why don't I just give him one of our platinum get-out-of-jail-free cards?"
"He will make no statement without guarantees. Cooperation is contingent on immunity from any charges regarding the parking facility and/or the homicides."
"I'll just go ask Rachel Howard and Kenby Sulu how they feel about immunity from homicide," Eve said coldly. "Oh wait, I can't. They're dead."
"I don't need immunity from any homicides. I didn't hurt anybody." He leaned forward, grabbed Eve's hand. "I swear to God. I swear on my son. I got a little boy. He's three. I swear on his life I didn't kill anybody. I'll tell you anything I can."
He drew a little breath, sat back. "But, well, I could use that immunity when it comes to the parking garage. I got a little boy. I gotta think about him."
"I'm not interested in rousting you over the sideline, Billy. As long as the sideline is shut down. And believe me, I'll know if it starts up again."
"It's closed."
"Lieutenant." Peabody stepped in, passed Eve a file. "Lab results."
"Thank you, Officer. Stand by." She opened the file, did her best to smother the laugh when she spotted the pink ribbon tucked inside. At least Peabody had had the foresight to remove it.
She skimmed the data. Not only did the carpet fibers match, but the sweepers had removed hair identified as Rachel Howard's and Kenby Sulu's from the van.
No longer amused, Eve lifted cool, flat eyes to Billy's face. "I want to know who took the van out on the nights of August eighth and August tenth."
"Okay, see here's how it works. Somebody comes by, says to me, 'I need a ride.' Maybe they want a nice little two-seater to drive their girl someplace, or a cushy sedan to take their grandma to a wedding, or something."
"Or a set of wheels to drive away in after they've hit a liquor store. Maybe a nice sturdy all-terrain to bop around in when they're making an illegals deal over in Jersey. This way they don't have to jack it, or bother with any pesky paperwork."
"Maybe." He gave her a slow nod. "I don't ask. Don't want to know, particularly. What I do is tell them what's available, and for how long. Fee's stiff and you gotta pay double up front. Get the deposit back when you return the vehicle in good condition. Still, we're cheaper than standard rental, and there's no paper."
"Everybody loves a bargain."
"See we got a lot of slots taken up on a yearly basis. We keep the rates down. Give regulars a good break. Some of these people, like Miss Ernestine, wouldn't be able to keep a ride 'cause the slot rent's so steep."
"Just your little community service. You're going to have a long wait for your medal, Billy."
"Didn't figure how it hurt anybody. The customer gets a good deal, and I get the bonus. It's put my kid in a classy pre-school. You know what those cost?"
"Who rented the van?"
"See, that's the thing. People come and they go. Repeaters, you get to know, get to figure what ride they like best. This guy, I just don't remember too much. Only came by the two times, I'm pretty sure. Knew what he wanted, paid the fee, brought it back. I didn't think anything of it. White guy," he said quickly.