Obsession in Death

“Sure. Um, Lieutenant?”

 

“Officer.”

 

“He uses the word ‘justice’ a lot. If, going over correspondence, we look for somebody who didn’t get justice – or feels that way. Maybe a vic or a connection to a vic, and Bastwick got the alleged perpetrator off, or cut the time, made a deal. And maybe this Ledo played a minor part. Sold illegals to the individual who got off, or to the vic or the UNSUB. It’s possible illegals plays some role in whatever’s set the UNSUB off.”

 

“Always thinking,” Baxter said, not without pride.

 

“That’s an angle we’re looking at, and you’re not wrong to bring it up,” Eve told Trueheart. “Problem is, it’ll be like looking for the crazy needle in a stack of needles. And nobody say ‘haystack,’” she warned. “Because that’s just stupid. I’ve run basic cross-searches for anyone connected to the two vics. So far, I got zip. If there’s a connection, it’s going to be nebulous at best.”

 

“We got that one.” Reineke nodded at Jenkinson.

 

“You’re on an active investigation,” Eve began.

 

“All respect, boss, but that’s bullshit. We know how to juggle,” Jenkinson reminded her. “Everybody in this room’s been on the job long enough they can juggle standing on one foot with one eye closed. Just like everybody knows if it’s a cop doing this, or somebody attached to the cops – well, it doesn’t make two people more dead or less dead, but it means the sooner we shut it down the less crap’s going to fly on the department. And you, LT.”

 

“I can take care of my own flying crap.”

 

After a moment of silence, Reineke puffed out a breath. “He’s trying not to say bullshit to you twice in the same briefing, so I will. That’s bullshit, boss.”

 

Baxter shook his head. “You want to get this done?” he asked Reineke, Jenkinson. “Use some smarts. You can handle your own crap, Dallas, but while you are, some’s bound to splatter on this division, on us. So we put in the time, and we minimize that. And maybe save a life because there’s nothing up there that says he doesn’t have another lined up.”

 

“I shoulda thought of that,” Jenkinson muttered. “I shoulda had that one ready.”

 

“You’re a slick one, Baxter.”

 

He just grinned at Eve. “Slick and shiny. All the ladies like me that way.”

 

“Juggle then – but nobody shuffles an active to the back for this. How old were those kids who got sliced up, Jenkinson?”

 

His eyes went cool and flat. “Fifteen and seventeen. Brothers.”

 

“They’re your priority.”

 

“You got that, Dallas. We won’t be dropping any of the balls we got in the air.”

 

“Peabody, see that everyone gets the necessary data.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“If necessary, you can speak with Feeney and/or McNab for e-work, Mira for profiling or shrink shit. If you need a consult with the lab, Dickhead only, unless you run it by me. The lid’s going to blow on this, but the push on that isn’t going to come from this division. I don’t have to tell you, but I’m going to. If and when you’re approached by the media – or any fucking body – your line is it’s not your case, ask Lieutenant Dallas. Last… Slick and Shiny Baxter?”

 

“Yo.”

 

“The flying crap stops with me. It’s why I get paid the slightly less pathetic bucks than you. But… your help and your willingness to offer it – all of you – is appreciated and valued. Dismissed.”

 

As they rose, Jenkinson got to his feet, cleared his throat. “Nobody fucks with our LT. Deal with it,” he told Dallas, then walked out.

 

“That was kind of sweet, in a Jenkinson way,” Peabody commented.

 

Eve just pinched the bridge of her nose. “Jesus. Let’s break this down.”

 

Even as they finished, Trueheart poked his adorably earnest face back in the door. “Sorry, Lieutenant. Nadine Furst is here looking for you.”

 

“Here?”

 

“Yes, sir. Baxter detoured her from your office, so she planted outside the bullpen. We weren’t sure how you wanted to handle it.”

 

“Are we clear here, Peabody?”

 

“We’re clear.”

 

“Send her in here, Trueheart.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“She’s supposed to be in Nevis or somewhere with palm trees and sand – with some stud named Bruno.”

 

“The one with the abs? Like mago abs? She told me about him at your holiday party.”

 

“Apparently he has mago abs. I’ll deal with her. You can start on any names Mira might have sent along. And make sure everyone gets the data they need to start this thing.”

 

“All over it.”

 

Peabody started for the door when Nadine walked in on shiny thigh-high boots over black skin pants, a poppy-red sweater under an open vest, and some sort of furry coat tossed over her arm.

 

“It’s twenty-three degrees out there, with the potential for an ice storm tonight. I left eighty-two and sunny. Your cops wouldn’t let me in, even with this.” She dropped a glossy bakery box on the conference table. “Double-chunk brownies.”

 

Turning down baked goods? Eve thought. Her cops had decided to throw up full shields.

 

“Peabody, take that into the bullpen when you go. No point in denying them chocolate.”

 

“I’m getting mine before they trample me. Double-chunk!”

 

“And probably still warm,” Nadine added. “Hi, Peabody.”

 

“Hey, Nadine, good Christmas?”

 

“It wasn’t bad. You?”

 

“Real good.” Catching Eve’s hairy eyeball, Peabody grabbed the box, got going. “See you!”

 

Nadine tossed the coat on the conference table, set a purse in zebra stripes the size of a cargo freighter – a Christmas gift from Eve – beside it. “Got any real coffee in there?” she asked, gesturing to the AutoChef.

 

“No.”

 

“Hell.”

 

“Where’s Bruno?”

 

“Sulking. It may be time for a tasteful parting gift there. He’s a really nice distraction while I’m deciding if I want more distractions or a long haul. I’m pretty sure I’m still in distraction mode. Anyway, enough about me. What’s your status?”

 

“There wasn’t any need for you to come back here.”

 

Nadine reached into the enormous zebra, pulled out a file case. “Here I have correspondence to me regarding the book and the vid. I’ve already culled through it, eliminated those who couldn’t possibly be involved – such as a fourteen-year-old boy, a woman who recently celebrated her centennial by skydiving, and a scientist currently doing research in the Aleutians. Among others. I know how to do this, Dallas.”

 

“Okay. You still didn’t need to cut your sexcation short and come back.”

 

“Sexcation – I’m stealing that. As fun as that sexcation might have been, you’re my friend. And you’re a damn good cop. Put those in whichever order works for you. Then add, extremely big story when it hits. It’s going to hit, and soon.”

 

“I know it.”

 

“I help you, you help me. It’s what friends do. And really good cops and really good reporters. Tell me what you can, and I’ll work on it – on my own,” she added. “I may not be on sexcation, but I’m not back at work, officially. Just me – no team.”

 

Eve thought longingly of the real coffee in her office – but she wasn’t taking Nadine there. Not this round.

 

“We have a second vic.”

 

“Another?” Nadine dived in the zebra again, pulled out a notepad and pencil. “No recorder – pen and paper – and nobody can read my notes. Name?”

 

“Ledo, Wendall.”

 

“Connection to Bastwick?”

 

“None known. Smallest of small-time illegals dealer. Lived and worked in the Square.”

 

“As far away from Bastwick as it gets. How was he killed?”

 

“A really good reporter could find that out.”

 

“Fine. Connection to you – unless you want me to dig for it.”

 

“Occasional source, largely unwilling. Last altercation he accidentally smacked me with his cue stick – which I’d broken over some other asshole’s skull.”

 

“I see, just another day in the life.” Nadine raised her eyes. “Are you telling me somebody killed him because he knocked you with a cue stick?”

 

“That’s how it reads.”

 

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