“They do,” Eve confirmed. “But with Ricker? Nobody calls, nobody writes. Bullshit. No visitors other than the single one documented from Alex. No, even in a world with dancing fairies, I don’t buy it.”
Frowning, Peabody leaned on the doorjamb. “Then you’d have to ask why he—Max Ricker—would want to hide communications and visitors, keep them off the record. And how the hell he’d manage it at a place like Omega.”
“Tune out those fairies, Peabody. Bribes are universal. He could manage it, and we’ll be looking into that. As to why? To conceal communication and connections with the aforesaid criminal empire. Maybe the son’s covering for the father, or happy to take the top spot in a figurehead mode, while Dad continues to pull the strings.”
“The name stays strong,” Peabody calculated, “and the son gets the glory while Daddy still gets to play. It’s good.”
“It might be. Bringing it back to business at hand, maybe Coltraine knew more about that than made either father or son happy once the relationship ended. I vote for Dad if it moves that way. Alex didn’t know Coltraine was going to be hit. He’s too smart to put himself on the suspect list for a cop killing.”
“But see, you’re thinking he’s too smart, so it makes it a solid.”
“People come up with the lame when they think cops are idiots. He doesn’t. They come up with the lame when they’re smug and want to play games. He’s careful. Everything I’ve got on him says he’s careful.”
She swiveled around to face her murder board. “The only incautious step I see him making anywhere, anytime, is becoming personally involved with a cop. He padded layers on that, but it was still incautious. Coming to New York days before the hit, staying on through that hit? That’s just brainless.”
She glanced at the time, cursed Webster. “I have to go brief the commander. Keep going on these probabilities. And start files on each individual member of Coltraine’s squad, including her lieutenant.”
“Man.”
“It gets worse. I’m expecting a return from Webster, privacy mode. Beep me if it comes through while I’m out.”
Eve pulled out her communicator as she strode out of Homicide and to the glides. Feeney answered with a “Yo.”
“What’s the best way to find out if someone on Omega is blocking or altering visitation and communication records?”
“Go there, run it through on-site.” He gave her a long, hard stare. “Not doing it, kid, not even for you.”
“Okay, what’s the second best way?”
“Get somebody young enough to think it’s exciting, smart enough to do the dig, and shoot them off to that godforsaken rock.”
“Who can you spare that fits those requirements, and can go now?”
Feeney blew out a breath that vibrated his lips. “Since this is gonna be connected to Coltraine’s murder, you’d want young, smart, and already familiar with the investigation. I can pull Callendar off, send her.”
“What kind of authorization do you need to—”
“Hey. Captain’s bars here.”
“Right. Can you send her asap? I can see she gets fully briefed while en route. Don’t send her alone, Feeney. Send some muscle with her, just in case. Do you have any muscle up here?”
“Geeks have muscle, too.” He flexed his own biceps as if to prove it. “Get me the why we need to dig, and I’ll put it through.”
“Thanks.” She switched to Peabody. “Get Feeney the data from Baxter, and write up my take on why it’s bullshit. He’ll be sending Callendar and geek muscle to Omega to check this out.”
“Jeez, not McNab.”
“Would you characterize McNab as geek muscle?”
“He’s . . . okay, no.”
“Push it, Peabody. I want her on her way quick, fast, and in a hurry.”
“On it. Privacy-coded message just came through.”
“Okay.” She shoved her communicator away, pulled out her pocket ’link. It took her a few minutes to remember how to transfer a keyed transmission from her desk unit to a portable device, so she had to slow her pace.
She scanned the readout on the move, scrolling through for the highlights. She saved it, rekeyed it, then put her ’link away before going into Whitney’s office.
She gave her report on her feet while Whitney sat at his desk.
“Detective Peabody is continuing the probabilities. Further—”
“You don’t believe Alex Ricker’s presence in New York, his reconnection with Coltraine the night before her death, is a coincidence?”
“No, sir. I fully intend to interview him formally, here, at Central. I believe that reconnection may have been part of the motive, and the timing. I don’t believe he himself murdered Coltraine, or ordered it done. In fact, I believe had he known about the hit, he’d have taken steps to stop it, or would have warned her.”
She paused a moment, working out the wording. “I believe she was important to him, just not the most important. He took steps to keep his connection to her quiet, as much for himself, his reputation as for hers. Her death brought that connection to the surface. He knew it would. He expected cops at his door once he learned she’d been killed.”
“Why would he care if his connection to her became known, while they had their affair or after?”
“Pride and caution. It’s just not good business for a man in his position, with his interests, to have a cop as his lover. For him, business comes first, and his reputation is an essential element of that business. Her murder may have been an attempt to frame him, to cast suspicion on him, thereby damaging his reputation. His public businessman rep, and his underground rep.”
“Using her as a weapon against him.”
“Yes, sir. Because of who he is—maybe more because of who his father is—his prior affair with Coltraine puts him at the top of the suspect list on her murder. Bad for business,” Eve added.
“You’re leaning toward a competitor?”
“Possibly. She may have been killed because she was viewed as a weakness in him. She was, essentially, the only misstep he’s made professionally. Whether she was in his pocket or not—and I don’t think she was, given her profile and record, her background and personality. If she was, then he, in turn, was foolish to develop and maintain an intimate relationship with one of his tools.”
She hesitated a moment, then decided to speak frankly. “I’m aware there is speculation in some corners that I’m Roarke’s tool. Or vice versa. In point of fact, me being a cop is more problematic for him than not. And, well, vice versa. For Alex Ricker, living with a cop, maintaining an intimate relationship and a professional one? It’s asking for trouble, and he doesn’t.”
“So you’ve concluded Coltraine may have been killed because of Alex Ricker, but not by or for him.”
“Yes, sir.”
“A competitor, an underling. That’s a wide field, Lieutenant.”
“I think it may be more narrow, Commander. According to the record, Alex Ricker visited his father on Omega only once in the last eight months. There have been no communications between them, or, in fact, between Max Ricker and anyone since he began his multiple life sentences.”
“No communications, whatsoever, to or from the penal colony?”
“According to the records, no, sir.”
Whitney’s smile was tight and hard. “How stupid does he think we are?”
“Max Ricker has nothing but disdain for cops, and in the last few years his ego far overshadowed his judgment. That’s one of the reasons he’s in a cage. Since we’re not stupid, I’ve asked Captain Feeney to send a couple of e-men to Omega to check the veracity of those records.”
“When do they leave?”
“Today, sir. I hope within the hour. We could speed the process by requesting the civilian consultant make transportation available to the department for this purpose.”