Treachery in Death

by J. D. Robb

“It’s only our second date,” she reminded him, and her eyes sparkled like her wine. “There’s more.”

  “I’m looking forward to discovering you, Darcia. We don’t have to rush it. Well, hard to rush it anyway when we’ll be on two different planets—or a planet and a satellite—in a few days.”

  “I like to take things slowly, carefully. The job, as you know, can be difficult, demanding, so in my personal life I prefer the uncomplicated.”

  She lifted her champagne again, smiling at him over the pale gold bubbles. “I didn’t ask you into my hotel room last night because this—you and I—this will be complicated.”

  “I’ve been taking a break from complicated myself, in the personal area. But I want to see you again, spend time with you. I want to see what happens next.”

  “I’ve given some thought to what happens next. And since I know what I’d like that to be, I’ll be asking you into my room tonight.”

  He smiled back at her. “I was hoping you would.”

  With the data Webster passed to her, Eve ran an analysis of Accounting for Renee’s squad. Then an analysis of the analysis. The flood of numbers, the puzzlement of percentages gave her a headache. And still she couldn’t see a clear pattern. She couldn’t see enough to point a finger at anyone in charge of the accounts.

  She toggled away from that—maybe if she let the numbers rest they’d make more sense to her—and took another sweep through Renee’s squad. There she believed she saw a pattern, where Detective Lilah Strong, a rookie uniform, and two other detectives stood as abnormalities.

  She needs clean cops, Eve calculated. To handle the piddly stuff, to turn in legit reports—and as fall guys when she needs or wants them. Use them, then lose them. One way or another.

  She thought of Gail Devin, glanced at Peabody.

  Her partner was in it deep and would stick, Eve knew, no matter how long it took, no matter how many layers needed to be shifted through.

  She looked at her board.

  On one side, Rickie Keener. Loser, criminal, junkie, low-life pig. But he was hers now.

  On the other, Detective Gail Devin, by all reports a good cop with good instincts—and with the moral code to talk to an older, experienced cop she respected about her concerns over her boss.

  Two sides of the scale, Eve decided, but she knew—she knew that while Renee may not have plunged the syringe or snapped the neck, she’d killed them both.

  Added to one side of that scale, Detective Harold Strumb—stabbed to death in an alley while his partner and a squad mate walked away unharmed.

  They wouldn’t be the only ones. And unless Renee went down, they wouldn’t be the last.

  She opened Allo’s case notes, began to read.

  She liked his style—terse, even pithy, but thorough. She noted he’d questioned Sergeant Runch’s invoices regularly. And when she correlated with Allo’s file under Renee’s command she found the lieutenant’s notations citing him as malingering or conflicting with fellow officers.

  Eve started her own file on Allo’s cases during the seven-month period, the invoices, the evals. Not wanting to disturb Peabody, she sent her a memo to do the same on Devin, and to follow it, as she was with Allo, with a probability analysis.

  While it ran, she began to study the Geraldi files she’d forced Renee to send her.

  She put it on hold when Webster came in.

  “You’ve got something?” she demanded.

  “Nothing major. Why?”

  “You look like you’ve got something. You look happy.”

  “I’m a happy guy.”

  She waved that away. “What have you got that’s minor then?”

  “Marcell—partner of Strumb, the one who went down. IAB’s got a file on him.”

  “Over Strumb?”

  “No. Deals with before that. They interviewed and investigated him over a questionable termination—five years ago. There were witness reports claiming Marcell fired on full, twice, after the suspect had dropped his weapon and surrendered.”

  “The determination?”

  “Cleared him. The witnesses were two other dealers, so their statements were given the fish-eye. The suspect did have an illegal weapon and had discharged it. Marcell stuck to his story. The suspect remained armed and was again preparing to discharge. Reconstruction couldn’t disprove. However, there’s a note in the file—the one I had to slide out without notification. A big, fat question mark. Updated after both wits met violent ends.”

  “Like Strumb and those wits.”

  “Yeah. Marcell had an alibi in both cases. Solid.”

  “For the wits on Strumb, yeah,” Eve agreed. “Solid but bogus. What did he use on the wits on the older deal?”

  “He was on a stakeout with another officer. Freeman, coincidentally.”

  Webster dropped into a chair. “I know he’s wrong—Freeman, too. You know it. The pattern’s saying they’re wrong in big, shiny letters. But we’re not there yet.”

  “More there than we were twenty-four hours ago.”

  “Can’t argue. In other news. I’ve started my own file on everyone currently in Renee’s squad—including her. There’s plenty of shadow there, Dallas. If I could take this to my boss, we’d break it open, and we’d damn well be there.”

  “People slip out of shadows, Webster, just like Marcell. I’m not jeopardizing slamming this lid down so IAB can make a big bang.”

  “I don’t give a shit about the bang, Dallas.”

  “I wouldn’t have asked you if I thought you did. I contacted and spoke with DS Allo and have his case notes from the seven months he was with the squad under her. It’s no wonder she needed him gone. He doesn’t miss anything.”

  “You brought him in?”

  “I made a judgment call. He knew Runch was skimming and reported it to his lieutenant.”

  “Did he document?”

  “He has detailed notes, times, dates. I doubt we’ll find them corroborated in her files. What he got in return was the first rip in a thirty-year career. He suspected Renee. I’ve written up my conversation with him, and I’ve got a copy for you. Attached to it is the file on Gail Devin.”

  “The other officer in her squad who went down.”

  “Allo knew her, and she came to him with concerns about their lieutenant and the squad that mirrored his. But, I think, instead of transferring out, she not only stuck but she might’ve pushed it. She talked to somebody else or started documenting—something—and they took her out.”

  “If you’re right, and fuck it, Dallas, it feels right, that makes two cops she’s killed.”

  “I’m betting more. Peabody’s working the Devin angle. She’ll copy you on what she finds or concludes. Contact you if she needs any cover with the digging.”

  He nodded. “So ... you went a round with Garnet today, and he lost. Did you set him up or did he just fall into it?”

  “Some of both. He tried to cover why he and Bix accessed my vic’s flop by some bullshit about a connection to a major investigation they’re working. That was a stupid move, because it handed me the files. The thing is, the files aren’t complete. She did some deleting, rearranging. There’s something off. I’ve read enough of her reports by now, her style there, to know she slid things around. Things she didn’t want me to see.”

  “Do you want me to find an IAB angle on the investigation?”

  “Not yet. I’ve got a way around her game. But a little whiff of IAB nosing around Garnet wouldn’t hurt.”

  “More pressure on him.”

  “That’s right. He’ll blow. If I can get him in, he’ll turn on her to save his own ass. Last thing, I’d like you to dig around, see if there’s been any dirt or accusation of dirt on Strong, Detective Lilah, in Renee’s squad. She’s new there, and her record reads solid. And my read of her is she doesn’t like the boss or the setup.”

  “Clean cop, female cop.” Webster weighed it out. “You’re looking for a mole.”

  “If I use her, if she�
�s clean and she agrees, I want her protected against an IAB hit if she needs to do or profess herself willing to do what would earn her one.”

  “I’ll look at her, and if it goes, I’ll have it all documented. She’s undercover, sanctioned. Whitney needs to sign off.”

  “It won’t be a problem.” She held up a finger when her ’link signaled. “It’s Feeney. What ya got?” she answered.

  A thin smile lightened his hangdog face. “I thought you’d like to hear this. Renee’s in her vehicle, and just had a ’link conversation.”

  “Roll it out.”

  “One sec. Patching the recording on.”

  “What the hell,” Eve decided. “Incoming ’link transmission on wall screen.” She glanced over, saw Peabody grin.

  “Thanks.”

  She saw Renee first, behind the wheel, fingers tapping, shoulders swaying to the beat of the music she’d selected.

  “Likes her new ride,” Eve murmured. “Nice upgrade.”

  When Renee’s ’link signaled, she cut her eyes down—dash screen readout, Eve concluded. Her face went hard. “Goddamn it. Transfer transmission to pocket ’link two.” She snatched it up, shoved it into its on-dash slot. “Garnet.”

  The angle blocked the pocket ’link’s screen, but his voice came through loud and clear.

  “You said you were going to fix it. Fuck this, Oberman. I’m not taking a thirty-day rip from that cunt because you can’t figure out how to slap her down.”

  “Calm down. And don’t contact me about this or anything else unless it’s on the safe ’link. You know how I feel about that.”

  “I’ll calm down when you do what you’re supposed to do. You’d better have my back on this.”

  “Bill, I went directly to Whitney on your behalf. I explained the situation, that in my view it was simply a heated exchange between you and the lieutenant. That you were, very understandably, protecting an investigation you’ve put considerable man-hours, considered effort into—and which is at a tipping point. I went to bat for you, Bill, just as I said I would. And because I did, Whitney called her up. She won’t budge.”

  “I’ll budge the fucking whore.”

  “You listen to me. You listen to me,” Renee said with a whip in her voice. “I’ll handle her. I’m going to try another approach. You stay clear, do you read me? If you have to take this rip, I’ll make it up to you. Jesus, Garnet, if it sticks, look at it like a month’s vacation. Go to the beach. You know how you love the beach.”

  “Fuck that, and fuck you if you think I’m going to let this cut me out of the Geraldi deal.”

  “Nobody’s cutting you out of anything. If you’d get yourself under some damn control we wouldn’t be in this situation.”

  The tone shook with anger, accusation. Not, Eve thought, the right way to handle a man whose fuse was already lit and running.

  “Goddamn Dallas wouldn’t be in your face, or mine, if you hadn’t screwed up in the first place. And you wouldn’t be facing a rip if you’d held it together. You went at her, for Christ’s sake, in my office, under my nose. You made physical contact.”

  “She got in my fucking way.”

  “And you’re getting in mine. I’m putting myself out for you, and I don’t like putting myself out. Remember that.”

  “And you remember just what I can do if you try to fuck with me. Remember who knows where the bodies are buried, where the dirt’s stored. If you want to keep what you’ve got, Renee sweetie, you make damn sure I keep mine.”

  “Asshole!” she spewed, pounding a fist on the wheel when he broke transmission.

  Feeney came back on. “Pretty, huh? After she pulled into her garage. Sat there stewing in her vehicle for a while. Didn’t make any more contacts.”

  “Very sweet. No actual admissions of wrongdoing, but plenty of insinuations. He’s on the heat, and she knows it.”

  “He’s still useful to her,” Webster put in, “so she wants to keep him.”

  “Definitely,” Eve agreed, “but more than that, he works for her, she took him on, and she damn well needs him to remember who’s ... top dog.”

  “She loses it when her authority’s questioned or threatened.” Peabody waited for Eve’s nod. “Under it, I don’t think she’s as confident as she wants to be, even thinks she is. She’s scared of losing the controls because holding the controls is what matters most to her.”

  “I believe you’d do Mira proud with that analysis,” Eve told her.

  “Fear makes her dangerous.”

  “Then we’re going to make her very, very dangerous.” And, Eve thought, she would personally revel in it. “We’ll have to see how she intends to handle me. On the Giraldi investigation, according to the file, Garnet and Bix have been tracing a shipment coming in within the next two weeks for the Giraldi family—specifically for Anthony G. She’s altered some in the file, but I’m going to take care of that. My research indicates Anthony Giraldi deals primarily in Zeus and hard-line sex drugs like Whore and Rabbit.”

  She frowned as her ’link signaled another incoming. “Oh, look here. It’s Renee sweetie. Stay on, Feeney, answering as conference trans, blind incoming to current contact.

  “Dallas,” she answered with an edge of impatience.

  “Lieutenant.” Renee gave her a sober look through the screen. “I understand I’m not your favorite person at the moment.”

  “You hit down the list.”

  “I think we got off on the wrong foot, and that was just exacerbated by what transpired in my office today. I’m hoping we can come to terms, find a middle ground. I’d like to buy you a drink, to apologize, and to talk this out. Lieutenant to lieutenant.”

  “I’m working a case, Oberman.”

  “We’re both busy women. This friction between us is disruptive. I’m trying to reach out, Dallas, so we can smooth this over and both do our jobs.”

  Eve leaned back as if considering. “You want to buy me a drink? Fine. O’Riley’s Pub, Upper West on Seventh. In an hour.”

  “That’s perfect. I’ll see you there.”

  “It could be a setup,” Peabody said immediately after Renee clicked off. “She could have Bix or another of her gorillas lie in wait for you.”

  “She can’t afford to take me out now. Not when we’re having this ‘friction.’ When everybody at Central’s talking about us butting heads. Shines another light, and she wants to dim them.”

  “She could let Garnet know where you’ll be and when,” Feeney put in. “Stir him up so he goes at you. It all falls on him.”

  “If it fell he’d start talking, and she knows it.”

  “He can’t talk if she takes him out. He goes for you, takes you out or at least puts you down. And she rides to the rescue, has to take out one of her own officers in your defense. It’d be a good play.”

  Eve had to agree. “Yeah, but I don’t think she’s as smart as you, Feeney, or has time to set it up. She’s not desperate yet. She’s pissed off and she’s off balance.”

  “I’m going with you,” Peabody insisted. “I’ll back you up.”

  “Peabody, she’s researched me, so she knows who you are, knows you’re my partner. If she spots you, this could fall apart.”

  “I’ll do it.” Webster glanced at his wrist unit. “She doesn’t know me—and in any case, IAB’s good at blending. She won’t make me.”

  “She’s not going to try for me. It’s not her play, not now.”

  “Regardless, I’m backup.”

  “Backup for what?” Roarke asked as he came in.

  “For nothing I need it for. I’m having a drink with Renee, at her request. I told her O’Riley’s, in an hour. I heated things up some today, and she wants to cool them down.”

  “She’s already killed—or had two cops killed,” Webster told him. “That we know of. Sometimes you know what you can’t yet prove,” he said before Eve could speak. “I’m going to back her up. I’ve got soft clothes in my vehicle,” he told Eve. “She won’t make me.”r />
  “I’ll be backing the lieutenant up,” Roarke said. “Or I should say Webster and I will.”

  “She knows Dallas,” Webster pointed out, “so she sure as hell knows you and that you’re married. She won’t talk with you around.”

  “She won’t see me, will she? Tell Webster why you selected O’Riley’s.”

  “Because it’s close, and because he owns it.”

  “There’s a snug behind the bar. A room,” Roarke explained. “We can monitor them from there.”

  “I’m already monitored.” Eve tapped her chest. “You put the damn thing on me this morning.”

  “So I did,” Roarke agreed. “And very pleasant duty it was. We’ll be monitoring from on site. Would you still like to change, Detective?”

  “Yeah. In case I need to go out of the back room for any reason.”

  “Summerset can show you a room for that then.”

  “I’ll get on that.”

  “This is over the top,” Eve insisted when Webster walked out.

  “She’s a cop killer. You’re a cop.” Roarke tapped her chin. “You’re my cop.”

  “If you’re going to get squishy, I’m closing off,” Feeney said. “We’ll have you covered from here, Dallas.”

  “I’m going to be so covered I might as well be smothered.”

  “I feel better,” Peabody commented.

  “Oh well, then it’s all worth it.”

  “While you’re having your drink, I’m going to ask McNab to come in, work this with me from this point.”

  Still miffed, Eve shrugged.

  “You can drive me over,” Roarke said. “When you’re in and clear, I’ll take Webster in through the back of the snug. And on the way, we can fill each other in on how we spent our days.”

  You might as well ride with us,” Eve said to Webster.

  “Actually, I’ll need to take off after the meet—if we’re clear. I have a life outside the job, Dallas,” he added when she frowned at him. “And I’m going to get back to it once we’re clear of the meet.”

  “Fine. Suit yourself.”

  Roarke slid into the passenger seat. “So, what have you done today that persuades Renee she needs to buy you a drink?”