“We can break right here, boss, unless one of them comes back in.”
“That’d be best. If either of you comes up with anything that has a good scent to it, send it. If you catch one, leave all this.”
“Got it covered.” Jenkinson looked at Reineke. “Well, partner, ready to hit Vending?”
“It could be worse. I’m thinking how, but I know it could be worse.”
“We could hit a cart,” Peabody said as they started out.
“Let’s take the first one, see how that plays. Then a cart’s fine.”
“Good deal.”
“Culver had an aunt.”
“Yeah, I saw that.”
“I had to work through the rest—none of them gave a rat’s ass. Then I talked to her. Hasn’t seen or heard from her sister in over twenty years, didn’t know she had a daughter. But she’s making arrangements anyway.”
“That matters. It matters.”
“Yeah, it does. Which one of yours is closest?”
“Actually, one I didn’t give you yet. Allyn—with ay—Orion. He lives and works just a few blocks from here.”
“Then he’s first.” Knowing what the elevators would be like at this time of day, Eve turned to the glides. “Why does he pop?”
“First? A fake suicide attempt.”
“Fake how?”
“He took a few pills—not close to enough—then called his ex-boyfriend and claimed he was saying the long goodbye. The ex called it in, and they found Orion sort of woozy. Not even close to dead, just a little drugged up. So he grabbed a pair of scissors and threatened to cut off his ear. Like Van Gogh? But he didn’t.
“But he did,” Peabody continued, “about six months later, attack another more recent ex’s current boyfriend. High on a combo of cheap wine and Ups, he went at him when the guy and the ex came out of a club, and managed to shove the boyfriend into the street. The oncoming car stopped, but it still gave the guy a good bump.”
“Some time in, psych eval, alcohol and drug rehab,” Eve concluded.
“You got it. He’s been out for about a year.”
“He sounds fun. Let’s go have a conversation with Allyn with ay.”
“Then a cart, right? Maybe even a deli or diner. I could go for a chef’s salad.”
“If it comes from a restaurant of any nature, shouldn’t it always be a chef’s salad?”
“Sometimes they just have cooks.”
“Okay, that’s a point. But they’re never called cook’s salads. Anyway.” They jogged down the metal steps to the garage. “We’ll see how it plays out with Orion.
“Is that an actual name?”
“He had it changed legally from Pecker.”
“Seriously?” With a laugh, Eve walked to her car. “Well, you can’t blame him.”
“He was born Waldo Pecker.”
“He sounds like a lunatic, but it’s hard not to feel sorry for him. Still, it’s unlikely the killer had sex with Culver, and the former Pecker prefers men. So.”
