by J. D. Robb
“In the heat of the moment—”
“My ass. I’ll be writing him up because, frankly, I don’t trust you to do so. I’ll also be writing up the incident regarding my vic’s residence. I will be speaking to any member of your squad who’s involved in this Geraldi case. Further, as already detailed, I want all data on any busts or investigations that involved the substance known as FYU.”
“That’s absolutely—”
Eve stepped closer, let her own heat show. “You don’t know how we do things in my division? I’ll tell you this, if one of my men displayed such extreme disrespect to a superior officer, I’d be the one who took him down. Because it’s my command. I want the data and files on the investigation within the hour.”
Eve strode out, pleased to see every eye in the place follow her out—and enjoyed the faint smirk Detective Strong didn’t quite mask.
Part of her wanted to break out in song, but she kept cold, controlled fury on her face as she stormed back to her own level, her own bullpen.
“Reineke!”
His head snapped up, eyes wide at the tone. “Sir!”
“What would happen if you said ‘fuck you’ to a superior officer in my presence?”
“If I said it in my head or out loud?”
“Out loud.”
“My ass would be extremely sore from the repeated and forceful application of your boot thereto.”
“Fucking A. Peabody, my office.” She kept that pissed-off look in place until Peabody came in, obeyed Eve’s signal to shut the door. “Watch this, because you won’t see it often.”
Eve swiveled her hips, pumped her arms in the air.
“Would that be your happy dance, sir?”
“It’s restrained, I know, but this is serious business and requires some restraint. I just creamed Renee, embarrassed her, pissed her off, and undermined her command—and as a bonus maneuvered Garnet into behavior that earned him a thirty-day rip. Which I will write up forthwith.”
“You did all that without me?”
“I didn’t know going in I was going to hit the jackpot. I need to write him up, file the rip. I have to do it asap, in my righteous fury and all that. I’ll fill you in as soon as possible. Meanwhile I’m expecting a case file from our pals in Illegals—the blind Garnet tried to use to justify going into the flop.”
“They admitted it?”
“Had to. Geraldi investigation’s what he used to excuse going into the flop. I want you to pick through the file. Odds are they’re planning on doing a nice skim when it goes down. Let’s see who and what we can use.”
“Did you scare her? I’m good with the embarrassed, pissed off, and undermined, but I’d really like her scared.”
Eve’s smile spread wide even as her eyes burned. “Peabody, I put the fear of God into her.”
“Good. Good. The guys are going to ask what’s up with you.”
“And you tell them—discreetly—that one of Lieutenant Oberman’s detectives got in my face, used obscenities, and struck me.”
Peabody’s eyes widened, rounded, all but glazed. “He hit you?”
“Well, technically I made sure my arm got in the way when he did his furious whirl around to me, but there was contact. Renee stood there ineffectively—pass that on—then tried to talk me into letting it go. That’s enough to get it growing on the Central grapevine.”
“I’ll say.” In a mimic of Eve, Peabody swiveled her hips, pumped her arms, then strolled out.
An hour later, Eve answered a summons to Whitney’s office.
He leaned back in his chair. “I just had a long conversation with Lieutenant Oberman.”
“I’m not surprised, sir.”
“She wished me to countermand your thirty-day suspension of Detective Garnet. I read your report on him. How did you manage to incite him to ... basically tell you to get fucked and to make physical contact?”
“It was surprisingly easy. He’s got a temper, and once the right buttons are pushed, feels entitled to use it. Bix is more controlled, sir, and I found it interesting that her tone with him is almost maternal. Garnet does the talking, Bix the listening. Bix immediately obeys an order, Garnet ignores them, at least when he’s hot.”
“Lieutenant Oberman cites a current investigation, in which both Garnet and Bix are involved, as the necessity for me to countermand, or failing that, to postpone the rip.”
“The Geraldi matter. My opinion, sir?” She waited for his nod. “Renee pulled that out of the air, and they tried to run with it. But without time to plan and coordinate, it tripped them up.”
“She relayed what happened—her version of what happened during the time you were in her office, assures me she will discipline her detectives and order Garnet to issue an apology to you.”
“Not accepted.”
“Nor would I accept in your place. But ...” He lifted his big hands. “Don’t you think it would be more useful to the investigation if Garnet remained on active duty?”
“He’s a hair trigger, Commander. He’s already steamed at Renee, already questioning—even ignoring her authority, her strategies. Now he’s taken this knock and she didn’t fix it. His dissatisfaction with the status quo just increased. He’s going to find trouble in his current mood and situation.”
“There’s a crack,” Whitney said with a nod, “and you use him to widen it.”
“I think he’d shatter it. When we take him down, he’ll flip on her. As much as making a deal with him leaves a bad taste, Commander, Garnet will flip on all of them for a decent deal. Bix won’t flip. He’s loyal. But I can flip Garnet.”
“Compromise, even with a bad taste, is something command routinely swallows. All right, Lieutenant, the suspension holds. Has Renee copied you on the investigation?”
“The data came in right before I received your request to meet, sir. I’ve got Peabody going through it, and I’ll do so myself.”
“As will I. You’ve made an enemy of her, Dallas.”
“She always was, Commander. She just didn’t know it.”
Eleven
EVE KEPT HER STONY FACE ON AS SHE TRAVELED back to her division. From the few glances shot her way, the occasional murmur, she was assured the Central grapevine was spreading the gossip.
She needed to close herself off in her office awhile, do some probabilities, and use her instincts to select the next step.
Peabody started to hail her, but Eve shook her head and kept going. She heard the squeal when she was a few short steps from her door.
There was baby Bella decked out like a daffodil with her sunny curls, her chubby body tucked into a bright yellow sundress decorated with pink candy hearts.
The hearts matched her mother’s hair. Mavis Freestone bounced her baby girl and giggled at the squeals of delight. She’d scooped her hair back into a trio of stacked ponytails. What there was of her summer dress exploded with interlacing circles in vivid purple and pink.
Green eyes sparked with laughter in her pretty face as Bella bapped her hands together.
“Applause, applause!” Mavis gurgled, and the baby slapped her hands together again. “Now take your bow!”
On cue—and how the hell did a brain that tiny know—Bella pushed her feet—in shiny pink sandals that were a mini version of her mother’s—and rose up to stand on Mavis’s lap. She lowered her chin to her chest.
“Kisses to the crowd!” Mavis switched her handhold to Bella’s waist so the baby could smack her palm against her lips, then wave it.
Eve had to admit it was a pretty good routine.
“You brought the baby to a cop shop?”
Mother and daughter both turned, and big, happy smiles spread. “She wanted to visit.”
Bella threw out her arms, babbled.
Eve inched back. “What does she want?”
“You. Which is great.” Mavis popped up. “‘Cause I absolutely have to pee. BRB,” she added, and shoved the baby at Eve.
“Hey! Hey!” But Mavis’s shiny pin
k sandals were already skipping away. “Jesus Christ.”
Bella giggled, patted her drool-dewed hands on Eve’s cheeks, then got a Herculean grip on her hair. She tugged then slurped her wet lips on Eve’s cheek.
“Slooch!”
“Yeah, yeah, I remember.” Smooch, Eve thought, and eyed Bella’s lips—and more drool. “On the mouth?”
“Slooch!” Bella pursed like a guppy and made kissy noises.
“Fine, fine.” Eve gave her a little peck, then stared into her big blue eyes. “Now what?”
Bella widened her eyes, and looked, to Eve’s mind, very serious as she babbled and garbled, head turning side-to-side, little butt bouncing on Eve’s forearm.
“Nobody understands that. Anybody who tells you they do is just stringing you, kid.”
She decided to sit—safer and closer to the floor if the kid wriggled free. Plus maybe she could start on the probabilities. But the minute they were down, Bella pushed up.
“God! I wish you wouldn’t do that. Sit.”
In response Bella pumped her legs and danced on Eve’s knees. She grinned like a maniac and squealed, “Das!”
“Sure, sure.” Eve eyed the mountainous purple bag taking up most of her desk. “Probably something in there to keep you occupied. One of those plugs, something.” Hooking an arm around Bella’s waist, she pulled out things at random—shaking things, beeping things, singing things.
But all the kid wanted to do was dance.
She pulled out a box highlighted with a baby’s cherubic face. Bella danced harder, cried, “Yum!” and made a grab for it.
“Hold it, hold it.” It was a struggle, but Eve managed to hold the box out of reach and peek inside at what appeared to be thick crescents of stale bread.
“Those look disgusting.”
Bella narrowed those big blue eyes, slitting them into what looked suspiciously like a warning. “Yum!”
“Is that a threat? Do you see how much bigger I am than you? Do you really think that’s going to work?”
Now the little mouth quivered, and the big blue eyes filled with tears. “Yum,” she sniffled. A single fat one slid down the rosy cheek.
“Okay, that works.” Eve dug one out. The box wouldn’t have a baby on it if it wasn’t for babies, she reasoned.
Bella clutched it and brought the biscuit and Eve’s hand to her mouth to gnaw. Tears miraculously vanished into a sunny smile.
“Yum!”
“You’re a player, aren’t you? I have to admire that. But turning on the waterworks to get what you want? That’s weak. Effective, but weak.”
Still smiling, Bella pulled the gnawed biscuit from her mouth and shoved it at Eve’s.
“No. Thanks. Oh, God, it is disgusting.”
“Yum,” Bella insisted, then plopped her butt on Eve’s desk and happily gnawed away.
Eve looked around quickly as Mavis bounced in. “If she’s not supposed to have that thing, you shouldn’t have left it here.”
“No big deal, those are her yums.”
“So she told me—I guess.”
Mavis pulled a heart-covered bib out of the bag, whipped it around Bella’s neck. “They’re kinda messy.”
“You did that on purpose, didn’t you? Dumped her in my lap and poofed.”
Mavis giggled, lifted her shoulders. “Busted. But I did pee.”
“Why?”
“Because my bladder asked me to.”
“Mavis.”
“Because she loves you, and because you’ve pretty much stopped holding her at arm’s length like she’s a boomer full of poop.”
“Poop is sometimes involved.”
“True.” Mavis took a quick sniff. “But not now. She can say your name.” To prove it Mavis gave Eve a kiss on the cheek. “Dallas.”
“Das!” Bella squealed and stroked a gooey hand where her mother had kissed.
On a strangled sound, Eve started to swipe the goo off with the heel of her hand, but Mavis pulled a damp wipe out of a packet.
“That’s my name?”
“It’s the closest she can come to Dallas right now. She can’t manage Peabody, but she’s got McNab.”
“Nab!” Bella waved her dripping biscuit in triumph.
“And she’s got Roarke.”
“Ork!”
“Ork.” That tickled a laugh out of Eve, and the sound had the baby sending out a chant.
“Ork! Ork! Ork!” Then damned if the kid didn’t take a bow.
“Jesus, Mavis, she’s you all over.”
“With her daddy’s sweet, sweet heart.” Mavis pulled a rainbow-hued blanket out of the apparently bottomless bag. After spreading it on the floor, she took Bella, plopped her on it.
“Okay if I close the door? In case she starts to motor.”
“Good idea.”
Mavis shut the door, then dropped down in Eve’s visitor’s chair. With the baby at her feet, she crossed her legs. “So, how’d I do?”
“Good job, Candy.”
“Not too OTT? Over the top,” Mavis translated. “I decided to plug in the Brooklyn and the tits when I was putting it together this morning. Just a little jazz.”
“Both were impressive. I barely recognized you myself. You haven’t lost your skills.”
“Felt mag, too, gotta confess. Sliding back in and duping a mark. Temporarily,” she added, “and for a righteous cause.”
“Check.”
“I guess you still can’t tell me what the righteous cause is?”
“Not yet.”
“Doesn’t matter, because I so totally didn’t like the mark. Pushy b-i-t-c-h. Hard a-s-s, and not in a good or frosty way.”
“You’re actually spelling swear words now? The kid’s not even listening.”
“You never know. This Oberman is the b word and the a word and a whole universe of other words I don’t want to say in front of my Bellamina. And, Dallas, she’d like to rip your heart out of your chest with her bare hands.”
“I’ve given her cause. That’s part of it.”
“Just watch your as—a-s-s. I was back in my grifter’s skin, you know, and man, the vibes. Cold and dark. Belle and I want our Das to stay safe, and to kick the b-word’s you-know-what.”
“I plan to do both.”
After Bella waved bye-bye, Eve got coffee, settled down to review the data she’d already accessed on the detectives who’d transferred out of Renee’s squad, crossed that with what Baxter had dug up for her.
She studied their records before, during, and after Renee’s command, their records after transfer, and in one case retirement.
She took a hard look at Detective-Sergeant Samuel Allo. Thirty-five years in before he’d turned in his papers—thirty-one years and five months of that prior to Renee’s command. A full seventeen in Illegals before Renee, and he’d finished up the last of his thirty-five years in Illegals as well, only in the six-eight out of the Bronx.
She juggled him in with a couple others who looked strong to her, ran a variety of probabilities. In the end it satisfied her to see the computer agreed with her gut.
She walked out into the bullpen. Before she could signal Peabody, Carmichael strolled over with a little box. “Got something for you, Lieutenant.”
Noting the cops on desks watched, she opened the box.
“Okay. Why are you giving me a cookie shaped like—is it a dog?”
“Yeah. See, it says Top Dog. My sister works in a bakery, so she made it.”
“Nice. Because?”
“A little token for taking Garnet down a peg. I had a case cross with one of his awhile back,” Carmichael explained. “He’s an asshole.”
“I can confirm that assessment. Why do you say so?”
“Struts,” she said with a little sneer. “I don’t like strutters. Likes pushing his weight around and acting like he’s doing you some big favor for sharing info when you’re working angles on the same case. Doesn’t like getting his pretty suits dirty either. Roasted a rook uniform in front
of God and everyone for asking a question, and when I objected he told me to stop being a little girl.”
“How long did he limp?”
Carmichael smiled. “I was tempted to bust his balls, but deemed it more appropriate to secure the scene, preserve evidence. So, in the spirit of what goes around, a token for the Top Dog for busting his balls now.”
“Happy to so bust. Thanks. Peabody, with me.” Eve bit the dog’s head off as she walked out, then glanced back at her men. “Tasty.”
As Eve chewed the dog, Peabody sent her a puppy-dog look.
“Jesus, here.” She broke off a foreleg, handed it over.
“Thanks. It is tasty. Everything chill with the commander?”
“Completely. I want to recanvass the area around the crime scene, try to hook with my weasel, see if he’s got any more I can squeeze out of him.”
Since there was no weasel in this case, Peabody just nodded. “He was pretty rattled about what happened to Keener. He may have gone under for a while.”
“Then we’ll have to dig him up.”
When they were in the vehicle, Peabody asked, “Where are we really going?”
“We’ll take a swing by the scene. Maybe we’ll be able to squeeze out more juice on Juicy. After, we’re going to the Bronx.”
“I guess it won’t be to catch a Yankees game.”
“DS Samuel Allo, retired. All data indicates he was a solid cop. Probability confirms my analysis with a ninety-four-point-seven.”
“I recognize the name. He was with the squad before Renee got promoted. He transferred out.”
“About seven months after she took command,” Eve confirmed. “Out of her squad, and out of Central. He put in another three-plus with Bronx PSD. Did thirty-five. He has a few bumps, and a lot more commendations. One rip—under Renee—for insubordination. Her evals of him over the seven-month period were not stellar. Coasting, she claimed, just riding out his time. Questioning her authority, balking at doing OT when deemed necessary.
“Oddly, his evals and records with the six-eight in the Bronx did not reflect his previous lieutenant’s opinion.”
