The In Death Collection, Books 11-15

by J. D. Robb

  “Yes, but he was only trying to help. He only wanted me to know the squad was behind Taj a hundred percent. I didn’t understand at first, then he said that I shouldn’t let any of the trash coming out of your office concern me. It was all a setup. He even backed off when he saw I didn’t know anything, but I pushed. Then he told me.”

  “Who told you?”

  “I don’t want him to get in trouble.” She clasped her hands together, all but wrung them as she weighed confidentiality against justice for her husband. “Jerry Vernon. Detective Vernon. But he was only trying to help.”

  “I see. Was he a close friend of your husband’s?”

  “I don’t think so. Not particularly. Taj didn’t socialize a great deal with his coworkers. There were a few who came here to dinner, and some whose wives I got together with now and then.”

  “It would help me to know who his friends were.”

  “Oh, all right.” She listed off a few names, seemed to relax a little more as she spoke.

  “You’re going to hurt my feelings, Patsy,” Clooney said.

  “Of course, you, Art.” She took his hand, seemed to anchor to it.

  “Taj was friendly with my son,” Clooney explained. “Now and again they let the old man tag along for a beer on a boys’ night out. For the most part, Taj was a homebody.”

  “Mrs. Kohli, you told me Taj called you that night, told you he was meeting someone after he’d finished at Purgatory.”

  “Yes, but he didn’t tell me who, and I didn’t ask. I guess I was getting a little tired of the long hours he was putting in. I was a bit short with him at first, but he brought me around. He always could,” she said with a smile. “He promised it wouldn’t be for too much longer, that he was close to having what he needed. I thought he meant the extra money for the new place we wanted. Then he told me to kiss the babies for him, and he said, ‘I love you, Patsy.’ It was the last thing he said to me. It was like him for that to be the last thing.”

  chapter fifteen

  The assailant with the polite voice and the natty topcoat went by the name of Elmore Riggs. A quick search proved that it had been the name he’d been born with, some thirty-nine years before, in Vancouver, Canada.

  There had been a small dispute with the Canadian authorities over smuggling explosive devices across the border, and Elmore had done some time before he’d been considered rehabilitated and had moved to New York.

  His address was listed in a tidy, moderately wealthy enclave north of the city, and his profession was reported to be security consultant.

  A fancy name for a hired hammer, Eve decided.

  Armed with this data, she headed toward the Interview level to link up with Feeney and put Elmore Riggs through his paces.

  Vernon stepped in front of her when she reached the top of the glide.

  “A little out of your territory, aren’t you, Detective?”

  “You think you can shake me?” He gave her a body bump that had a number of the cops moving through the area pausing.

  Eve simply waved the hand she held at her side to keep them back. “I don’t know, Jerry. You look shaken.”

  “Everybody knows you’re trying to throw trash at the squad. IAB sow’s what you are. If you think you can dump on me like you’re doing on Kohli and Mills, think again. I’ve contacted my union rep, and we’re coming down on you.”

  “Gee, Vernon, now you’re scaring me. Not the union rep.” She gave a deliberate shudder.

  “You won’t be so smart when you’re hit with a lawsuit, and I start bleeding that rich husband you hooked.”

  “My God, Peabody, a lawsuit. I feel faint.”

  “Don’t worry, Lieutenant, I’ll catch you.”

  “They’ll take your badge.” Vernon sneered. “Like they did before, only this time they’ll keep it. Before I’m done, you’ll wish you never heard my name.”

  “We aren’t close to done, and I already wish that, Jerry.” She grinned at him. “I’ve got you cold, and when Ricker gets wind of it, when he starts worrying how I’m tracing those numbered accounts you set up back to him, he’s going to be very unhappy with you. I don’t think your union rep’s going to be much help where he’s concerned.”

  “You got nothing. You’re just trying to set me up. I figure you want Roth’s job over the One two-eight, so you’re messing us up so she gets the boot, and you can sail in. That’s what she thinks, too.”

  “Make sure you put that in your lawsuit. How I pulled your name out of a hat and decided to dedicate myself to destroying you and your squad, so I can sit behind a desk. That ought to fly.”

  She shifted a little closer, her eyes drilling into his. “Only you’d better start thinking how to cover yourself. The money you’ve been taking isn’t going to help much, since I’m arranging to have those accounts frozen. And while you’re dealing with that, remember I’m the only one coming at you who has even a marginal interest in keeping you breathing. While I’m coming at your face, Ricker’s going to be at your back. And there’s a cop killer hunting dirty cops. You won’t know which direction he’s coming from.”

  “That’s a rash of shit.”

  He lifted his fists, she cocked her chin. “I wouldn’t,” she said softly. “But you go right ahead.”

  “I’m taking you down.” He stepped back, clenched those fists at his sides. “You’re finished.” He shoved past her, hopped on the downward glide.

  “No, but I’m getting there,” Eve murmured. “Let’s put some men on him. I don’t want him rabbiting.” She rolled her shoulders. “You know what I’m in the mood for now?”

  “Kicking righteous ass, sir?”

  “Got it in one. Let’s go sweat Riggs.”

  “You’re limping again.”

  “I am not. And shut up.”

  She limped, damn it, to Interview A, where Feeney was waiting and popping nuts in his mouth. “What kept you?”

  “Just a little kissy-face with a close personal friend. Did Riggs lawyer?”

  “Nope. Made his phone call. Claimed it was to his wife. I gotta say, he’s a cucumber. And polite with it. Cool and well mannered, that’s our boy.”

  “He’s Canadian.”

  “Oh. I guess that explains it.”

  They walked in to where Riggs sat patiently in a miserably uncomfortable chair.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Riggs,” Eve said and moved to the table.

  “Lieutenant. Nice to see you.” He glanced down at the rip in her pants. “A pity about those trousers. They look so well on you.”

  “Yeah, I’m pretty torn up about it. Record on.” She read in the information as she took her seat. “No lawyer, Riggs?”

  “Not at this time, though thank you for asking.”

  “You do, then, understand your rights and obligations in this matter?”

  “Perfectly. First let me say I’m full of remorse for my actions.”

  Clever, she thought. This was no moron. “Are you?”

  “Absolutely. I regret what happened today. It was, of course, never my intention to cause any injury. I see now how reckless and foolish it was to approach you in the manner I did. I’d like to apologize.”

  “That’s really big of you. How did it happen you were armed with banned weapons while traveling on a New York street with the intention of abducting and/or assaulting a police officer?”

  “I fell in with bad companions,” he said with a soft smile. “I have no excuse for having illegal weapons in my possession. I would like to say, however, that in my line of work, security consultation, it’s often part of the routine to rub shoulders with criminal elements and to find oneself in possession of illegal weapons. Naturally, I should have turned those weapons over to the proper authorities.”

  “Where did you acquire those weapons?”

  “From the man you killed. I was hired by him, you see, just this morning.”

  “The dead guy hired you.”

  “Yes. I was unaware, of course, that you were a pol
ice officer when I accepted the commission. I was told that you were a dangerous individual who had threatened him and his family with bodily harm. Obviously, I was deceived, and I’m afraid I accepted his story and the weapons at face value. Very poor judgment on my part.”

  “If you weren’t aware I was a police officer, why did you call me Lieutenant at the scene?”

  “I have no recollection of having done so.”

  “So you just took this job. What was the name of the guy who hired you?”

  “Haggerty, Clarence Haggerty. Or so he told me at the time. Imagine my shock when I discovered his purpose was not, as he told me, to frighten away by show of force, a woman who was endangering his family.”

  “I’m trying to do just that,” Eve said mildly. “I guess having him grab some innocent kid and hold a stunner to his throat where it could cause permanent paralysis or death, seemed like a fine way to frighten me.”

  “It happened so fast. I was shocked when he grabbed the boy. I’m afraid my reaction was slow. Obviously Haggerty—or whoever he was—was not the man I believed him to be. Anyone who would endanger a child in that manner . . .”

  He trailed off, sadly shaking his head. “I’m quite glad you killed him, Lieutenant.” He smiled again. “I can’t begin to tell you how glad I am.”

  “I’m sure you’re dancing.” She leaned forward. “Do you really think this lame story is going to fly, Riggs?”

  “Why shouldn’t it? If you require any documentation to corroborate my brief employment by Mr. Haggerty, I’ll be happy to supply it. I keep excellent records.”

  “I’ll just bet you do.”

  “This, of course, in no way negates my responsibility for what took place. I will, no doubt, lose my security license. I face a prison term, or at the very least home incarceration. I’m prepared to take my punishment, as the law demands.”

  “You work for Max Ricker.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t recall the name. If a Mr. Ricker has hired me as a consultant at any time, it would be in my records. I’ll be happy to sign an authorization so that you can search those records.”

  “You’re looking at twenty-five years, Riggs. Minimum.”

  “I hope the courts won’t be too harsh, as I was unaware of the true purpose when I was hired. And I certainly did nothing to harm that little boy. I was duped.” He lifted his hands, his face still placid. “But I stand prepared to accept the punishment due me.”

  “You figure that’s better than ending up like Lewis.”

  “I’m sorry? Do I know a Lewis?”

  “He’s worm food. And we both know Ricker may cut his losses with you so you end up the same.”

  “I just don’t understand, Lieutenant. I’m sorry.”

  “Let’s run it through again, in words of one syllable.”

  She worked him for more than an hour, shifting over to Feeney to change the pace, coming back hard, leading in soft.

  Riggs never broke a sweat, never varied his story by an iota. It was, she thought, like interrogating a goddamn droid with perfect programming.

  “Get him out of here,” Eve ordered in disgust, then stalked out of the room.

  “This guy won’t roll,” she said when Feeney joined her. “Ricker sent brains this time. But Riggs wasn’t completely in control. He didn’t expect that creep to grab the kid. So while he’s got brains, there’s no saying the others do. I want to double the guards on the two in the hospital, get an update on their condition.”

  “Riggs gets a decent lawyer, using that line, holds to it, won’t even do five years.”

  “I know it, and so does he. Self-satisfied son of a bitch. Let’s get a run on the two in the hospital, find a level.”

  “I’ll take that. We don’t need the smoke now, so I’d as soon work out of my office.”

  “Okay. I’m going to go write this up, then head home. I’ve got some lines to tug on that end.”

  By the time she was finished, it was well after shift. She cut Peabody loose, then headed down to the garage. Her leg hurt, which pissed her off. Her head throbbed, which was only a minor annoyance.

  But when she reached her parking level and saw the condition of her vehicle, she was ready to spit rock.

  “Goddamn it. Goddamn it.”

  She’d had this unit—one that actually worked—for less than eight months. It was ugly, had already been wrecked once and repaired, but it was hers, and she’d kept it in decent shape.

  Now the hood, the trunk, the doors on both sides were smashed in, the tires slashed, and the rear glass looked like it had been attacked by lasers.

  And all, she thought, in a police garage with full security cams.

  “Whoa.” Baxter strolled up behind her. “I heard you had a little trouble earlier, but didn’t know you’d wrecked your vehicle. Maintenance isn’t going to be happy with you.”

  “I didn’t wreck it. How the hell did somebody walk in here and beat the crap out of my ride?” She took another step toward it, and Baxter grabbed her arm.

  “Let’s just keep some distance. Call the bomb squad. You’ve got a very temperamental enemy at the moment. Could be rigged.”

  “You’re right. Yeah, you’re right. If it blows up, they’ll never issue me another one. They hate me in Requisitions.”

  It wasn’t rigged, and she managed to cop four new tires. Because Baxter called down for them and sweet-talked Maintenance. While they were being changed and two crabby Maintenance men were doing something to the doors to make them open and close again, she checked with Garage Security.

  A blip, she was told, in the disc run.

  “What’s the verdict?” Baxter asked when she came back.

  “A blip, fifteen minutes of snow and blocked audio. This level only. They didn’t notice.” Her eyes narrowed into tawny glints. “I guarantee they’ll notice the next time. You didn’t have to hang, Baxter.”

  “This may be your game, Dallas, but we all want part of the ball. You should take something for that leg. You’re limping.”

  “I am not.” She sighed as she wrenched open her dented car door. “Thanks.”

  “Don’t I get a kiss good-bye?”

  “Sure, honey. Come on over here.”

  He laughed, backed away. “You’ll hit me. You heading home?”

  “Yeah.”

  He wandered to his vehicle. “I’m heading uptown, myself.” He said it casually and didn’t fool her for a minute. “I’ll follow you up.”

  “I don’t need a baby-sitter.”

  “I’m heading uptown,” he said and got in his car.

  She wanted to be annoyed with him but couldn’t quite pull it off. On the drive, she stayed alert, watching for tails, preparing for ambush. Other than her vehicle making ominous whining noises when she got over thirty miles an hour, and thumping ones when she turned left, the trip home was uneventful.

  She waved Baxter off at her gates, figured she’d raid Roarke’s liquor supply for a bottle of unblended scotch as payment for the favor.

  She wanted a drink herself, she thought as she walked up the front steps. A nice cool glass of wine, maybe a quick swim to work out the kinks.

  She had a feeling it was going to be a long night.

  “I assume,” Summerset began while the cat streaked between his legs to greet Eve, “you’ve been involved in some sort of vehicular accident.”

  “You assume incorrectly. My unit was involved in some sort of vehicular accident.” She bent, picked up Galahad, and found a little comfort by rubbing her cheek against his fur. “Where’s Roarke?”

  “He is not yet home for the evening. If you had consulted his schedule, you’d be aware he isn’t expected for another hour. Those trousers are ruined.”

  “People keep telling me that.” She set the cat down, stripped off her jacket, and tossed it over the newel post. She walked past him, intended to go down to the pool house.

  “You’re limping.”

  She kept going, but she did indulge herself in a s
ingle short scream.

  The swim helped, and once she was alone and naked, she took a good look at the wound on her leg. The MT had done a good job, she had to admit. It was healing up well, even if it did ache like hell.

  There were a number of scrapes and bruises to go along with it. Some of which, she decided, she’d gotten during the jungle sex with Roarke. It didn’t seem so bad when she backed those out of the mix. Feeling better, she tugged on a robe and, giving in to her knee, took the elevator up to the bedroom.

  And coming out, nearly rapped straight into Roarke on the point of going in.

  “Hello, Lieutenant. I was coming down to join you.”

  “I took a long swim, but I could sit and watch you take one. If you’re naked.”

  “Why don’t we take one together later?” He drew her into the bedroom. “What happened to your car?”

  “I can’t prove it, but my guess is Ricker. It was like that when I got down to the garage. We seem to keep annoying each other.” She started toward her closet.

  “Why are you limping?”

  She rolled her eyes but resisted banging her head against the wall. “I rapped my knee. Look, I want to get dressed, have a drink. I’ll tell you about it.” She started to tug off the robe, remembered the range of bruises and scrapes. “I ran into some trouble today, took a roll on the street. I’m a little banged up, so don’t go crazy on me.”

  “I’ll try to retain my sanity.” His only reaction when she stripped was a sigh. “Very colorful. Lie down.”

  “No.”

  “Eve, lie down so I don’t have to knock you down. I’ll treat them, and it’ll be done.”

  She grabbed out a shirt. “Listen, ace, I missed a very much desired ass-kicking round today. I can substitute you for my intended target.” But when he took a step toward her, she tossed down the shirt. “All right, all right. I’m not in the mood to fight. But if you’re going to play doctor, I want a drink.”

  She stalked to the bed, flopped onto her stomach, and said in a tone she hoped would irritate him a little, “Wine. White and cold.”

  “We’re here to serve.” He got the glass, slipped a pain blocker into it, knowing it would irritate her when she figured it out. He retrieved the medication for her injuries, set them down, and flipped her over.