J. Robb - Delusion in Death

“That’ll do it. Mira’s messing with him now. I’ll fill in Teasdale and Peabody, and we’ll tie it up.”

“I’ll see you soon then.”

“Yeah. What’s wrong? There’s a thing.”

“Nothing, really. This place. It’s depressing. It’s a good building, has character. It’s a nice space, really, but it’s lifeless and cold. The only place I think he’s ever felt happy, perhaps ever felt normal—that is, felt himself—was that office, and that lab.”

“He had every chance, every choice. Don’t feel sorry for him.”

“Not at all. But I can see him here, finding himself at last in the blood and death. It’s depressing.”

“Get the goods, get out. We can get a little drunk before the so much sex.”

“Well now, that sounds promising. Soon, Lieutenant.” He clicked off, grinned at Reineke as the detective cleared his throat.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to catch that.”

“No problem. Now you know I’m not a sick fuck.”

Reineke snorted out a laugh. “Never figured it. So, Feeney thought you’d want to take a look at the comp. Says the data’s encrypted.”

“Excellent. That should liven things up.”

“Ah, maybe you don’t have to mention to the LT I happened to hear her say that business. The sex business.”

“I think we’ll all be happier that way.”

Moving fast, Eve headed for Observation, contacting Whitney on the fly. “Put me through to the commander,” she snapped when she reached his admin. “Priority.”

“One moment, Lieutenant.”

She pushed through the doors where Peabody and Teasdale watched Mira work Callaway. “We got him.” She held up a finger as Peabody started to speak. “Commander, Callaway is currently in Interview with Mira, charged with the murders. The search team found his hole. They’re bringing in his electronics, and journals, and chemicals. They got it all.”

“Wrap it up,” Whitney ordered. “I’m on my way.”

“Interview A, sir,” she told him as Peabody punched her fists into the air, and Teasdale yanked out her own ’link. “I’m about to go in, finish it. I’ll contact the PA, get someone in here.”

“Hold until I get there. Coming now.”

“Yes, sir.” She clicked off, shot a finger up in the air again, then contacted Reo.

“Cher Reo.”

“We’ve got Callaway, Interview A, and enough evidence to bury him on its way in.”

She watched the petite blonde scramble for her suit jacket. “The boss is in court. I’ll tag him now, head to you. Give me some details.”

“We tied him to Menzini. He has the formula, the chemicals, the works in his apartment. You want more, get here fast.”

She clicked off. “Has he said anything I can use?” she demanded.

“He’s claiming he’s not related to Menzini, keeps asking to be allowed to contact his parents. How they’ll worry about him. Mira’s playing it soft, so he’s trying to wheedle.” Peabody took a breath. “Holy shit, Dallas. He really had everything in his apartment?”

“With some precautions. He never believed we’d make the connection. He wasn’t worried.”

“I’ve contacted my superior.” Teasdale replaced her ’link. “HSO will be filing federal charges. In addition to the murder charges, Lieutenant,” she added quickly. “Not in lieu of.”

“Fine. I don’t care which cage he lives out his miserable life in.

Here’s how it’s going to work.”

She broke off as Whitney stepped in. “Commander.”

He nodded, turned to study Callaway through the glass. “He looks ordinary, doesn’t he? An ordinary man in a well-cut suit.”

“That’s his problem. He couldn’t tolerate being ordinary. That’s why he’s in there, and that’s why he’ll confess.”

“If the formula and the items required to create the substance were in his possession,” Teasdale said, “in addition to the statements of his parents, on record, the biological connection to Menzini, a confession may be superfluous.”

“Not for me. He’s going to say what he did. He’s going to look me in the eye and tell me what he did. Peabody, I want you to go in. Hard eye him, but don’t talk to him, don’t respond if he talks to you. Whisper to Mira we’ve got the evidence, and I’m coming in. She should keep going until I do. Go in now, stand against the wall, and look tough. It’ll add some sweat.”

“Looking tough.” Peabody tightened her jaw, hardened her eyes as she went out.

“I’d like a shot at him myself,” Whitney stated.

“Commander, I’d like to keep the room unbalanced. All women, and him.”

“Understood.”

“I want to circle him awhile,” she said to Teasdale. “He’ll expect the direct hit, and he’s prepared for that. I’m going to dribble out what we have on him, keep hacking at his ego. Follow me?”

“I do.”

“Commander, if you could direct APA Reo to come in as soon as she arrives? Another woman’s going to piss him off. Ready?” she asked Teasdale.

“Very ready.”

Eve walked in first. “Dallas, Lieutenant Eve, and Teasdale, Agent Miyu, entering Interview. Excuse me, Doctor Mira, we’re going to have to cut you off. You’re welcome to stay, of course.”

“This is bullshit.” Callaway jabbed a finger into the table. “As I’ve been telling Doctor Mira, you’ve obviously got me confused with someone else. I’ve never heard of this Menzini person. My maternal grandfather was a decorated military officer, Captain Edward Gregory Hubbard. I can verify that. I demand to contact my parents. It’s my right to have communication.”

“Not once you’re charged with terrorism.” Eve shrugged as she sat. “We can hold you for forty-eight hours without communication or representation. It sucks, but that’s how it plays.”

“If there’s been a mistake”—Mira lifted her hands—“it would save time, and any additional stress to Mr. Callaway if you arranged for his parents to come here. If you spoke with them to verify his parentage.”

“I won’t have my family subjected to interrogation by incompetent police and witch-hunting government agents.” Callaway folded his arms. “I’ll wait. I have nothing to say for the next forty-eight hours.”

“Okay. You can just listen. We can and will run DNA tests to prove Menzini’s your grandfather.”

“Go ahead! I welcome it.”

“And once we do that, you’re not just cooked, you’re served up with tasty side dishes. How did you know about Red Horse?”

Like a child, he turned his head away, stared at the wall.

“Because it’s interesting you’d bring up Red Horse in connection with the killings as Menzini headed one of the sects during the Urbans. Menzini was a chemist, more self-taught than educated. And completely bat-shit. He created a substance that caused violent delusions, extreme paranoia. The same substance you used at On the Rocks and Café West.”

She let it hang, said nothing. Silence ticked, ticked, ticked as she kept her gaze steady and cool on his averted face.

He shifted in his chair. “I’m not a damn chemist. I can’t make something like that even if I wanted to. Which I don’t.”

“How did you know about Red Horse?”

“My grandfather served during the Urbans. I’ve heard stories.”

“He died before you were born.”

“They’ve been passed down. And I’ve familiarized myself with some of the battles he was in. He fought this Red Horse cult. When you mentioned religious fanatics, that came to mind. It’s that simple.”

“But Menzini was never mentioned in this family history?”

“I’ve never heard the name before today.”

“That’s pretty strange, Lew, seeing as he’s your mother’s biological father.”