by J. D. Robb
“Jesus Christ.”
“Read the report, Webster. Watch the record. Garnet’s valuables were removed—except for the knife he had sheathed on his belt. The detectives have agreed to keep me informed of their progress.”
“What did you have to give them for that?” Webster demanded.
She rounded on him now, every bit as angry as he. “Not everything comes down to payment, to quid pro quo. I have an interest in their case—their vic is connected to mine and was killed in the same place. Since they’re cops with brains, they can follow the dots. I told them I couldn’t share certain details and areas of my own investigation with them, at this time. Which, again since they’re cops with brains, tells them it’s bigger than a dead junkie. Which they were smart enough to have already figured out. It will be the commander’s decision as to whether the officers investigating Garnet’s murder will be so informed.”
“I’ll review it,” Whitney told her.
“Yes, sir. From my own examination, from the angle of the wound, the killer was taller than the vic. The vic was a solid six foot. He was also taken from behind, indicating he entered ahead of his killer, had his back to his killer. Indicating this was someone he knew, trusted. I believe Bix killed Garnet, and given his pathology and profile, he did so on orders from his lieutenant.”
“A little housecleaning,” Feeney said.
“Yeah, Garnet was mucking up her tidy area. I suspect in the period between his altercation with me and his death, he contacted her or went to see her. He knew IAB was sniffing,” she added with a nod to Webster.
“I put out the scent, as agreed.”
“It worked. He’d turned on her before, put the muscle on her the night Peabody overheard them. He lost control, twice, with me. She had no control over him in her office yesterday—and she knew it. Her attempts to clean up after him went nowhere, and added to her embarrassment. He came at me again last night, and would lose his badge over it. He was not only no more use to her, but a threat. She acted quickly—too quickly, I think. Heat of the moment. A cooler head would have found another, quieter way, to get rid of him.”
“Yes, I agree,” Mira said when Eve looked her way. “Garnet and Renee were once lovers. She took away whatever power he had in the relationship by ending the sexual connection.”
“Which was probably why she started and ended it,” Eve suggested.
“Very likely. He took orders from her on two levels, and did so because it was profitable, and because she continued to see he had meaningful assignments on both levels. She reprimanded and punished him for whatever mistake he made with Keener. Then he was confronted with another female superior, one who did not show him the respect he deemed himself due, nor did she placate him as Renee would. Now he’s punished again, reprimanded again. And snaps.
“Oberman can’t control him, which reflects poorly on her, on both levels again. His actions demand that she do so, and since she can’t, she eliminates him. The ultimate control, proving she is in charge. Proving it,” Mira added, “to herself as well as those under her command.”
“And that’s priority for her,” Eve put in. “To be on top, in command, in charge.”
Mira nodded. “If she’s not in charge, she’s nothing. Nothing more than the daughter of an important, revered man, one she can in no way live up to. Except by treachery and deceit. She acted quickly, decisively, because she saw it as command. When, in fact, it was fear and loathing.”
“Why that location?” Eve asked.
“I suspect you know. Not only would it serve as a place Garnet would go, if properly enticed, it’s a slap at you. Here’s another body when the first is hardly cold. It was a way to use him against you, particularly if she was aware you’d fought with him earlier, and the results of that would show.”
“Yeah, I left some marks on him,” Eve agreed.
“It was your scene. You and the victim had an altercation earlier in the day. She has no way of knowing you recorded and reported the second incident, but can be assured the investigating officers would be obliged to question you regarding Garnet.
“She has to prove she’s better than you. You’ve shaken her command and her confidence in it. She can’t tolerate that.”
“She’ll have to tolerate a whole lot more before it’s done. Anything fresh from EDD?” she asked Feeney.
“Now that you mention it.”
Before he could continue, Webster stood. “This is IAB’s now. I’m obligated to take this to my captain and initiate an official investigation. The financial data and falsified docs are enough to bury them.”
“There’s a small matter of murder,” Eve reminded him.
“Which we’ll also pursue.”
“IAB isn’t taking my case. Keener’s mine.”
“The Keener homicide’s a direct offshoot of internal corruption and malfeasance, which involves all or most of a squad and spirals out.”
“Which IAB would know nothing about if I hadn’t brought you in. Why is that, Webster? Just why didn’t the rat squad have fuck-all on Renee and her crew?”
“I don’t know. But we have it now.”
“And if she’s got a man inside IAB, and he lets her know a storm’s coming? She’ll poof. She’s got the means to do it in style. Or she’ll find a way to twist it so the lightning strikes another head. She didn’t get this far by being stupid.”
“There’s another body on a slab, Dallas. Dirty cop or not, he’s dead, and she’s responsible. She has to be shut down before she decides to clean house again.”
“He’s right.” Whitney spoke before Eve could snarl at Webster. “And so are you, Dallas. I want both of you, and your captain, Webster, in my office at eleven hundred. He will then be fully briefed on this matter. And we’ll damn well hash it out. On the matter of the two homicides now known to be involved, IAB will have to go through me to yank them from their current investigating officers. You’d be unwise to take me on, Lieutenant.”
He nodded when Webster shook his head.
“I have contacted and fully informed Chief Tibble on all areas of these matters. I will request he attend as well. Lieutenant Dallas, I’ll need you in my office at ten hundred. Commander Oberman has requested some of my time today, and has further requested to meet you.”
“Renee’s asked him to intervene. Commander—”
“Intervention will hardly help Garnet now,” Whitney interrupted. “If he asks me to influence or order you to ease off his daughter regarding the murder of Keener, he will be disappointed.”
Whitney got to his feet. “Ten hundred, Lieutenant.”
“Yes, sir.”
He looked at the screen again. “It’s good work you’ve all done,” he said. “Good work on an ugly business.”
Mira rose. “Would you mind giving me a ride in?”
“Of course.”
She’s worried about him, Eve thought. And she’s not the only one.
She faced the room again. “Dismissed.”
“Hold on, hold on.” Obviously disgusted, Webster shook his head. “You think you can push me out? Get me out of the way before you’re updated by your EDD team and your partner?”
“They have nothing on which to update me. Is that correct?”
“Not a thing,” Feeney said easily.
“They’re having a sale on cashmere sweaters,” Peabody announced. “Not that I can afford one anyway. Naturale—all locations. But that’s probably not what you meant by update.”
Eve gave Webster a cool stare. “It seems we’re done.”
He simply shook his head again, folded his arms.
“If you’d excuse us, Lieutenant Webster and I need a few minutes.”
Feet shuffled. And Roarke continued to lean against the wall. Eve sent him a look that managed to be apologetic and annoyed at the same time. Roarke pushed off the wall.
“Mind your hands, boyo,” he murmured as he passed Webster. “Otherwise, this round I’ll let her have a go at you. And she’s m
eaner than I am.”
Webster rose again, scowled. But stuck his hands in his pockets.
“You’re not cutting me out of this, Dallas.”
“Me, cutting you out? You just stood there and tried to grab my case.”
“Bad cops fall under IAB.”
“Don’t give me your bureaucratic bullshit. If I didn’t expect, and fully understand, that IAB needs to have a hand in this, I wouldn’t have asked for your assist, and you’d still know squat.”
“At which time I played it your way instead of immediately informing my captain. I’m sick to death of this attitude that we’re not cops, not real ones.”
“I never said you weren’t a cop. But you’re sure as hell not Homicide, not anymore. You made your choice there, Webster. You’ve got a job to do. Accepted. So do I, and you’re not making a grab for my investigation.”
“You need the collar? No problem. I’ll make sure you get the credit.”
“I ought to kick your ass for that.” Indeed her hands fisted at her sides. “Fuck you. Fuck you sideways if you think this is about a collar, about credit. If you think—”
“I don’t. I don’t,” he repeated, and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “And that was a cheap shot, Apologies.”
She swore again, paced away. “I could have done this without you.”
“Yeah, and it feels like you are. Give lip service to the rat, but don’t keep feeding him any new cheese.”
She turned back. “What?”
“Why don’t I hear until this morning that Garnet came after you? I don’t hear he got the chance because you’d gone to talk to one of Renee’s people.”
“Lilah Strong isn’t one of her people.”
“She’s in the squad,” he reminded her, “and I should’ve been consulted on it. I didn’t hear until this morning there’s a tail on you. I didn’t hear about Garnet.”
“I informed the commander,” she began.
“Now who’s bullshitting?”
“It’s not bullshit. That’s my first duty. And I didn’t contact you at every turn because you were . . . involved, in the thing. Darcia.”
“Now you’ve got a problem with me and Darcia?”
“No. God.” Frustrated, she raked her hand through her hair. “I wasn’t holding out on you. I didn’t contact my own partner because I didn’t deem it necessary. I didn’t contact you, same reason, and also because I thought I was doing you a solid. Giving you the night to ... to go to the theater. The musical theater.”
He stared at her for a moment, then his body lost its fighting stance. “I guess you were, doing me that solid. It’s appreciated. But I’m a cop, and so’s Darcia. You know interruptions of... musical theater are part of the deal.”
“What would you, or could you, have done about any of it, if so interrupted?”
“Nothing, really. But I’d have had it worked out in my head better, been clearer on the lay of the land.”
“Fine, I’ll interrupt you next time. And if you’re in the middle of the big production number, it’ll be your own fault.”
He laughed. “I always had a thing for you.”
“Oh, for—”
“Not that way, not that way.” Cautiously, he took a step back. “Don’t punch me, or call out the dogs. I worked with you a few times, and I like the way your mind works. Even when I don’t agree. I like how you can chomp at a case until you spit it out, your way. You’re a hard-ass, Dallas, but that’s one of the reasons for the thing. You weren’t much of a team player back the couple times we worked the same cases.”
Maybe not, she thought. No, definitely not. “I wasn’t in command. Command changes things because your men depend on you to head that team. I wasn’t ... a lot of things for a lot of reasons.”
She thought of walking with Roarke on a summer evening. “I’m not the same person now I was then.”
“No. I guess I’m not either.” He held out a hand. “Bygones?”
“It depends.” She took his hand. “If you go after my case, I’ll take this hand again. And I’ll break it off at the wrist.”
He grinned at her. “Go, team.”
“I’m going to trust you, because I’ve gone through doors with you before. If you want to stay for the rest of the briefing, take a seat. I’ll be right back.”
“No, but I appreciate it. I’ve got things to do before we meet with the commander.”
“I’ll see you then.”
She walked to Roarke’s office, opened the door, shut it behind her. “Thanks for the space.”
“You’re welcome. And?”
“We worked it out. Mostly a combination of parallel but not quite meshing goals and a misunderstanding of motivations.” She went to his AutoChef for coffee. Closed her eyes, rubbed the space between her eyebrows.
“Take a minute, Eve. Sit.”
“Better not. I need to get this briefing finished, shut down for some thinking time. Then gear up for these meetings. Christ—Oberman, Tibble, and IAB.” She opened her eyes again. “It’s going to be a rough morning.”
“You’ve already had one.” He moved to her to gently rub that spot between her eyebrows himself.
“Opened him up, ear to ear. He was dead before he hit the floor. Fast, fast way to go, and he’d earned slow and painful, in my book. And even so, it’s not up to her to decide who lives, who dies. How. When. It’s not her call.”
Because she wasn’t who she’d been before, she laid her aching brow on his shoulder. “He’d probably have done the same—to Renee, to me, to whoever. Odds are he walked in there thinking he’d be opening me up, ear to ear. He was an open, festering wound on the department.”
She straightened again.
“And Keener? Maybe harmless in the big scheme, maybe he gave his pizza server a nice tip when he was flush. But he lived his life on junk, and peddling it. I don’t imagine he’d have had a quibble if the buyer was twelve, as long as the kid had the scratch. He was a pig, looking for the easy way in and the easy way out.”
She drank some coffee, set it aside. “But none of that matters. Festering wound, pig, she doesn’t get to decide.”
Roarke cupped her face. “He’d have killed you if he could, and enjoyed it. Another cop may be primary on his murder, but Garnet’s yours now.”
“That’s just the way it is.”
“For you, yes. That’s why Renee Oberman will never understand you.”
“I understand her.”
“Yes, I know you do.” He kissed her lightly. “Let’s get this done.”
With a nod she walked to the door connecting their offices.
17
EVE LISTENED TO HER E-MEN EXPLAIN, IN their way, McNab’s idea for a tap and trace. She listened until her ears began to ring.
She waved a hand in the air to cut off the geek-fest. “Bottom line. If you can do this, we’d have Renee’s disposable—incoming and outgoings on record.”
“Bottom line,” Feeney agreed. “But that doesn’t credit the juice in the concept or execution—and this one’s loaded with it.”
“Kudos all around. If you can take it from concept to execution, we need a warrant.”
Feeney puffed out his cheeks. “Yeah, that would be a little hitch. We’ve got enough for one, Dallas, starting with Peabody’s statement, going right on through your meet with Renee, the financials, the tail last night to dead Garnet. It’s your call whether we go there. IAB could work one.”
Her call, she thought, and every decision angled off another path. “I’ll get the warrant and inform IAB—after you’ve pulled off your juicy concept. I’ll need to meet with Reo,” she said, thinking of the ADA she trusted. “And before I meet with the commander again. Privately meet with her. Peabody—”
“Oh man, you want me to tag Crack again.”
“Him, then Reo. Tell her to meet me there in thirty. Say it’s urgent and confidential. You know what to do.”
“Yeah,” Peabody said on a sigh.
“
Roarke, Peabody’s going to need a vehicle.”
“I am? Aren’t I with you? You need me for Reo, then, Dallas, I should be with you for the meet with Commander Oberman, to push with you with IAB.”
“No. I’ve got your statement for Reo. Dealing with Commander Oberman and IAB, that’s my job. You need to pursue your investigation. You need to stand for Detective Devin, Peabody. You need to get justice for her, and that’s what you’ll do. I have every confidence that’s what you’ll do.”
“I’m not even sure I’m going down the right roads,” Peabody began.
“You’ll find out.” She glanced at Roarke, and he nodded.
“I’ll see to the vehicle. Feeney, why don’t I meet you and McNab in the lab here? I’ll be right along.”
McNab gave Peabody a quick, supportive shoulder squeeze before he went out with his captain.
“Don’t give her anything flashy,” Eve called out to Roarke.
“Maybe just . . .” Peabody held up her thumb and forefinger, a half inch apart.
Roarke sent her a wink and left them alone.
Eve pointed Peabody to a chair, then walked to the buffet, poured coffee.
“You brought me coffee.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
“It’s usually my job.”
“Because I’m the lieutenant.” Eve sat. “I pulled you into Homicide because I looked at you, and I thought, that’s a cop. Solid, a little green, but solid. And I could help her be a better cop. I have.”
Peabody stared into her coffee, said nothing.
“You have a cop’s work to do for Devin. I put that in your hands because, well, I’m the lieutenant. I have to know my men—their strengths, weaknesses, style. I have to know them, and I have to trust them to do the job. Or I haven’t done mine.”
Eve sipped her coffee, considered her words. “Meetings like I’ve got set up? That’s cop work, too, but it’s the drag of command, Peabody. It’s the politics and deal making, the pissing contests. It has to be done, and I have to do it.”