by J. D. Robb
“One doesn’t rush genius, Dallas.” He picked up a skull saw, set it to whirl.
Eve often wondered why anyone chose this particular line of work, or how they could be so cheerful when going about it. At least the air in the room was cool, she thought and wandered over to study the offerings of the little fridgie. She settled for a tube of ginger ale before walking back to Morris.
“What do you—”
“Ssh!”
She scowled, but subsided. Morris was usually chatty when he worked. In this case he went about the job in silence, referring to the inside of Cogburn’s skull, to the computer imagery on the screen beside the table.
She studied it herself, but saw nothing but shapes and colors.
“You do a medical search on this guy?”
“Yeah. He hasn’t been in for any sort of work or check in a couple of years. Nothing popped.”
“Oh yeah, something popped. His brain, and no standard stunner did this damage. No tumor that I can see. No clotting. If it was an embolism there should be . . . What we’ve got is severe intercranial pressure. His brain’s massively swollen.”
“Preexisting?”
“I can’t tell, not yet. This is going to take time. Fascinating. Pop’s just what this brain did. Like an overinflated balloon. I can tell you that in my opinion this wasn’t done by any weapon. It’s internal.”
“Medical then.”
“I’m not going to confirm that. I’m going to run some tests.” He shooed her away. “I’ll contact you when I have something solid.”
“Give me something.”
“I can tell you it appears this guy’s brain was in serious condition, an ongoing condition prior to any act by your officer last evening. What happened here didn’t happen as a result of a stun. It didn’t happen if he’d stuck a police issue laser in the guy’s ear and blasted away. I can’t say if the stun caused some sort of chain reaction that led to early termination. But from the looks of this brain, this guy would’ve been dead within an hour. I’ll let you know when I figure out how and why. Now go and let me work.”
Eve bypassed the seal on Cogburn’s apartment. The stench, the stale, trapped heat punched like a dirty fist when she opened the door.
“God. That’s foul.”
“Oh yeah.” Peabody turned her head, sucked in what she imagined was her last easy breath, then followed Eve inside.
“Go ahead and open the window while we’re in here. It’s got to be better than working in a closed box.”
“What are we looking for?”
“Morris’s prelim is leaning toward preexisting condition. We may find something in here to verify that, to indicate he was self-medicating. The place looks like he was off, sick. That’s what struck me from the first. He’s a creep, but a tidy, organized creep. Keeps his nest neat ordinarily. But the last several days, he’s falling down on the domestic front. Keeping up with his business though. You’re sick, you’re hot, you’re irritable. Neighbor hassles you, you crack. Makes better sense.”
“But, well, it doesn’t really matter why Cogburn had batting practice on his neighbor.”
“It always matters why,” Eve answered. “Ralph Wooster’s dead, and Cogburn’s paid for it. But it matters why.”
She opened drawers she’d opened and searched the day before. “Maybe he had a hard-on for Wooster all along. Maybe he wanted to shag Ralph’s woman, or owed him money. And now he’s feeling like shit and old Ralph’s hammering on his door and yelling at him.”
She crouched down, shined a penlight deep into the recesses of a cupboard. “Point is, something made him snap, go postal. Could be his brain was frying. Morris said he was a dead man.”
“Even so, Trueheart’s in Testing.” Peabody glanced at her wrist unit. “Or just coming out of it. He’ll have to face IAB whether or not Cogburn had a preexisting.”
“Yeah, but he’ll feel better if it comes out he gave the guy the standard and acceptable stuns, and a preexisting was the root or cause of death. We get him that, he won’t get the mandatory thirty-day vacation.”
She stayed crouched, frowning into space. “Anyway, I don’t like how it feels. Just don’t like it.”
“What’s that song you’re humming?”
Eve stopped, cursed herself, straightened. “I don’t know. Damn Morris. Let’s knock on doors.”
It was amazing how many people lost their sense of hearing or their ability to communicate in coherent sentences when a badge was involved.
More than half the doors Eve knocked on remained firmly shut, and whatever sounds emitting from inside were stifled instantly. The doors that opened revealed people no more helpful, with responses that ranged from I dunno to I didn’t hear nothing from nobody.
On the first floor, in apartment 11F, Eve’s dwindling patience was rewarded.
The blonde was young and looked half asleep. She wore a tiny pair of white panties and a thin tank. She yawned hugely in Eve’s face, then blinked at the badge when it was shoved in front of her.
“My license is paid up. I got six more months till renewal, and I just had my mandatory health check. I got the okay.”
“Good to know.” As licensed companions went this one was on the young side and still looked fresh. The license was likely in its first year. “I’m not here about that. This concerns what happened on the fourth floor yesterday.”
“Oh! Wow! That was sure something. I hid in the closet until the screaming stopped. I was really scared. There was a big fight and people got killed and stuff.”
“Did you know either of the men who got killed?”
“Sort of.”
“Can we come inside, Miss . . .”
“Oh, oh, I’m Reenie, Reenie Pike—well Pikowski, but I’m changing it to Pike because, you know, it’s sexier. I guess so—about coming in. My trainer said how we were supposed to cooperate with the police so we didn’t get rousted and stuff.”
She was, Eve thought, the Trueheart of the licensed companion crowd. Still shiny and innocent despite her chosen occupation. “That’s a good policy, Reenie. Why don’t we all have some cooperation. Inside.”
“Okay, but the place is kinda messy. I sleep during the day, mostly, especially since it’s so hot. Super hasn’t fixed the climate control. I don’t think that’s right.”
“Maybe I can talk to him for you,” Eve offered as she eased inside the door.
“Really? That would be great. It’s hard to bring clients back here because it’s too hot for sex and stuff, and I’m only licensed for street work and most street clients don’t want to pop for a hotel room and stuff. You know?”
The furniture was spare, the layout identical to Cogburn’s. Disorder came from scattered clothes in bright, come-hither colors, in the trio of wigs tossed about like tangled scalps and the army of cosmetic enhancements jumbled on the chest under the window.
The air was hot enough to bake cookies.
“What can you tell me about Louis Cogburn?” Eve began.
“He liked it straight and quick. No fancy stuff.”
“That’s really interesting, Reenie, but I wasn’t really asking about his sexual preferences. But since you mention it, was he a regular client?”
“Sort of.” She moved around the room, picking up clothes, tossing them into a closet. “Once every couple weeks since I moved in. He was real polite about it, said how it was nice having an lc right in the building. He said how we could work out a trade, but I told him I’d sooner the money ’cause I’m saving up for on-call status, and I don’t do illegals and stuff. Oh.” She slapped a hand on her mouth. “I didn’t mean to say about him dealing, but I guess it’s okay since he’s dead.”
“And stuff. Yeah, we know about his business. Did he ever fight with any of the other tenants before yesterday?”
“Oh no, nuh-uh. He was real quiet, and like I said, polite and stuff. Kept to himself mostly.”
“Did he ever mention Ralph Wooster or Suzanne Cohen to you, any problem or grudge
he had regarding them?”
“Nuh-uh. I sort of know Suze. Sort of. I mean to say hello to, and howzit. And just a few days ago we sat out on the stoop and had a brew ’cause it was so hot inside. She’s nice. She said how she and Ralph were thinking about getting married and stuff. She works at a 24/7 around the corner and he does the bouncing at a club. I forget which one. Maybe I should go see her in the hospital.”
“I bet she’d appreciate that. Did you notice anything different about Mr. Cogburn in the last few days?”
“Sort of. Hey, you want a cold drink? I got some Fizzy Lemon.”
“No, that’s okay. You go ahead.”
“I could use some water,” Peabody put in. “If you don’t mind.”
“Sure, okay. Is it hard being a cop and stuff?”
“It can be.” Eve watched Reenie’s pert little butt lift as she bent down to find her Fizzy Lemon in the fridgie. “But it shows you . . . all sides of the human condition.”
“You see lots as an lc, too.”
“What did you see different about Mr. Cogburn recently?”
“Well . . .” Reenie came back with a glass of water for Peabody, then took a moment to sip delicately at her soft drink. “Take the day Suze and I were on the stoop. Louie K. walked up on his way in. He looked kinda bad, you know all pale and sweaty and tuckered out and stuff. So I said, you know, hot enough for you? And he gave me this real nasty look and told me I should keep my mouth shut if all I could say was something stupid.”
Her unpainted lips moved into a pretty little pout. “Really hurt my feelings, but you know, Louie K.’s just not mean like that and he really didn’t look good, so I said, aw, Louie K., you look all worn out. You want some of my brew? And for a minute, he looked like he was gonna be nasty again, and Suze got all stiff. But then he sort of rubbed at his face and said how he was sorry he said that, and how the heat was getting to him and he had this bad headache and stuff. I said I had some blockers if he wanted, which, I guess, was stupid, too, ’cause of his business. But he didn’t say so and just said how he’d maybe lay down awhile and try to sleep off the headache.”
She paused a minute as if thinking it through. “And like that,” she concluded.
“Did you see him between that time and yesterday?”
“Not to see. But I heard him yesterday morning. I was sleeping, but he woke me up pounding on the super’s door and yelling at him to fix the climate control. He was cursing up a streak, which wasn’t something you heard him do a whole lot, but the super didn’t open the door, and Louie K., he went on back up, not out like he did most days.”
“He went back up to his apartment after trying the super.”
“Yeah, and that’s kinda strange ’cause Louie K. was really, you know, like disciplined about work. I don’t think he’d gone out for a while, now that you mention it. Anyway I was getting dressed yesterday when I heard all the yelling and the crashing upstairs. I only peeked out for a second, and saw that cute cop come running in. Then I hid in the closet. The cute cop was calling out for somebody to call 911. I guess I should’ve, but I was awfully scared and stuff.”
“You heard the responding officer call for someone to call for police backup?”
Reenie bowed her head. “Yeah. I’m sorry I didn’t help, but I thought somebody else would and I was scared. I guess it wouldn’t have made a difference anyway because it all got over pretty fast. The cop guy, the cute guy, I think he’s a real hero to go up there the way he did when everybody else stayed inside where it was safe. Maybe, if you see him and stuff you could tell him I said so. And I feel bad I didn’t help.”
“Sure,” Eve replied. “I’ll let him know.”
Rather than write an updated report, Eve opted to go straight to Commander Whitney with an oral. She had to wheedle a five-minute window through the commander’s assistant but she was willing to take what she could get for the impact of a face-to-face.
“Thank you for making time, Commander.”
“If I could make time, my day would be a lot less harried. Make it fast, Lieutenant.”
He continued to read whatever data was on his desk screen. His profile was stony. The bulk of him suited the large and currently cluttered desk as did the weight of his command. Both that bulk and that weight, Eve had reason to know, carried steely muscle.
“Regarding the incident involving Officer Trueheart, sir. I’ve gathered additional data, which indicates the terminated assailant may have suffered from a preexisting that caused his death. ME Morris is still running tests but has stated that due to this condition the subject would have died within the hour.”
“Morris shot me a brief prelim on that. You have loyal associates, Dallas.”
“Sir. Trueheart has completed Testing by now. Results should be in by morning. I’d like to postpone any IAB involvement until the investigation into yesterday’s incident shows clearly if any such involvement is warranted or necessary.”
Whitney turned to her now, his wide, dark face closed. “Lieutenant, do you have any reason to believe that a standard IAB investigation and interview will cast any shadow on the actions taken by this officer?”
“No, Commander.”
“Then let it ride. Let it ride,” he repeated before she could speak. “Let the boy stand for himself. Let him clear himself. He’ll be the better for it. Having you in his corner is one thing. Having you stand in a shield is another entirely.”
“I’m not trying to . . .” She trailed off, realizing she was doing just that. “Permission to speak frankly, Commander.”
“As long as it’s brief.”
“I feel some responsibility as I brought Trueheart in from his former detail. A few months ago he was seriously injured on one of my ops. He follows orders to the letter and he has a lot of spine. But his instincts are still developing, and his skin’s still thin. I just don’t want to see him take any more hits over this than he deserves.”
“If he can’t stand up to it, better he finds out now. You know that, Dallas.”
“If there’s a preexisting, mandatory thirty day can be waived. You know that, Commander, as you know the emotional and mental distress even a by-the-book suspension can bring on. He responded to a call for help. He put himself on the line, without hesitation.”
“He failed to call for backup.”
“Yes, sir, he did. Did you ever fail to call for backup?”
Whitney’s eyebrows lifted. “If I did, I deserved to get kicked for it.”
“I’ll kick him.”
“I’ll consider the waiver, Lieutenant, once all data and results are in and studied.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Huddled in his cube, Halloway ran another series of scans on the Cogburn unit. And groused.
Play a little Crusader on your break, and you get all the shit details dumped on you. Who the hell cared about the data stored on the drive of a dead kiddie dealer’s unit? What was Feeney going to do? Tattle on the pint-sized clients to their mommies?
Four hours, he thought, and popped a blocker for the vicious headache trumpeting inside his skull. Four frigging hours dicking with useless data on a useless second-rate unit all because bigshot Dallas comes begging to bigshot Feeney.
He sat back, rubbed his blurry eyes.
He couldn’t get past the shield on this Purity transmission. Cogburn hadn’t generated the message. That much he’d verified. It had come from outside, but so the fuck what?
Absolute Purity. Probably some sort of baby lotion.
His head was killing him. And God, it was hot in here. Damn climate control must’ve gone out again. Nobody did their jobs anymore. Nobody but him.
He shoved away from the desk, pushed out of his cube, desperate for water, for air.
He elbowed other cops out of his way, earned himself some inventive suggestions on self-gratification.
At the water cooler, he glugged down cup after cup as he tracked the movements of his associates.
Look at them. Like
a bunch of ants in a nest. Somebody ought to do the world a favor and squash some ants.
“Hey, Halloway.” McNab bounced in fresh from a field assignment. “How’s it going? Heard you caught a shit detail.”
“Fuck you, asshole.”
Temper rolled over McNab’s face, but then he noted Halloway’s pallor, and the beads of sweat. “You look a little wasted. Maybe you should take a break.”
Halloway downed more water. “Somebody’s gonna get wasted. Get off my case before I show the rest of these dickweeds what a pansy Feeney’s pet really is.”
“You got a problem with me?” If so, it was a new one. To that point McNab and Halloway had flowed along smoothly. “We can take it down to the gym and work it out. See who’s the pansy of EDD.”
Feeney swept in, stopped by the cooler when he felt the hot wall of tension. “McNab, I want that report ten minutes ago. Halloway, you got all this time to stand around the cooler I can find more for you to do. Move it.”
“Later,” Halloway muttered under his breath, and stalked back to his cube with his head raging.
Chapter 4
With Peabody in tow, Eve stopped by the hospital for a followup interview with Suzanne Cohen. The woman was weepy and despondent, having discovered her affection for Ralph ran considerably deeper now that he was dead.
But she had nothing appreciable to add to the mix. Her version of the incident on the stoop followed Reenie’s, as did her basic take on Louie K.
He was quiet, except for his music, and kept mostly to himself.
“Isn’t that always the way?” Eve noted. “Every time you’ve got some guy going on a spree that ends in blood, people say he was quiet and kept to himself. Just once, I’d like to hear how he was a maniac who ate live snakes.”
“There was that guy last year who bit off the heads of pigeons before he jumped off the roof of his apartment building.”
“Yeah, but he only splattered himself, and we didn’t catch that one. No point in trying to cheer me up with pigeon eaters.” Despondent herself, Eve pulled out her beeping communicator. “Dallas.”
“Thought you’d want an update,” Morris began. “I’m still running tests, and results in are largely inconclusive.”