Treachery in Death edahr-40

by J. D. Robb

“And being cops they’re speculating,” Eve added. “And laying money on various scenarios.”

  He flushed a little. “It’s very possible, Lieutenant.”

  “Get the word out I consider speculation the natural order of things, and would be shocked, Officer, shocked and appalled to discover gambling was going on in my bullpen.”

  He gave her a sober nod, spoiled a little by his struggle to control a grin. “Yes, sir, Lieutenant.”

  “I can be contacted, but only on urgent matters, for the next two hours. Understood?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Dismissed.”

  Alone, she stood a moment, finishing her coffee and studying her board. When her ’link signaled, she saw Peabody on the display.

  “Dallas.”

  “I think I might have something,” Peabody began.

  Eve switched her to privacy mode and took the communication on the way to Whitney’s office.

  Whitney opened the door personally. There were new lines dug into his face, she noted, more gray threaded through his hair than there had been even a few days before.

  Command, she thought, could be a harsh master.

  “Lieutenant.”

  “Sir.”

  He gestured her into his office with its wide windows to the city he was sworn to protect.

  Commander Marcus Oberman stood in front of one of them—tall, sturdy in his serious gray suit and steel blue tie. He’d let his hair go white, kept it shorn short, military style. Command had left its mark on him as well, but he remained a handsome man, striking and fit at eighty-six.

  “Commander Oberman,” Whitney said, “Lieutenant Dallas.”

  “Lieutenant.” Oberman extended his hand. “I appreciate you taking the time to come in to meet with me. I understand the value of your time.”

  “It’s an honor, Commander.”

  “And for me. You have an impressive reputation. Your commander speaks highly of you.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Can we sit?” Oberman asked, deferring to Whitney.

  “Please.” Whitney gestured to chairs.

  Oberman took one. “You were barely out of the Academy when I retired from this office,” Oberman began, “but I’ve followed some of your investigations in the media, and heard the buzz at the trough where we old warhorses gather.”

  He smiled when he said it, the bright blue eyes he’d passed to his daughter friendly on hers. But Eve felt herself being summed up.

  She had no quibble with that, as she did the same with him.

  “Of course, now with the success of Nadine Furst’s book, your work on the Icove case is well documented. It’s been good for the department, wouldn’t you agree, Jack, the interest in that case? How it was pursued, investigated, and closed?”

  “I would.”

  “From what I’m told and, observed, Lieutenant, you’ve butted heads with fellow officers during the course of investigations.”

  “I’m sure that’s accurate, Commander.”

  His smile widened. “If you’re not butting heads now and then, you’re not doing the job—in my opinion.”

  He leaned back in the chair. Taking the formal out, Eve judged, as she had with Trueheart.

  “It takes confidence, even bullheadedness, as well as training, talent, dedication to stick with the job, and to move up the ranks. I understand you and my daughter are butting heads at the moment.”

  “I regret if Lieutenant Oberman sees it that way.”

  He nodded, his gaze pinned on hers. Still cop’s eyes, Eve thought. Shrewd, probing, the sort that could peel away the layers and expose what was hiding beneath.

  “Your commander will attest to the fact I don’t make a habit of interfering with departmental business. I no longer have the chair, and hold nothing but respect for the man who does.”

  “Yes, sir, as do I.”

  “But a father is a father, Lieutenant, and from that job no man retires. I expect you and Lieutenant Oberman would have some certain friction between you as you are different types, have different work styles. But you’re both still ranked officers of the NYPSD.”

  “Absolutely understood, Commander.”

  “I hadn’t intended to become involved in this situation, in any way.” He lifted his hands, spread them. “Even when I had the chair, I believed my officers should settle their own differences.”

  Daddy refusing to grease the wheels? Eve thought. That had to chap Renee’s ass. “Yes, sir. I agree.”

  “I reconsidered this only after learning early this morning that one of my daughter’s men had gone down. The officer who was at the center of the friction.”

  “It’s very regrettable Detective Garnet lost his life, sir.”

  “Every man lost can and does affect us all, but most particularly his commanding officers. You’ve lost men under your command, Lieutenant.”

  “Yes, sir.” She could list their names. She knew their faces.

  “It’s my hope, Lieutenant, that given these new and tragic circumstances, you will agree to expunge the mark you placed on the fallen officer’s record. Deservedly placed,” he added. “But I would reach out to you now on this, for Lieutenant Oberman and her man.”

  “No, sir. I regret I’m unable to accommodate you on this matter.”

  He sat back, obviously taken by surprise. “It’s so important to you, Lieutenant, that this rip stands? On a dead man?”

  “Dead or alive, he earned it. I apologize to the father, sir, but hope the commander who held this chair, and who served this department honorably for more years than I’ve been alive, will accept my stand when I say Detective Garnet’s lieutenant, present throughout that incident, did not intervene. Did not control the situation.”

  “Are you directing the rip at Garnet or his lieutenant?”

  “I’m not in the position to discipline his lieutenant. Respectfully, sir, I will not expunge his suspension. And in fact have already begun procedures that will result, I believe, in his expulsion from the force. Posthumously.”

  “That is a harsh stance. A harsh line.”

  “Yes, sir, it is. You may not be aware, Commander, that last evening Detective Garnet came to my home, did in fact lie in wait at my home. He attempted to assault me. Did, in fact, make physical contact. Did, in fact, draw his weapon.”

  “No.” Oberman’s face went to stone. “I was not aware. I was not apprised.”

  “The incident is on record, sir, and was reported immediately after it occurred. I believe Lieutenant Oberman will have been made aware of it.”

  She waited just a beat to let that little gem shine.

  “Detective Garnet’s death is regrettable, Commander, but it is my opinion he didn’t deserve his rank, his badge. I will continue to do whatever I can to see he’s stripped of them. His death doesn’t make him any less of a bad cop.”

  “No, it does not. I withdraw my request, Lieutenant Dallas. And I apologize for making it.”

  “No apology necessary, sir.”

  Eve rose as he did.

  “I’ll let you, both of you, get back to your work. Thank you, Commander Whitney, for giving me the time. And you, Lieutenant.”

  “It was an honor to meet you, sir.”

  As Whitney led Oberman to the door, the former commander paused, turned back to Eve. “Do you believe Garnet’s death comes out of the murder of this Keener?”

  “I’m not working Garnet’s case, sir, but am cooperating and will continue to cooperate fully with the officers assigned to that investigation.”

  “I see.” He looked at her for a long moment, then walked out without another word.

  “He’s embarrassed.” Whitney closed the door. “Angry and embarrassed to have put himself in this position. And there’s a place in him now, twisting inside as he wonders, worries, considers what position his daughter might be in.”

  “Yes, sir,” Eve agreed. “It’s going to be worse for him, and soon.”

  And as Whitney walked to the wi
ndow to look out at his city, Eve understood he, too, was angry and embarrassed.

  “All the years he gave this job, this city. All the years he sat in command. All the work he put into helping rebuild and reform this department after the Urbans? And his name will always carry this.”

  “Her name.”

  Whitney shook his head as he turned back. “You don’t have children, Dallas. It will always be his name. And it will always be his shame.”

  She waited until Whitney returned to his desk, sat heavily behind it.

  “Permission to speak freely, sir.”

  “So given.”

  “I can’t and won’t say that none of this will fall on you. You’re in command, so it will. But I can and will say you’re not responsible.”

  “Being in command makes me responsible.”

  “No, sir. Taking responsibility and being responsible aren’t always the same thing. You’ll take it because you’d never do otherwise. But Renee Oberman is responsible, and in a way that’s deeply unfair, so is her father. His name and his reputation, the awe he inspires, allowed her room, inclined some to turn a blind eye, influenced others to go along.”

  “Including me?”

  “I can’t answer that, Commander. But I know when I brought this to you, you didn’t turn a blind eye or give her room. You acted as a commander, because you’d never do otherwise. And you acted, knowing full well what would fall on you. You could’ve done it differently.”

  Obviously intrigued, he sat back. “How so?”

  “You could’ve found a way to get her off the job. You could’ve found a way to pressure her off, to keep it internal, to weed out her squad. And, sir, you could have covered it up. Kept it inside, called on the blue line. Dead man’s just a junkie. Sure, cops are dead, but you can’t bring them back.”

  She paused a moment, watching his face. “You probably considered it, weighed it out, for about five minutes. You could’ve made it work—I can see how you could’ve made it work. But you’d never take that out. Because you’re in command. Because you’re a cop, sir, and you’ll never be anything else.”

  He pressed his palms together, tapped his index fingers on his chin. “You assume you know me, Lieutenant.”

  “I do know you, Commander.” She thought of what Peabody had said to her. “I have had the opportunity to study some of your work as a detective, as you moved up the ranks. I have studied and observed your methods and manner since I’ve served under you. I respect how you sit the chair.”

  “Do you consider how you might do the same? How you might sit this chair one day?”

  “That’s a terrifying thought.”

  She made him laugh. He rose, walked to the AutoChef. And sighed. “Christ, I wish I had some of your coffee.”

  “I can have some sent up.”

  He shook his head, made do with what he had—then brought her a cup, once again reminding her of her earlier session with Peabody.

  “Sit down, Dallas. Tibble will be here any minute, and IAB will be right behind him. We’re going to stick there, you and I, not only in your proprietary role in the Keener homicide, but in your integral role in the Oberman investigation. I believe Tibble will agree. If not, we’ll convince him.”

  “Yes, sir, we will. Commander ... contact Nadine Furst.”

  He lifted his eyebrows, said nothing.

  “She will agree to and proceed by stipulations of timing, off-the-record statements, of confidentiality. She won’t release anything until you give her the green.”

  “You want me to use her to spin this off me?”

  “Not precisely, sir, no. Nadine likes to get her teeth in red meat as much as any reporter. She’s just better at seeing the real story—not just the jazz that pulls ratings. That’s why, I think, she pulls them. She digs for the truth, not just the juice. I know we have our PR people, media liaisons, mouthpieces, but in my opinion, she’s worth ten of them.”

  He nodded slowly, watching her now. “Go on.”

  “Sir. Renee Oberman’s actions will hurt the department once they become public. More, they’ll hurt the public as cage doors will certainly open. I see the value in using whatever is at our disposal to minimize that damage. With truth. Corruption existed. When uncovered it was ruthlessly, systematically, and unhesitatingly cut out.”

  “I’ll consider it.”

  “Sir . . .”

  “You’re still in the speak freely zone, Dallas.”

  “Go on her show. You, the chief if he’ll agree. Me, Peabody. Especially Peabody. The situation she was in, the actions she took, who she is, will play well.” Eve pushed, hard, surprising herself how fiercely she wanted to convince him. “A good cop—a young female detective trapped in a deadly situation—who turned that and spearheaded the exposure of corruption, of murder and treachery.

  “We’re the blue line, sir, and that will resonate on-screen. But Peabody is the face, the very human element. And she would symbolize who we are, contrast sharply against what Renee Oberman is.”

  He rubbed his chin, and his lips curved a little above his fingers. “You can carve out an angle like that, an excellent angle, and believe the idea of your ass in the chair someday down the road is terrifying?” He waved off her response before she could make it. “I should have thought of it myself, should have thought it through exactly that way. I’ll contact Furst.”

  Something inside her unknotted. “Thank you, sir.”

  “Don’t thank me. I’m wondering why I haven’t assigned you to Media and PR.”

  “Because, sir, I hope I’ve done nothing to deserve that kind of punishment.”

  Both he and Eve rose when Whitney’s admin announced Chief Tibble.

  He was dark, long, and lean, and wore a suit well. A good look, Eve knew, for media conferences and screen time. But there was considerably more under the surface.

  He studied Eve a moment, then addressed her directly. “This avalanche was precipitated by a dead junkie in a bathtub.”

  “No, sir, this avalanche was precipitated by Renee Oberman’s corrupt and illegal use of her badge, her name, her rank, and this department.”

  “Point well taken, and well expressed. But I wasn’t talking about the goddamn shit rolling down the goddamn hill, but what set off the roll.”

  “That would be a dead junkie in a bathtub, sir—technically.”

  “We’re going to use him, everything and everyone that came before and after him, to bury her in it. When we do, the department’s going to stand on top of that shit pile and claim victory. We’re going to work on that, Jack.”

  “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 wit
hout 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.”