by J. D. Robb
“If you’d take your seat.” Roarke handled the outburst as he would at any meeting he conducted. Coolly. “You’ll be thoroughly briefed on this matter, and all others pertaining to these investigations. The lieutenant isn’t assigned to this last murder, but consulting with the officers who are—at their request.
“Now, as I have the floor, we’ll begin with some progress I made regarding the finances of three of the subjects. Data one on-screen,” he ordered, and the image of Garnet’s passport, with photo, came on.
“As you see, this is Detective William Garnet, aka Garnet Jacoby. Though they’re both dead now, it’s of interest that Garnet, under this assumed name, has amassed over thirty-five million dollars in cash, stocks, bonds, and property. He has quite a lovely home in the Canary Islands. Had, that is. Data two with image, on-screen.”
“How did you dig this out?” Webster asked him. “You never tagged me for a filter.”
“Carefully, tediously, and within the law. Barely,” Roarke added, “but within, as the lieutenant ordered and expected.”
“We could’ve hung him out to dry on this,” Webster muttered as his angry gaze scanned the screen, the image of the lavish house, the numbers. “Out to fucking dry.”
“A bit late on that. However, if you’d prefer we can move on, come back to this. It might improve your mood to see another stream of data. One-A, on-screen. Meet Marcia Anbrome, currently of Sardinia, Italy.”
“Oh yeah.” Though he said it between his teeth, and his face hardened further, Webster nodded. “That improves my mood.”
“Maybe the idea of taking her down on graft, on corruption brightens your day, Lieutenant,” Peabody said as she swung around. “But she’s killed cops. Not all of them were like Garnet. They’re dead because they weren’t like Garnet.”
“Understood, Detective. We all want the same thing here.”
“Detective Peabody.” Roarke’s tone was more gentle than the one he’d used on Webster. “I understand you’re pursuing a side investigation on the death of Detective Gail Devin. It might aid you in that investigation to know that Renee Oberman—as Marcia Anbrome—deposited two-point-eight million USD in her account two days after the operation in which Devin was killed. Garnet also made a large deposit at the same time. One-point-two. As did Bix, under his assumed identification.”
The hell with the screen, Roarke thought. He had all of it in his head. “As John Barry, Bix holds accounts in Montana—where he’s also purchased a cabin and fifty acres—in the Philippines, where he was once stationed while in the Army, and in Tokyo, where he was born. While we began with these three, we’re working through the squad. I have Freeman, Palmer, and Marcell complete. I should have the others within hours.”
“You’ll need to add Doctor Addams to your list.” Mira sat, hands folded in her lap. “As I’ve already informed the commander, in reviewing all the case files, testing results, evaluations, and history of each member of Lieutenant Oberman’s squad, I’ve found troubling inconsistencies, and what on closer study appear to be amended results in those squad members Doctor Addams examined, tested, or treated.”
“Of course.” No point in telling her he’d already added her colleague, already found some of the pots the man had buried.
“Detective Peabody,” Mira continued. “You should be aware that a few weeks before Detective Devin’s death, Lieutenant Oberman, according to Doctor Addams’s notes, expressed concern about Devin’s state of mind, citing the detective had difficulty focusing on her work, adhering to procedure, took excessive personal time. Addams arranged for sessions with Detective Devin. He saw her twice a week for seven weeks, until the time of her death.”
“She would have trusted him.”
“She may have come to, yes,” Mira agreed.
“If she did, she could have told him she thought something was off in the squad, and why. What she was going to do about it.”
“It’s possible.” The fatigue on Mira’s face deepened. “If she did, I believe Addams was certainly complicit in her death.”
Eve came in, her strides long and brisk. “Apologies for the delay.” She glanced at the screen, nodded. “I see you’ve been briefed on the financial angles. This gives us proof Renee, Garnet, and Bix procured false identification and with that hid property and funds.”
“Add Freeman, Palmer, and Marcell,” Roarke told her. “Others to come.”
“Good. This alone is enough to remove them from the force, to arrest them, charge them, try and convict them. We have to take Garnet out of that process as I’ve just come from examining his body, but the data on him weighs on all involved.”
“I’d like a report on Garnet’s homicide,” Whitney said.
“Sir. Detective Janburry is primary, and with his partner, Detective Delfino, is investigating. The detective contacted me, allowed me on scene. At which time I gave them a statement regarding both my altercations with the victim.”
“What do you mean ‘both’?” Webster asked.
“The second occurred at approximately twenty-two hundred last night when Garnet confronted me outside the gates of my home—where he had lain in wait for my return. My assumption is he was informed I left the residence by Detective Manford and/or Freeman who attempted a two-point tail on me some ninety minutes earlier.”
“What the hell is this, Dallas? Why wasn’t I kept informed?”
“You were busy,” she snapped at Webster. “And you’re being so informed. My altercation with Garnet is on record, and that record and my report on same was given to my commander.”
She paused a moment. “Moving on. Detective Garnet entered the building where Keener was killed at one this morning, breaking the seal, bypassing the locks. Or his killer did so and left the master on him. About six paces in the door, Garnet was attacked from behind. His throat was slit. There were no other visible injuries other than the bruises I put on his face at approximately twenty-two hundred.”
“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 meaner 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 d
uty. 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.”