Thankless in Death

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Authors: J. D. Robb
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Wit believes the piece was also insured
.
    Thorough, Eve thought with a nod for Cardininni, and interesting information. Reinhold had limited knowledge, she concluded. The wedding canopy deal meant nothing to him, and he’d been unaware of its market value. The music box didn’t look like a big deal in the photo, and he’d probably considered it parental junk.
    So he took the shiny, and the electronics, and the cash.
    Not stupid, she thought again, just not really smart.
    She read over the sweeper’s reports, chafed a bit they hadn’t yet identified the footwear from the bloody footprints on scene, reviewed the ME’s findings, then pulled them together in her own report.
    She copied Mira, Peabody, her commander, then added the data to her board and book.
    And with her boots on her desk, sat back and studied what she had.
    Fairly ordinary people, she concluded. Traditional, long-married, middle-class. Woman keeps the home, man provides the home. Solid family ties, solid friendships, well-settled neighborhood. They’d raised one son. A disappointment? Can’t hack college, can’t hold on to a job, can’t maintain a relationship.
    Did they push him some? Yeah, yeah, she thought. Traditional.
    Be a man, get a job, think of your future, pay your bills.
    Got sick of hearing that, didn’t you, she mused, studying Rein-hold’sface. Sick of them telling you what to do, how to do it, looking at you with that disappointment in their eyes. There’s your father, plugging away every day at some stupid job—boring bastard. And your mother, fussing in the kitchen, gossiping with the neighbors, always telling you to pick up your stuff. Nagging bitch.
    Holding you back from everything you wanted, both of them.
    “That’s how you see it,” Eve murmured. “You don’t have to look at them anymore, listen to them anymore. You’re a free man now.”
    She pushed to her feet. “But not for long.”
    As she grabbed her coat, Peabody came to the door.
    “We’ve already got a hit on the two watches and the pearls. Upscale shop in the East Village.”
    “Let’s check it out, and Reinhold’s last place of employment. Just the watches and the pearls?” she added as they started out.
    “That’s all he brought in.”
    “Spreading it out. Doesn’t want people asking too many questions, and makes sure he takes them out of his own neighborhood.”
    “The owner called it in as soon as he saw the alert. He told me Reinhold came in about eleven with the watches and the pearl necklace.”
    “About two hours after the banks. Lining his nest egg.”
    In the garage, she got behind the wheel as Peabody keyed the shop address into navigation.
    “I’d have wired the money to New Jersey,” Peabody commented. “Better, Pittsburgh.”
    “Pittsburgh?”
    “Yeah, maybe Pittsburgh. Then I’d have packed it up on Saturday, walked uptown, caught a bus maybe, transferred, taken another intoNew Jersey, found a nice quiet hotel. Caught my breath. Sunday, I’d make my way south—after I cut and dyed my hair, picked up an over-the-counter temp eye-color change one place, temp tats another place.”
    “You have to show ID for the money. Change your look, it’s sending up a flag.”
    “Right. Okay, I wait on that one. I get the stuff, but I wait on it. Maybe I hunt up a shop like we’re going to in Jersey, liquidate a few items. By Monday morning, I’m picking up the money, then I use a walk-in flop, pay cash, change my looks, and I’m going to liquidate the rest in Pittsburgh.”
    “You should wait to change your looks then or we’ll have your new one when we track the goods.”
    “Damn. Right again. I use the flop
after
I liquidate, and I use some of the money to buy new ID.”
    It amused Eve—and she thought helped train Peabody—for her to poke holes in the master escape plan. “And how is some lazy bastard schmuck from the Lower West Side going to know where to get fake ID in Pittsburgh?”
    “Okay, he gets it before he leaves

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