J. Robb - Innocent In Death

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The phenomenal series set in a future New York City returns as NYPSD Lt. Eve Dallas hunts for the killer of a seemingly ordinary history teacher-and uncovers some extraordinary surprises. Craig Foster's death devastated his young wife, who'd sent him to work that day with a lovingly packed lunch. It shocked his colleagues at the private school, too, and as for the ten-year-old girls who found him in his classroom in a pool of bodily fluids-they may have been traumatized for life.
Eve soon determines that Foster's homemade lunch was tainted with deadly ricin, and that Mr. Foster's colleagues have some startling secrets of their own. It's Eve's job to sort it out- and discover why someone would have done this to a man who seemed so inoffensive, so pleasant… so innocent.
Now Magdalena Percell… there's someone Eve can picture as a murder victim. Possibly at Eve's own hands. The slinky blonde-an old flame of her billionaire husband, Roarke-has arrived in New York, and she's anything but innocent. Roarke seems blind to Magdalena 's manipulation, and he insists that the occasional lunch or business meeting with her is nothing to worry about… and none of Eve's business. Eve's so unnerved by the situation that she finds it hard to focus on her case. Still, she'll have to put aside her feelings, for a while at least-because another man has just turned up dead.
Eve knows all too well that innocence can be a facade. Keeping that in mind may help her solve this case at last. But it may also tear apart her marriage.

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“You use very bad language. In my house, we don’t approve of bad language.”

“Screw that,” Eve said, and made Rayleen giggle. “Why’d you do Foster? I can, again, work out the how. You got the ricin from somewhere. Can’t track that, either, but you got it, dumped it in his thermos.”

“It’s called a go-cup,” Rayleen said primly.

“Right. You walked in when he had the outside class upstairs, doctored the drink. Then you got your friend to go down to class a few minutes early, so you could find him. Slick.”

“If you were right, you still wouldn’t beall right. You don’t know everything.”

“No, you got me. Why would you kill him? Did he try to hurt you? Did he try some sort of abuse? Touch you?”

“Please. That’s disgusting.”

“I’m not going to buy it was just a whim. You went to too much trouble, planned it out too well.”

Rayleen’s lips twitched. “If you were really smart, you’d know everything.”

“Got me there.”

“Maybe-and this is just like pretending I’m talking to you about it-maybe he was stupid and mean and made a really dumb mistake and wouldn’t listen even when I gave him a chance to fix it.”

“What kind of mistake? Since we’re pretending.”

“He gave me an A minus on my oral report. Aminus. I always get an A or an A plus. He had no business giving me a minus, just because he thought my presentation needed more work. I practiced and practiced. I was thebest in the whole class, and getting less than a solid A means I could drop to second instead of first.”

“You poisoned him because he gave you an A minus on a presentation?” Eve repeated.

“Itold him I needed him to change it to an A, at least. That I didn’t want to drop to second in the class, and how hard I’d worked. Do you know what he said?”

“I’m riveted.”

“He said the grade wasn’t as important as the learning and the experience. Can you believe anything that base? That stupid?”

“Boggling.”

“And he gave Melodie an A, and now we’re almost tied for first in the class. I fixed her, too.”

It was all in the diary, Eve thought, all these details. But it was fascinating, and horrible, to hear them out of the girl’s mouth. “By making sure she saw what happened to Mr. Foster?”

“She has nightmares.” Rayleen laughed. “And her attendance record’s blown! She’s such a big baby.”

“What about Williams?”

Now Rayleen rolled her eyes. “If you’re not totally stupid, you know why.”

“So I’d think he killed Mr. Foster? But-”

“That’s so lame-o.”

Rayleen got up to go to the little pay AutoChef, digging credits from the pocket of her pink jeans. She plugged them in and ordered herself a lemon fizzy.

“Why’s it lame-o?”

Rayleen got a straw from the counter, and her lips curved around it as she sucked up the drink. “You were supposed to think Principal Mosebly killed them both. Because of having sex. That’s disgusting, too, and she should pay for it. Anyway, she’s too strict, and I was getting tired of it.”

“I looked at her,” Eve agreed, and spoke conversationally. “I thought, initially, that Williams did Foster to cover the fact that he was a pervert, then Mosebly killed Williams because he tried to blackmail her. But the timing kept hanging me up, and every time I ran it through, it pulled out to the same killer for both. I couldn’t pin Foster on Mosebly. Didn’t fit.”

“You could if you wanted. He had the dumb cup in his ugly old briefcase in the class all the time, so she could’ve. Now, I guess you won’t ever arrest anyone.”

“It’s looking that way.” Eve picked up the dreadful coffee again. Just a couple of girls, she thought, having a drink and talking shop. “Where’d you get the drug you used on Williams? It was damn good thinking to get him in the pool. We nearly missed the drug since you used such a small amount. Timing worked against you that time.”

“Stupid Mr. Williams. The stuff is supposed to be absorbed and be pretty much undetectable after a couple hours. I got it from the old, ugly people’s home where I have to go volunteer and pretend not to want to puke. I sing for them, and dance and read and listen to theirbooor -ing stories. And I can go anywhere I want because everyone knows me. They keep it locked up, but it’s easy to distract the nurse or the orderly for a few minutes.”

She studied Eve’s weapon. “Did you ever kill anyone with that?”

“Yes.”

“How did it feel?”

“Powerful.”

“Uh-huh. But it doesn’t last very long. It’s like eating ice cream, and then the bowl’s empty.” Rayleen set the fizzy aside, did a series of pirouettes. “You can tell everybody in the whole galaxy what I said to you, and not one single person will believe you.”

“That’s pretty much it. Who’d believe me if I said you’d killed two people, and tried-maybe succeeded-in killing a third. And her own mother. At ten years old.”

Rayleen executed a graceful plié. “That’s not all.” She sang it.

“What else?”

“Maybe I’ll tell, maybe I won’t. People would lock you up in a looney box if you said I did it.”

“You don’t want to tell, fine. It’s getting late anyway, and it’s my day off.” Eve got to her feet. “I’ve spent enough of my time on all this.”

On tiptoe, arms curved overhead, Rayleen danced a circle around Eve. “You’ll never, never, never guess.”

“I’m too old for games, kid. And as things stand, the sooner I forget about you, the better it is for me.”

With a little thump, Rayleen dropped down to the flats of her feet. “You don’t just walk away from me! I’m not finished. I’m the one who beat you. I won! You’re being a poor sport.”

“Sue me.” Eve reached for the door.

“I killed the first time when I was only seven.”

Eve stopped, turned, leaned back on the door. “Bullshit.”

“If you curse at me, I won’t tell you how I killed my baby brother.”

“He fell down the steps. I read the investigator reports, the notes. All the files.”

“They were stupid, too.”

“You expect me to believe you pulled that off, and nobody knows?”

“I can do anything I want. I got him up early, early. I had to put my hand over his mouth when he giggled. But he listened to me, he always listened to me. He loved me.”

“I bet he did,” Eve said, and almost lost her ability to sound mildly interested.

“And he was quiet, just like I told him to be. I said we were going to go down and see the toys, and maybe even Santa. He believed in Santa. He was ajoke. It was their fault, anyway.”

“Whose?”

“My parents’, for God’s sake. They should never have had him in the first place. He was always in the way, and they were always spending time with him when they should have spent it with me. I was the first.”

“You pushed him down the steps?”

“It was easy.” Rayleen executed a small leap, then picked up her drink again. “Just one shove and he went tumble, tumble, tumble. Snap! And that was that.” On a giggle, she drank-and Eve’s stomach churned.

“Things were the way they were supposed to be. I gotall the toys that Christmas. All I had to do was cry when Daddy started to put the ones for Trev away. I got them all, and now I always get them all.”

She did another pirouette, followed it with a grand plié, then a long deep bow. “I bet you’ve never been beaten by a kid before. I’m better than any of the rest. Than anyone. Say it. Say that Rayleen is better and smarter than anyone you’ve ever met.”

“Hold that thought,” Eve suggested at the knock on the door. She opened it to Peabody, who handed Eve Rayleen’s diary. “Well, well, what have we here?”

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