Eve wanted to gag. Lansing was degrading the medal by giving it to a civilian purely as a publicity stunt to distract everybody from the monumental disaster that the grocery store shooting really was. If backup for Eve and Duncan had arrived at the sting house, Grayson wouldn’t have had to fire his gun and all three men might still be alive. But the public would never know about that, about Deputy Collier’s intentional dereliction of duty and his motive for it. That was a scandal that Lansing wanted to avoid at all costs.
Look over here at this bright, shiny medal, Eve thought, not at the smelly, disgusting corruption over there.
“You’re grimacing,” Duncan whispered. “Try smiling.”
But nobody was watching her. All eyes were on Lansing and Grayson, posing for photos.
“He shouldn’t be getting the Medal of Valor,” Eve whispered back.
“Now you know how everybody in the department felt when you got promoted to homicide.”
“It’s not Grayson I’m mad at.”
“It’s the sheriff, I know,” Duncan whispered. “You’re objecting to the cheapening of the award for the sake of the department.”
“That’s right,” Eve said.
“The same goes for your badge,” Duncan said.
When the photographers were done, Lansing shook Grayson’s hand. “Have you ever thought about a career in law enforcement?”
“It’s crossed my mind, sir,” Grayson said.
“Well, if that’s what you decide to do, I hope you’ll consider the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department. We could use a man like you.”
“Would you write me a letter of recommendation?”
The crowd roared with laughter and Lansing clapped Grayson warmly on the back.
“Just wear that medal when you apply. It says it all.” Lansing returned to the podium again.
“Oh God,” Eve whispered to Duncan. “He’s not done.”
Lansing said, “Before we go, I am pleased to announce that the spree of home invasion robberies that terrorized Calabasas is over, thanks to the exceptional work by Detectives Eve Ronin and Duncan Pavone, who have conclusively linked the three dead assailants to those crimes.” He looked back at Eve and Duncan and gave them a thumbs-up. Eve forced herself to smile. The crime wasn’t solved yet, not as far as she was concerned. Lansing turned back to the audience, shifting his gaze to the handful of reporters. “Now I’ll be glad to take a few questions.”
The first person he pointed to was Scott Peck, the reporter for The Acorn. He was Eve’s age and eager to get on to the staff of a major newspaper. “Thank you, Sheriff. You’re presenting this investigation as a success, and yet within hours of the Calabasas shootings, you reassigned Captain Moffett from Lost Hills station to the Men’s Central Jail and replaced him with Captain Shaw from Compton, effective immediately. That seems punitive.”
Lansing smiled. “Not at all, Scott. The realigning of personnel was in the works for weeks and, unfortunately, it just happened to fall on the same day as these events unfolded.”
That was a lie, Eve thought, and Lansing wasn’t fooling anyone. It was a game he and the press played.
Beside Peck was Zena Faust, a heavily tattooed blogger for Malibu Beat, and the last person Lansing would ever call on for a question, so she immediately shouted out, “So you’d planned to demote Moffett before this happened? If so, why? Was it because of the Great White scandal?”
Gotcha, Eve thought.
Lansing’s smile wavered. “It’s not a demotion, it’s a lateral move that better utilizes the unique talents of both of these fine captains. Shaw is a terrific leader who will build on the strong foundation left by Moffett, who will make operations at the jail even more efficient, while following through on my commitment to the safety and security of individuals in our care.” He quickly pointed to Kate Darrow, a TV reporter who looked like a supermodel, a quality she often used to disarm her prey into thinking she wasn’t tough and smart. “Yes, Kate?”
“Does that mean deputies won’t be putting rival gang members in the same cell anymore and betting money on who survives?”
“That’s all for today, thank you, everybody, for coming,” Lansing said and turned his back to the audience.
Eve couldn’t blame Darrow for baiting Lansing with that last question. He deserved it for shoveling so much bullshit on them.
She tugged Duncan’s sleeve. “Let’s go before we get dragged into any more PR stunts or a reporter tries to ask us a question.”
Duncan and Eve hopped off the stage and walked toward the parking lot, which was between city hall and the Hilton. He checked his watch and smiled. “There’s still time to catch the breakfast buffet at the Hilton before it closes.”
“No, there isn’t. We need to get to Oakdale right away and follow up on the pregnant maid. We’ve wasted enough time already.”
“Fine, but if I pass out from low blood sugar, it’s on you.”
“Stop whining,” Eve said. “You already had a big breakfast. I can see it on your tie.”
He checked his tie and saw an egg yolk stain. “Damn.”
They took Duncan’s Buick, since it was parked at city hall, and he drove them up to Oakdale’s guard gate. The same guard Eve had seen the previous morning was on duty again. He was young and looked like he’d slept in his uniform and combed his hair with a swipe of his hand. His name tag read HARVEY MAPES. Duncan badged him.