Brotherhood in Death (In Death #42)

“You wanted to make him proud.”

“More than anything. So when he didn’t come, didn’t contact me, didn’t even send a message, I thought, Okay, fine, and went to the after-party. I drank a shitload of champagne, basked in the glory, basked some more when the reviews started coming in. Megastar—that’s me—in a megahit. I’m a freaking triple threat who owned the stage. Yeah, I basked. We’re all flying, nobody wants to let go of the night, you know. We’re going to go have some food somewhere, but I can’t let it go, I can’t let go he didn’t come. So I tell everybody I’ll catch up, but I have to take care of something.”

He took a breath. “I know it was getting on to three o’clock by then. It just started nagging at me. My voice coach was there, my ex-girlfriend was there, my girlfriend, actors I’d worked with off Broadway, friends from Juilliard, all there. But the most important person hadn’t come. And it nagged at me because why hadn’t he come? I finally realized—got over myself and realized—something must’ve happened. Maybe he got sick or had an accident, something. So I came over, half expecting to find him sick in bed, or hurt on the floor—though he’s healthy as they get and really fit. Then I opened the door, and . . . God. God, God, God.”

Eve gave him a minute while he wrapped his arms tight, rocked, as tears streamed down his face.

“Mr. Baker—”

“Jonas. You could call me Jonas. I was named for him.”

“Jonas, was the door secured?”

“Was the door secured? Ah, yes. Yes, I have the swipe, the codes. I came in, and saw him. I thought: That’s not real. It can’t be real. I called for him, I actually called for him as if he could make it stop.”

His breath tore; his voice broke.

“It’s okay, Jonas.” Trueheart’s voice was gentle as a mother’s touch. “Take a minute. Take your time.”

“It’s just—I didn’t know what to do. I feel like I just stood there forever, doing nothing. Telling myself it wasn’t happening. Just stood there. Then, I don’t know, I looked down and my ’link was in my hand. I don’t remember getting it out of my pocket. Don’t remember doing it. I called nine-one-one, and the guy on the other end, he kept telling me to stay calm, to breathe, help was coming. And the police came. Everything in slow motion but really fast. How can that be? I didn’t know what to do for him. He always knew what to do for me.”

“You did the right thing,” Trueheart assured him. “You did what was best for him. You got help.”

“They—someone—took his life. And they took his dignity. Why?”

“It’s my job to find that out.” As Trueheart played it easy, Eve played it brisk. “When was the last time you spoke with him?”

“Yesterday. Early in the afternoon. I tagged him to remind him his ticket was at the box office, and I could tell he was upset about something. His old friend Edward Mira died. He’d been murdered. Granddad didn’t have a lot of the details, but . . .”

Now any hint of color drained. “Jesus God. Senator Mira, and now Granddad. Is it the same? Is it the same person who did this?”

“Did you know Senator Mira?”

“Yeah, sure. He and my grandfather go way back—they were college buddies, and they stayed friends. Miss—”

“Lieutenant. Lieutenant Dallas.”

“Lieutenant. Is it the same? Did the same person kill them both?”

“We’re pursuing all leads and angles.” She hesitated a moment. He wasn’t in this, she thought. And if he was, he already knew. “There are enough similarities that I believe the same person or persons are involved.”

“But that’s . . . it’s crazy.”

“Nonetheless. When you spoke to your grandfather, did he express any thoughts or opinions on the senator’s murder?”

“He didn’t seem to have any real details. I was on a media blackout—just keeping my head in the play—so I hadn’t heard. He said it seemed as if someone had abducted Senator Mira, and killed him. He was shaken up—like I said, they went back. I never thought of it, not when he didn’t show for the play. I didn’t think of it, or that he’d be grieving. If I’d gotten out of myself long enough to think of him, I would have. And I’d have left him be. I wouldn’t have come here this morning. I don’t know which is worse.”

“What is, is. And the fact that you did come means we’re able to start gathering information quicker. Do you know of anyone who had a grudge against your grandfather? Or against both him and the senator?”

“Not really.” Jonas sat back, scrubbed his hands over his face, and some color back into it. “They were both political, and politics makes enemies. Hell, what doesn’t? Not everybody liked Granddad’s line on economic issues, but you don’t kill somebody for that. I’d say not everybody liked Senator Mira’s lines, either, and he wasn’t my favorite person, but Jesus.”

“You didn’t like him.”

“I didn’t dislike him, especially. I just thought he was kind of a jerk, and pompous.” He shrugged. “He was my grandfather’s old college buddy so, you know, allowances. I have to tell my mother. Jesus. And Gram. God. I have to tell my grandmother.”

He dropped his head into his hands again. “And my brother. My half sister, she’s in Australia with Mom, but Gavin’s in law school.”

“Yale.”

Jonas managed a shaky smile. “Yeah, family tradition. I didn’t make that cut. I got into Juilliard, and never looked back. I have to tell them. And my uncle. My mother’s brother. What do I tell them?”

“I can make the notifications if you’d rather.”

“I would rather, I’d rather anything, but I have to do it. I have to tell them myself. They shouldn’t hear it from a stranger. They won’t see him like that, will they? I don’t want them to see him like I did.”

“No. The medical examiner will make sure he’s taken care of, given that dignity back. You and your family can check with Dr. Morris at the morgue about seeing your grandfather, and when you can make arrangements for him.”

“Okay. Okay.” Now his ravaged eyes bored into hers. “I want to tell them, tell myself, you’re going to find whoever did this, why they did it, you’re going to put them away. Is that true?”

“I can tell you that finding who did this and why is my focus, it’s my job. I take my job very seriously.”

“That’s a good answer.”

“I need to ask you a few more questions, then you can contact your family.”



When Eve left Jonas, she spoke quietly to Trueheart.

“You did good, smoothed him over. It takes insight and the right touch to do that.”

“I knew who he was. I didn’t remember last night was the opening, but the play’s been getting a lot of hype, and I’ve seen him on a couple billboards. He’s probably a good actor, but—”

“He’s bottom of the list. If that was show, he’s Oscar worthy.”

“It’s actually a Tony for Broadway.”

“Whatever works,” she said, making Trueheart grin.

She found Peabody with Baxter. The morgue team was in the process of removing the bagged body, and sweepers were already scattered around the area.

“He’s not in this,” she said straight off. “But we verify. Trueheart, check the names on the list he gave us, who he was with up until around three this morning. And who he was with when the senator was taken, and at Senator Mira’s TOD. Let’s just cross him off.”

“I brought McNab,” Peabody told her. “He and Roarke are taking the electronics. Roarke’s already gone over the front entrance. No sign of forced entry. According to the expert, whoever brought him in used the proper swipe, the code, the works.”

“They’d have had Wymann’s, whether or not they did him here or elsewhere.”

“We’ve done a walk-through.” Baxter took another look around. “Nothing that shows the vic was restrained and bashed around in here.”

“Maybe they cleaned up.” She did her own look, slipped her hands in her pockets. “More likely they took him wherever they took the senator. They’ve got a place set up. When they took Wymann, where they took him from. Let’s find out. The why’s going to be the same as the senator.”