Page 9 of Framed in Death (In Death #61)

As it recited the data, the eyes flickered. An indication it accessed memory banks.

“Age twenty-six. Mixed-race female, licensed for males. Monique Varr, age twenty-eight, Caucasian female, licensed for male and female and nonbinary.”

“On the east side of the block,” Campbell continued, “Zola Messner, age twenty-three, Black female, licensed for all genders. Diego Quint, age twenty-two, Hispanic male, licensed for all genders.”

“That’s it?” Eve said after a pause.

Campbell nodded. “Affirmative, Lieutenant. These five street-level licensed companions, excluding the deceased, routinely work that block.”

“Have you observed any relationship, including animosity toward the deceased, from any of these individuals?”

“In my observation, individuals Chumbly and Varr engaged in conversation with each other, while the deceased did not.”

“Quint and Messner also engaged in conversations with each other, and on occasion with Chumbly and Varr, while the deceased appeared to distance herself.”

“We observed no particular animosity,” Campbell concluded, “and no sense of solidarity.”

“Okay, thanks for coming in. Dismissed.”

Peabody lingered when the droids left. “Should I do a run on those names?”

“I’ll do a quick one once I finish the book.”

“I saw we got the lists of employees, artists, and art students from Whittier. It might be more productive if I started on that.”

“Do that.”

Eve finished the book, started the runs.

She’d just finished when Shelby’s list came through.

Shelby had found a handful of relatives with contacts. A few more who’d gone off the grid, or were deceased.

Eve started at the top with great-grandparents.

By the time she got down to an aunt, she wondered how anyone could claim that blood ran thicker than water.

Carmen Young, Mitzi Lee Starr’s sister, answered fast, and looked terrified. “New York police? What happened to Ethan? Is he hurt? Is he—”

“Ms. Young, I’m not contacting you about Ethan.” Her son, Eve noted from Shelby’s list—age sixteen. “I’m contacting you about your niece.”

“Niece? I don’t understand, neither Alice nor Chloe are in New York. They’re in school right here in Richmond! Ethan’s in New York on a school trip. If something happened—”

“I hope he’s enjoying the city, and this has nothing to do with him. Again, I’m contacting you about your niece Leesa Culver. Your sister’s daughter.”

“My…” The fear died, and lapsed into resignation. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know Mitzi had a daughter. She, Mitzi, ran away at sixteen. I was a couple years older, had already moved out. She hasn’t contacted me since. Is her daughter in trouble in New York?”

“I regret to inform you Leesa Culver was murdered last night.”

“Oh God, oh my God.” She covered her mouth with her hand, and her eyes went wide with horror. “Murdered? Oh God. Give me a minute, please. I was just about to go into a meeting. Let me postpone that. Just one minute.”

The ’link went to holding blue, thankfully without music.

As she waited, Eve took another quick look at Shelby’s notes.

Carmen Young, age forty-six, married to Liam Young for twenty-two years. Three offspring, with the visiting Ethan the middle child. She worked as an office manager in Richmond, Virginia.

When Carmen came back on, she appeared to have steadied. She wore her brown hair in a long bob around an attractive face with dominant bright blue eyes.

At the moment, they held a sheen of tears.

“Can you tell me what happened to her?”

“She was strangled.”

“Good God. Do you know who? Do you know why?”

“We’re investigating. Ms. Young—”

“How old was she?”

“Twenty-two.”

“Does Mitzi know? Have you reached her mother?”

“Yes, I informed her mother.”

“Could you give me Mitzi’s contact? Or you could give her mine. I can’t imagine what she’s going through. Losing a child. Having a child killed this way. If there’s anything we can do to help…”

“Ms. Young, Ms. Starr—”

“Who?”

“Your sister changed her surname from Lauder to Starr.”

The bright blue eyes went blank as she nodded. “I see.”

“Your sister has declined to view or to claim her daughter’s body. She’s declined making any arrangements for her daughter’s burial or cremation.”

On that blank stare, Carmen shut her eyes. “Some things don’t change, do they?” she murmured. “Some people just never change.”

“I’ve notified your mother, and your father, your grandfather. We’re unable to find a location or contact for your grandmother.”

“Join the club,” Carmen said flatly, then shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. It really can’t matter. I assume none of them have changed either. I’m sorry, this is all so upsetting. What is your name?”

“Lieutenant Dallas.”

“Lieutenant, we’ll, of course, make arrangements for… Oh my Jesus.” Her eyes filled again. “I’ve already forgotten her name.”

“It’s Leesa. L-e-e-s-a. Leesa Culver. Listen, don’t beat yourself up. You’ve been blindsided.”

“You’re right about that.”

“Leesa’s father has also expressed no interest in making arrangements. Nor have the few family members on her paternal side we were able to contact.”

“All right.” Again, she covered her mouth with her hand. This time she took three slow breaths, then dropped it. “All right,” she repeated. “Can you tell me what I need to do? How we go about… Give me a second to get my thoughts in order.”

“Take the time you need.”

“I don’t think we should bring her here.

No one knows her, and that’s so sad. No formal funeral or memorial.

It doesn’t make sense, does it? And that’s even more sad.

How do I arrange for cremation, and maybe, ah…

” She pressed a hand over her eyes a moment.

“Okay, yes, is there a way to have a tree planted for her? Is there a way to arrange that?”

“Yes, I can put you in touch with someone to help you with that.”

“We’ll plant one here, too. In the yard, I think. I think that’s the right thing to do. I don’t know what else we could do for her. For Leesa. All right, tell me how we go about it all, and we’ll take care of it.”

Eve gave her Morris’s information, then, as she and Roarke had once planted a tree for a friend’s murdered sister, passed on that process.

“All right, thank you so much for the help. We’ll take care of this. Is my sister in New York?”

“No.”

“Just as well.”

“Ms. Young? Thank you.” When Carmen shook her head, Eve pressed on.

“You were the last on my list, and the only one who’s shown compassion, who’s willing to make the effort.

Leesa’s my responsibility now. It’s my job to find out who took her life, to bring her justice.

It’s my duty to stand for her. You didn’t know her, but you’re willing to stand for her, too. ”

“I have a family, a wonderful, frustrating, loving family. Considering what came before, I think I’m the luckiest woman in the world. I wish I’d known Leesa and had a chance to bring her into my family. I didn’t, so now this is all I can do for her.

“Lieutenant, will you let me know when you find who did this?”

“Yes, I will.”

Afterward, she got more coffee, and stood for a moment drinking it by her skinny window.

There were some, she thought, no matter what they came from, who worked to make themselves better.

She glanced back at the board and Leesa.

“Maybe you’d have had a better chance with her. Or maybe that wouldn’t have changed your direction at all. Either way, you’ve got someone with enough heart who’ll plant a tree for you.”

She went back to her desk to send a memo to Mira, with the case file attached. And asked for a consult at Mira’s convenience.

Then she walked out to Peabody in the bullpen.

“I’ve carved it down some,” Peabody told her.

“I separated the females, and I’ve eliminated some who either relocated or are currently out of New York, even the country.

Like one of the students—he was a regular—he’s doing a year in Florence at an art school, and one of the featured artists—multiple times—moved to Paris six months ago. ”

“Any with dings?”

“A few. Top of the list, Simon Standish, twenty-eight, in SoHo. Day job, barista. He’s on his third café.

Arrested last year when he became verbally abusive at an art show, escalated that when he punched the featured artist in the face.

He did sixty days in, mandatory anger management, and three months of community service.

“And it happens to be Glenda Frost’s gallery where he went off, so it was easy to get some impressions of him from her. She’s doing that show for Erin Albright’s work next month. Did you buy that painting?” Peabody wondered. “The one of the pizza place?”

“Yeah. Frost asked me if she could keep it for the show.”

Erin Albright would never marry the love of her life, or take her to Hawaii on their honeymoon.

But her art would live on.

“Standish.”

“Frost said he’s a high-strung, angry young man whose work shows promise, but isn’t ready yet. Which he doesn’t like to hear. She also doesn’t think he could or will kill, and certainly not this way. Or mimic an old master, as he does abstracts.”

“We’ll have a chat anyway.”

“I figured. I’ve got a couple more.”

“Tell me on the way. Hold on. Reineke, anything look good?”

Reineke shifted, and when he crossed his leg over his other knee, she got a peek at the urine-colored flower adorning his sock.

“I got a lot of stories about eccentric artists, nutty artists, lousy ones, and a couple with tempers. Sexy’s in there, too.

Temper? I got a Kyle Drew the model—goes by Adora—claims screamed at her when she didn’t hold the pose, put a few bruises on her when he yanked her back into it.

Then ended up throwing a table at her—just missed.

That’s when she grabbed her clothes and walked out.

“Got another, Martin J. Martin—no shit on that. This model says he slapped her, twice, when he didn’t get what he wanted. And when she started to cry, yelled out that was perfect, told her to sit her ass down, and so on. Which she did because she said she hadn’t been paid yet.”