Treachery in Death

by J. D. Robb

  “The lieutenant has just given me a solid suggestion on just that.”

  “We’ll talk about it, after we’re done with IAB. We’ll talk about that, work on that, and we will goddamn deal with that because she’s not going to take any part of this department down with her. You take her down,” he said to Eve in a tone that told her he’d prefer to do it himself. With his bare hands.

  “You take her down hard. Hard enough she can’t get up again. I don’t want her limping away from this, turning it so the department takes more hits.”

  “That’s my intention, Chief Tibble.”

  “Make it your mission in life,” he snapped, then turned to Whitney. “We’ll handle the fallout. Goddamn it, Jack, how the hell does a woman like this get rank, get power, get a free fucking pass?”

  Before Whitney could speak, Tibble waved a hand in the air, spun away. He stalked to the window, stood staring out, his hands linked behind his back.

  “I should know. I’ve had her in my office. I’ve entertained her along with her parents in my own home. My own home,” he said more quietly. “I’ve probably given her a few of those free passes myself. Goddamn it. Lieutenant Dallas, did Renee Oberman order the assassination of police officers?”

  “I believe she did, sir.”

  He whirled around, led with absolute fury. “I don’t want your beliefs. You prove it. You prove it so the PA can take it to a jury without a reasonable doubt. Your beliefs mean nothing in a court of law, and without—”

  “Chief Tibble.” Whitney moved until he stood between Eve and the chief. “Renee Oberman is under my command, and her actions have taken place under my watch.”

  “When I want you to throw yourself on your sword, I’ll tell you. This department can’t afford to lose you, and I’m damned if Renee Oberman will cause us to shed more blood. But I know it’s taken a Homicide lieutenant and a dead junkie to bring you and me, IAB, and God Himself into the light on this. That’s a hell of a thing.”

  “Chief Tibble,” Eve began, “it was, in fact, my partner overhearing the damning conversation between—”

  “Don’t interrupt me when I’m complimenting your work, Lieutenant, and blowing off steam I need to finish blowing off before dealing with IAB.”

  “Sir.”

  He pressed his fingers to his eyes briefly. “Your partner did well, Lieutenant, as did you. As have you, Commander. We’re going to make damn sure at the end of the day that outbalances a corrupt cop and a blemished squad.”

  He stopped when IAB’s arrival was announced.

  “Let’s go with pecking order, Jack. Let me take the wheel first. Lieutenant, have a seat.”

  Apparently, Eve thought, the steam had blown as now Tibble stood, cool and contained, as Webster and his captain entered.

  “Captain, Lieutenant. Be seated. Here,” he said when they had, “is how we want this to go.”

  He laid it out concisely, reasonably, and in a tone that said this was already so. Eve admired the style, particularly since she’d just finished being singed by the furnace blast of his temper.

  She would continue to head the investigation into Keener’s death, providing reports and data to IAB, who would, in turn, keep her apprised of all actions and progress in their internal investigations relating to Oberman.

  There was debate, disagreement, but it was clear to Eve that Tibble had the controls. A good general, she thought, looks at the whole battlefield—and the ground beyond—then chooses where and how to fight.

  “IAB’s investigation of Renee Oberman and the others involved with her remains essential, necessary, and will have every assist, every cooperation from my office, the commander’s, from Lieutenant Dallas and her people. But the murder of police officers, and civilians, outweighs even that.”

  “The murder of police officers is part of IAB’s investigation,” Webster pointed out.

  “Which is why this has to be a coordinated effort. You agree, Commander?”

  “Unquestionably.”

  “Lieutenant Dallas?” Tibble asked.

  “Absolutely, sir. The fact is, my team and our investigation have made considerable progress on the officer-involved homicides. I received an update from my partner on that end a short time ago, and have not yet updated the commander or passed that information to IAB. I’d like permission to do so if we’re all agreed on how these matters will proceed. Otherwise, I would be obliged to follow the letter of procedure, reporting only to my commander and leaving it to him what information he deems proper to relate to Internal Affairs.”

  “Don’t get slippery, Dallas,” Webster warned.

  “Don’t get greedy, Webster.”

  Before he could snap back at her, his captain shot him a warning look. “There are points all around. While we may not be on the same page, I think we all want this book to close the same way. IAB will cooperate, stipulating that if any information regarding any other officer is uncovered during the outside investigation, we are given that information. No surveillance, no e-track, no meets involving any tentacle of these investigations takes place without IAB knowledge.”

  Tibble kept his face neutral, turned to Whitney. “Commander?”

  “Agreed. Lieutenant Dallas, your report.”

  “Detective Peabody interviewed Detective Gail Devin’s mother this morning. Mrs. Devin has been resistant to speaking with the police on any matter, and particularly about the death of her daughter in the line of duty. As you know, Commander, Peabody has a way of softening hard lines. Through her efforts, Mrs. Devin allowed Peabody to take a collection of what appear to be music discs. All of Devin’s possessions are now with her mother and have been held there. We’re aware Devin suspected her lieutenant of something from previous statements already shared with IAB through Lieutenant Webster. Peabody’s assessment is Devin was an organized cop, a detailer, a sharp observer—which we believe led to the order for her execution. Peabody believes, and I agree, it’s very likely Devin kept a record of observations, a record she would have been smart enough to hide until such time that she felt justified in reporting those observations, or had proven her suspicions.”

  “Music discs?” Webster repeated, but Eve saw him calculating.

  “Lieutenant Oberman sent two men to toss Keener’s place the morning after his death, when she learned the case had fallen to me and was being pursued. If she worried enough about Devin to order the hit, she sure as hell found a way to search Devin’s apartment, her electronics.”

  “And may very well have found, taken, and destroyed any documents or files,” the IAB captain commented.

  “May have. But Peabody believes Devin was smart enough not to have anything on her comp, on her ’link, in an obvious file. A collection of music discs, ordered and in plain sight, could easily have been ignored. Maybe you check out a couple, then move on. Peabody is—or has by now—transported them to my home office, which is set as HQ—for examination and analysis.”

  “Even if Devin made a secret record of her suspicions, they’re still suspicions,” Webster pointed out.

  “It goes to pattern, to motive. Leave the homicide investigating to me. It’s what I do. We can and will build a case against her, for Devin, for Strumb, for Keener, even for Garnet.”

  Eve shifted so she spoke more directly to Whitney. “Commander, it’s my opinion she’s had relatively smooth sailing in her little venture, all this time. She’s had damn good luck, and she’s got skills along with the power of her father’s name. And she got cocky—she mishandled Garnet, and had been mishandling him for a while. She didn’t play him right because she simply got used to having him dance when she said dance. She’s more lucky than smart,” Eve continued. “Cop smart,” she amended. “She’s ridden on Daddy’s coattails whenever possible—and that’s something she resents. She does it, resents it, so she has to keep reaching for more. You’ve got her from Mira, that’s how she’s made.

  “Garnet not only slapped back at her authority, he turned on her, and he cau
sed her embarrassment, caused her to lose a round with me. She ordered him gone as much for pride and revenge as expediency.”

  “How does that connect to Devin?” Webster insisted.

  “Jesus, Webster, you haven’t been out of murder that long.”

  The impatience burning through only added impact to her theory.

  “It’s how she deals when she wants to shed a problem—and when the problem touches something personal. Devin, female, questioning her—or asking questions about her. Pushing where Renee didn’t want her pushing. Devin’s mentor is a vet, a retired cop—who was on the squad when Renee took over. He didn’t like her, and he transferred.”

  “Allo,” Webster said. “Detective-Sergeant Samuel.”

  “Yeah. She’d know Devin was talking to him. Devin’s trouble, and isn’t falling in line or transferring out even with bogus crappy evals. Peabody may find more, something specific, the hair on the camel’s back—”

  “Straw.” Webster smiled a little. “It’s the straw that broke the camel’s back.”

  “What would a camel do with a straw? Whatever. Renee needed Devin gone, she made her gone. We’ll find the same with Strumb. It’s pattern. She ordered Bix to do Keener. Could’ve scared a weasel like him off, but that’s not enough for her. Dead means safe. And he can’t screw with her, her plans, her tidy system. Dead, they’re out of the equation.”

  Eve got to her feet. “Commander, I’d like to get back to work, with your permission, and trust you to work out any further details on coordinating with Internal Affairs. Commander Oberman will have had sufficient time, I believe, to speak to her.”

  “Commander Oberman,” Webster began.

  “A moment, Lieutenant, and you’ll be apprised. Permission granted, Lieutenant Dallas.”

  “Thank you, sir. Chief, Captain, Lieutenant.”

  “Is it permissible to ask where you’re going?” Webster asked.

  “I’m going to kick more dirt in Renee Oberman’s face,” Eve told him. “It’s the fun part of the job.”

  And looking forward to it, she went out, closed the door.

  19

  THEY WORE BLACK ARMBANDS IN LIEUTENANT Oberman’s squad. Other than that, as far as Eve could see, it was business as usual. Then again, the mood here struck her as depressing in any case.

  As usual, Renee’s blinds shuttered her window and the glass of her closed door.

  Eve’s glance flicked over Lilah Strong, just long enough for their eyes to meet. Then she moved directly to the lieutenant’s door.

  “The boss isn’t available.”

  Eve turned to Bix. She’d been hoping for a confrontation there, but hadn’t expected it to be so easy. “Were you speaking to me, Detective?”

  “The lieutenant isn’t available.”

  “As you are addressing a superior, Detective, that would be, ‘The lieutenant isn’t available, sir.’”

  “Sir.” He kept his seat, his eyes cold as a shark’s. “Lieutenant Oberman’s orders are she is not to be disturbed at this time. We lost one of our own last night.”

  “I’m aware of the loss, Detective—Bix, isn’t it?”

  “That’s right.”

  “That’s right, sir.”

  “Sir.”

  “You partnered with Detective Garnet?”

  “When so assigned by my lieutenant.”

  Eve waited a beat. “And it appears you share his difficulty in showing the respect due to superiors. Or is that a theme that runs through this squad? As I hold the opinion the boss sets the tone, this gives me cause to wonder if Lieutenant Oberman has difficulty showing respect to superiors.”

  “You’re not her superior.”

  Eve took a step closer to his desk, well aware the focus of the room had narrowed on them. “You want a pissing contest with me, Bix? Then get on your feet for it. On your feet, Detective,” she ordered when he didn’t move.

  He started to rise, slowly. His face never changed—cold eyes, hard jaw. She wondered what it would take to goad him into taking a shot at her. Just one shot, she thought, and she’d have his badge, threaten Renee with a full disciplinary review, and send her squad into chaos.

  The door behind her burst open—and told her one of the things she wanted to know. Renee had the squad room monitored from her office.

  “Dallas. I don’t appreciate you coming into my squad and harassing my men.”

  “Is that what I’m doing?” Eve kept her eyes on Bix as she spoke. “Do you consider it harassment to expect and demand respect due rank? Your men are a disgrace.”

  “In my office!”

  Now Eve turned, and her tone brought winter into the room. “I don’t take orders from you, Oberman. You’re on the edge of having me file a formal complaint against you, against this detective, and requesting a full review of your command.”

  Angry color slashed across Renee’s cheekbones. “I would prefer to discuss your grievances in the privacy of my office.”

  “Sure,” Eve said, and strolled inside. She had to fight a satisfied smile when the door slammed.

  And it was just plain fun to see, even with the heels Renee wore, that she retained the advantage of height. She tried a Summerset-style look down her nose.

  “Who the hell do you think you are? Coming into my squad, threatening me, abusing my men? Do you think because you’re Central’s golden girl you can come here, aim and fire at me? Today of all days. You bitch, I lost a man last night—and you want to talk to me about respect? Where the hell is yours?”

  “Are you finished?” Eve said smoothly. “Or do you have more?”

  “I don’t like you.”

  “Ouch.”

  “I don’t like your attitude, your interference, or your habit of muscling in on my command. You’re not the only one who can file a formal complaint.”

  “Be my guest. I think we both know, especially since Dad’s no longer in the chair, who’d come out on top on that one. Speaking of your father ...” Eve glanced at the portrait. “It was a pleasure meeting him earlier.”

  “Fuck you.”

  This time she didn’t bother to control it, and just laughed. “Wow! That really stings. Now, do you want to keep shooting your spitballs, or do you want to get down to it?”

  “I’ve already wasted more than enough time on you.”

  “Oh boy, I have to say right back at you. However, I actually make it a policy to do my job, even when it’s annoying. I’m here regarding Garnet. I see you’ve been informed of his death as you’re decked out in mourning black. Nice suit, by the way.”

  Renee’s withering stare only gladdened Eve’s heart. “I’ll be documenting your sarcasm and disrespect toward a fallen officer.”

  “Document your ass off. It has yet to be determined if he went down in the line, and in fact is leaning hard otherwise. And that’s not considering he was on suspension at the time of his death. It’s further not considering he’d have certainly lost his badge and faced criminal charges had he lived.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Well, gee, I’d say I guess you didn’t get the memo, except we both know otherwise.” Eve pulled a disc out of her pocket, tossed it on Renee’s desk. “That’s a recording from my home security that clearly shows Garnet ambushing me at the gates to my home, threatening me, striking me, and drawing his weapon on me with clear intent.

  “Your man was rabid and rogue, Renee, a fact I have no doubt you and your father discussed quite recently. No wonder you’re in such a bad mood.”

  “What my father and I discuss is none of your business.”

  “On the contrary, you’ve made it mine. You went crying to Daddy about mean old Lieutenant Dallas, and it backfired on you. Instead of disciplining your detective for his behavior, you took steps to attempt to sweep it under the rug. And that detective, fully aware you would not and did not discipline him, escalated into drawing down on a fellow officer—with an unregistered weapon. He’d been using when he did it, and i
t will very likely be determined he’d been using when he died.”

  “I—”

  “I’m not done,” Eve snapped. “If you don’t immediately request and recommend a random test for your squad for illegals, I will—with cause.”

  “What do you know about Illegals work?” Renee demanded. “Garnet had been under a great deal of pressure the last weeks. He’d been working on a lead on the Giraldi case, and it fizzled on him. He’d been working to revive it when you showed up here, pushing your weight around.”

  “I fail to follow how my coming to you over your dead weasel somehow incited Garnet to abuse illegals, threaten me, and end up dead.”

  “He was on the edge. I was fully aware of his problems and had discussed them with him. I wanted him to take some time off, get some counseling—and he asked for more time, asked to have a couple more weeks on Giraldi. I gave it to him, and I believe he was making progress on it, and on his personal problems, until you insisted on the suspension.”

  “It’s amazing,” Eve said in sincere wonder. “Really, it is. You can justify the outrageous, even criminal behavior of your detective, and consider my actions in response not only as unfair but as a contributing factor. Your man was a fuckup, a dangerous fuckup. Now he’s a dead fuckup. You bear some weight there, and how you deal with that’s on you.

  “One thing I know,” Eve continued, “is in a couple of days you’ve lost a weasel and a detective. Since I do know how Homicide works, I’ll be actively pursuing that connection.”

  “It’s obvious Bill was using Keener,” Renee said wearily. “I don’t know why he didn’t tell me. I know he wanted to prove himself to me since I’d made my concerns known, and he was on notice. Whatever he’d been able to tap out of Keener, or whoever Keener had tried to tap, got Keener killed. Bill followed that up, searching Keener’s flop, then—it certainly seems apparent—arranging a meet at the location where Keener had gone to ground, had died. And that cost Bill his life.”

  “That’d be nice and tidy. Except for the fact that you had a detective out there pursuing leads, taking actions that don’t show up in his reports or case files—or in those of the detective working with him on the case. Or in yours.”