Judgment in Death

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Roarke's midtown offices were in his own sleek black tower that speared up from the street like a shaft into the blue belly of the sky. That sheer ebony lance was a favorite image on the tourists' postcards and holo-cubes.

Inside, it was just as sleek, with edges of the lush, in banks and pools of stunning flowers, tropical trees, acres of animated maps, and an ocean of glossy tile.

Not all the businesses housed in the tower were his. But he owned a piece of most that were, including the shops, restaurants, and chic salons.

He worked on the top floor, which Eve could access through a private elevator. She arrived, unannounced and unexpected, and with a chip the size of a meteor on her shoulder.

The receptionist beamed at her. Because she was a clever and experienced woman, that welcoming smile stayed in place even when she caught the combative expression on Eve's face.

"Lieutenant Dallas, how nice to see you again. I'm afraid Roarke's in a meeting at the moment and can't be disturbed. Is there anything I can do to-"

"Is he back there?"

"Yes, but-Oh, Lieutenant." She scrambled up from her post as Eve marched past her. "Please. You really can't-"

"Watch me."

"It's an extremely important meeting." The receptionist risked her very attractive face by throwing herself in Eve's path. "If you could just wait, possibly ten minutes. They should be breaking for the lunch portion very shortly. Perhaps I can get you some coffee. A pastry."

Eve gave her a considering look. "What's your name?"

"I'm Loreen, Lieutenant."

"Well, Loreen, I don't want coffee or a pastry, but thanks. And I'll be sure to tell Roarke you tried. Now move."

"But I-"

"Tried really hard," Eve added, then simply shouldered Loreen aside and yanked open the door.

Roarke was in front of his desk, leaning back against it, looking cool, casual, and completely in control with the staggering view of the city behind him. He was listening with polite interest to something one of the six people, all sober-suited and seated, said to him. But his gaze shifted to the door as it burst open, and Eve had the pleasure of seeing surprise flash into his eyes.

He recovered instantly. "Ladies, gentlemen." With lazy grace, he straightened. "My wife, Lieutenant Dallas. Eve, the representatives, attorneys, and financial advisers of Green Space Agricultural Port. You know Caro, my admin."

"Yeah, hi. How's it going? We have to talk."

"Excuse me a moment." He walked to the door, took her arm firmly, and pulled her through.

"I'm sorry, sir," Loreen began, nearly stuttering. "I couldn't stop her."

"Don't worry about it, Loreen. No one can. It's all right. Go back to your desk."

"Yes, sir. Thank you." With obvious relief, Loreen fled, with the single-minded intensity of a woman fleeing a burning building.

"This isn't a convenient time, Eve."

"Then you'll have to settle for an inconvenient time, because I have things to say, and I'm saying them now." She peered past him. "Want me to say them in front of the representatives, attorneys, and financial backers of Green Space Agriculture Port and your trusty admin, Caro?"

He didn't care for her mood or the position she put him in. And his hand stayed, a not particularly subtle warning, on her arm. "We'll talk at home."

"We haven't been doing a lot of that lately. I say we talk now." She lifted her chin. A not particularly subtle challenge. "And if you think you can call security and have them change my mind, I'll haul you downtown on some trumped-up charge. In fact, I like the idea of that. I'm making time," she said, quietly now. "You make it."

He studied her face. If he'd seen only temper, he'd had met it with his own or dismissed it. But he saw something more. "Give me ten minutes. Caro?" When his hand ran down Eve's arm like a caress, she felt the clutch in the gut that came with relief. "Would you show my wife to Conference Room C, please?"

"Of course. This way, Lieutenant. Shall I get you some coffee?"

"I got an offer of a pastry with that before, when I scared Loreen."

Caro's smile remained polite as she steered Eve through the corridors, but her eyes twinkled with humor. "I'll make good on that offer. I'm sure you'll be quite comfortable in here." She opened one of a pair of double doors and escorted Eve into a pretty, almost homey room with two cozy seating areas, a gleaming wood bar, and a spectacular and lofty view of the city.

"Doesn't look like any conference room I've ever seen."

"Amazing, really, how much business can be done in comfortable surroundings. What kind of pastry would you like, Lieutenant?"

"Hmm? Oh, I don't know. Whatever. Are you allowed to tell me what that meeting was about?"

"Certainly." Placidly, Caro programmed the AutoChef behind the bar. "Green Space is floundering, though they claim otherwise. Their costs of maintaining the space port have steadily overrun their profits for the past three years. Their production level is down, though the quality of their produce remains very high. Transportation costs, in particular, are taking an enormous bite and causing their overhead to soar."

She removed a china cup and saucer steaming with coffee and a pretty matching plate with a selection of flaky pastries.

"So, is he making them a deal on transpo?"

"Quite possibly. I imagine he'll have done so, and have a controlling interest in the port, with his hand-selected team assigned to restructure Green Space from the ground up, so to speak, before he joins you."

"Caro, do they want to sell him controlling interest?"

"They didn't." She set the tray on a table. "They will before it's done. Is there anything else I can get you, Lieutenant?"

"No. Thanks. Does he always win?"

Caro's smile didn't shift by a single degree. She didn't even blink. "Of course. Just ring Loreen if you need anything." She walked to the door, then turned back, her smile waning a little. "You surprised him, Lieutenant. That's not easy to do."

"Yeah, well," Eve muttered when Caro quietly closed the door, "you ain't seen nothing yet."

She was revved, edgy, and didn't have any interest in the damn pastries. But she ate one anyway, decided the sugar rush could only help, and started on another.

She was licking flakes from her thumb when Roarke walked in. He aimed those eyes at her, closed the door at his back.

Pissed, she thought. Not just surprised but seriously pissed. Good. When you were dealing with the richest and potentially the most deadly man in the world, you needed every advantage you could get.

"I'm pressed for time, so let's save some," he began. "If you're here for an apology regarding last night, you won't get it. Now, is there something else you need to discuss with me? I've people waiting for me."

That's how he worked it, she mused. All those deals, all those wheels. Draw your line in cold, cold sand, then intimidate. He was good at it, but there were any number of cons doing time who could have vouched that Eve Dallas was a bitch in Interview.

"We'll get to that, but since I'm pressed for time myself, let's start right at the beginning and move along. Going to see Ricker was my job, and I'm not apologizing for that."

He inclined his head. "That's one each."

"Okay. I don't know if I'd have told you about it or not. Probably not, if I thought I could skate by it. And I didn't intend to tell you about him sending his hammers after me because I dealt with it."

He could feel temper fighting to get out of his belly and into his throat but said nothing. He merely walked to the bar and got himself a cup of coffee. "I have no dispute over your job, Lieutenant. But the fact is, Ricker and I were connected. You knew that going in. We discussed it."

"That's right. That's right exactly. And we discussed the fact that I would set up a meet."

"You didn't indicate you'd move on that intention immediately, without preparation."

"I don't have to indicate anything when it comes to my work. I just have to do the job. And I was prepared. I knew after five minutes with him that his fondest wish was to get to you. Using me to do that wasn't going to be an option I tossed in his lap."

He studied the pretty pattern on his china cup, even as he fantasized about hurling it against the wall. "I'm quite able to take care of myself."

"Yeah, well, me, too. So what? Did you tell me about your plans to corner the market on broccoli?"

He shot her a look of mild interest. "Excuse me?"

Oh, she hated when he used that formal, adult-to-idiot-child tone on her. And he knew it. "This deal with the Green Space people. Did you bring me in on it?"

"Why would I? Have you developed a stirring interest in fresh produce?"

"It's a big deal, taking them over. It's what you do. You didn't consult me about it. I don't have to consult you about what I do."

"It's an entirely different matter."

"I don't see it that way."

"The representatives of Green Space aren't likely to put out a contract on my life."

"The way you work, they may want to. But yeah, that's a point. On the other hand, dealing with the criminal element is part of the package with me. You married a cop. Live with it."

"I do. This is different. It's my head he wants. Taking yours would simply be a bonus."

"Oh, I got that. I got that as soon as I saw the flowers. Why do you think I panicked?" She strode over, slapped her hands on the bar. "Okay, I panicked, and I don't like knowing it. When I read the card, I was annoyed. And then, it hit me, hit hard what you might do. What he was hoping you'd do, and all I could think was to get rid of them. To make them go away so you wouldn't see them or know about them. Maybe I wasn't thinking at all but just reacting. I was afraid for you. Why isn't that allowed?"

He had no answer for that and, setting the coffee aside, struggled to put his own thoughts in order. "You lied to me."

"I know it, and I said I was sorry. But I'd do it again. I wouldn't be able to stop myself. I don't care if it put your dick in a twist."

He stared at her now, torn between annoyance and amusement. "Do you really think this is about my ego?"

"You're a man, aren't you? I have it on good authority that what I did put a big dent in your ego, which is the same as a kick in the groin to a man."

"And who," he said with deceptive sweetness, "is this authority?"

"I talked to Mavis." She caught the glint in his eye and narrowed her own. "She made sense, and so did Mira. I had a right to talk to somebody since you were freezing me out."

He had to take a minute, had to walk it off. He paced to the window, stared out until reason could make its way through the haze of temper. "All right. You had every right, and every reason to talk to friends. But whether or not some of my reaction had to do with ego isn't the sticking point, Eve. You didn't trust me."

"You're wrong." And if the kick to his ego had made him believe that, she had to fix it. "Altogether wrong. I've never trusted anyone the way I trust you. Don't turn away from me again, damn it. Don't do that. I was afraid," she said when he turned back to her. "I don't deal well with fear. I don't let it in, but it snuck up on me. I wasn't wrong, and neither were you. We were just right on different levels."

"That's an amazing and accurate analysis. One I'd nearly reached myself before I happened upon that little scene last night." He walked to her then, until they were face-to-face. "Do you expect me to take two kicks in the groin, Eve, then just sit meekly, like a puppy when ordered?"

Another time she might have laughed at that image. The man in front of her would never be meek. He would do as he pleased when he pleased, and hang the consequences.

"That was about work."

He took her chin in his hand, fingers strong and firm. "Don't insult me."

"It started out that way, I don't know how it got where it did. Webster had information, confidential, the kind that could get his ass burned for passing it to me. We were going around about it, arguing, then… I don't know what the hell got into him."

"No," Roarke murmured, not particularly surprised. "I see you don't." She was refreshingly, sometimes frustratingly, oblivious to her own appeal.

"He caught me off balance," she continued, "but I'd've dealt with it. Next thing I know, there you are. And the two of you are like a couple of rabid dogs fighting over a bone. Talk about insulting."

"You pulled your weapon on me." He couldn't get over that one. Wasn't sure he ever would.

"That's right." She shoved his hand away from her chin. "You think I'm stupid enough to jump physically between two crazy men trying to break each other's faces? I had it on stun."

"Oh, well then, what am I whining about? You had it on stun." He had to laugh. "Christ, Eve."

"I wouldn't have used it on you. Probably. And if I had, I'd've been really sorry." She tried a smile, thought she saw the hint of one in return. It made her decide to give him the rest of it.

"Then you were standing there, sweaty and messed up and mad as hell. And so fucking sexy. I wanted to jump you, bite you right… there," she said, tracing a finger on the side of his neck. "It wasn't a reaction I was expecting. Before I could work it out, you had me against the wall."

"Slugging you seemed like the less enjoyable of the two options."

"Why weren't you there this morning? Why have you only touched me twice since I've been here?"

"I said I wouldn't apologize for what happened between us last night. I won't. I can't. Still… Still," he repeated and touched her now, just a brush of his fingers on the ends of her hair. "I took your choice away. If not physically," he said before she could argue, "then emotionally. I meant to. It's given me some bad moments since, some concern that it might have reminded you of your childhood."

"My childhood?"

She could have no idea what her confused expression did to him. How it cooled and smoothed every hot and ragged edge inside him. "Your father, Eve."

Now confusion turned to shock. "No. How could you think that? I wanted you. You knew I wanted you. There's nothing between us that would make me…" It stirred hideous images to think of it, but she faced them. "There was no love there, no passion, not even need. He raped me because he could. He raped a child, his own child, because he was a monster. He can't hurt me when I'm with you. Don't let him hurt you."

"I won't say I'm sorry." He lifted his hand, skimmed his fingers over her cheek. "I wouldn't mean it. But I will say I love you. I've never meant anything more."

He drew her into his arms. She pressed her face to his shoulder and held on. "I've been so messed up."

"So have I." He brushed his lips over her hair, felt his world balance again. "I've missed you, Eve."

"I won't let the job screw this up."

"It doesn't. We manage that on our own." He drew her back, touched his lips gently to hers. "But it keeps things lively, doesn't it?"

She sighed, stepped back. "It's gone."

"What is?"

"I've had this low-grade headache for a couple of days. It's gone. I guess you were my headache."

"Darling. That's so sweet."

"Yeah, I'm sugar. Did I queer this Green Space deal for you?"

"Well now, what's a few hundred million in the grand scheme of things?" He'd have played with that awhile, but she looked so appalled. "Just kidding. It's fine."

"Glad you found your sense of humor. Anyway, I've got a lot going on. Maybe, unless you want to talk more about that broccoli, we could go into it later."

"I think we've said all there is to say about broccoli already."

"Good. You know, even though we're all mushy again, it's hard to say this. But I could use some help. Your kind of help on this case."

"Why, Lieutenant, you've made my day."

"I thought it would, though it doesn't do a lot for mine."

Her communicator sounded. She pulled it out, listened to Whitney's aide order her immediately to The Towers. "Acknowledged. There's the bell for the next round," she told Roarke.

"My money's on you."

"So's mine." She rose on her toes, kissed him hard before she broke away to stride to the door. "By the way, ace, you owe me a new lamp."

– =O=-***-=O=-

She was revved and ready to do battle when she entered The Tower. Chief Tibble ruled here, with a steady, if an occasionally ruthless hand.

A great many cops feared him. Eve respected him.

"Lieutenant Dallas." He wasn't behind his desk but stood in front of it. The style, the positioning, made her think of Roarke. Standing put him in control of the people who sat in the room and of the situation that brought them there.

At his signal, she took a seat between Whitney and Captain Bayliss from IAB. Captain Roth sat rigidly on the other side of Bayliss. Feeney lounged, or appeared to lounge, on Roth's far side.

"We'll begin with information that has come to my attention regarding an internal investigation, centering most specifically on the Illegals Division of the One hundred and twenty-eighth Precinct."

"Chief Tibble, I wish to state my objection that such an investigation was initiated and proceeded without my knowledge."

"So noted," he said, nodding at Roth. "However, it is within the authority of the IAB to conduct such an investigation without informing the squad captain. However," he continued, shifting his hard gaze to Bayliss, "neglecting to inform the commander and myself of the operation exceeds that authority."

"Sir." Bayliss started to get to his feet, but Tibble gestured him down.

Good move, Eve mused. Keep the little rodent in his place.

Bayliss kept his seat, but a faint wash of color stained his cheeks. "The Internal Affairs Bureau is allowed some leeway on technical procedure when it deems an investigation warrants secrecy. After consideration of the information, the suspicion of certain leaks and confirmation of others, it was agreed that this operation be held within the confines of IAB and its chosen officers."

"I see." Tibble leaned back against his desk in a way that forced Eve to bite back a small, satisfied smile. "And may I ask, Captain, who made this agreement?"

"It was discussed between myself and several high-ranking members of my division."

"I see. You decided among yourselves to disregard the chain of command."

"Yes, sir." He said it stiffly, stubbornly. "We had reason to believe that the leaks reached up that chain. By informing other departments, we would compromise that investigation before it began."

"Then am I given to understand that Commander Whitney is under suspicion in your division?"

"No, sir."

"Perhaps I am part of your internal investigation."

Bayliss opened his mouth, wisely closed it again to give his brain time to engage. "Sir, you are under no suspicion."

"Any longer?" Tibble finished silkily. "That's a comfort, Captain. And having established that neither myself nor the commander were suspected of infractions or crimes that warrant IAB action, you still neglected to inform either of us of this investigation."

"Witch hunt," Roth said under her breath and earned a glare from Bayliss.

"It seemed unnecessary to do so, sir, until the operation was satisfactorily completed."

"Shall I explain to you, Captain, why you are mistaken?"

Bayliss bore up under the penetrating stare. "No, sir. I regret the oversight. And as ordered, Chief Tibble, all records, all documents, all notes on said operation are now in your possession."

"Including, I presume, all data pertaining to the homicide investigations currently under the hand of Lieutenant Dallas?"

Stubbornness set like concrete on Bayliss's face. "It is my opinion that the two matters do not connect."

"Really? Do you have an opinion on that, Lieutenant, Dallas?"

"Yes, sir. My opinion is that Captain Bayliss has made another error in judgment. Two police officers, both from the One two-eight, have been murdered in under a week by the same hand. I believe that one, Lieutenant Mills, was under IAB investigation and will prove to be guilty of accepting bribes, tampering with evidence, and conspiring to undermine a criminal case. Detective Kohli, an IAB plant, agreed to pose as an NYPSD officer who was also taking. While this portion of the operation is acceptable, the investigation into his death was compromised and tampered with by the withholding of Kohli's status. There is no precedent that I'm aware of that gives IAB the authority to compromise a homicide investigation in order to protect one of its own operations."

"I am also unaware of such a precedent. Captain?"

"Our operation was at a delicate point." He was beginning to ruffle, badly, and swerved in his chair to scowl at Eve. "Look, Kohli went into this eyes open. Nobody pressured him. He wanted the extra duty and the extra pay. We had no reason to believe his life was in danger and every reason to believe that he would, in his position at Purgatory, connect with Ricker."

She wanted to ask what Ricker had to do with Purgatory, but she didn't dare. Not here and now. "And when he was dead, Captain?"

"We couldn't change that, but we felt if we maintained Kohli's cover, let it leak to the primary that he was dirty, it would open opportunities to uncover other leaks in the One twenty-eight."

"You used one of my men," Roth shot out. "Do you think I've got the only squad with a Mills? Cops on the take aren't the exclusive property of my house."

"You've got more than your share of them."

"I was given false information," Eve cut in. "That's a violation of code. Above that-above it, beyond it, over it, and under it-trying to push the investigation of a murdered fellow cop into a dead end, using that dead cop as a blind, is contemptible. As far as I'm concerned, Kohli died in the line of duty. He damn well deserved respect."

"Lieutenant," Whitney muttered, but without heat. "Enough."

"No, sir, it's a long way from enough." When she got to her feet, Tibble said nothing. "IAB has a purpose, because a wrong cop smears all of us. But when some tin desk soldier takes on his own agenda, using his position to order those under his authority to circumvent procedure, tries to twist a homicide investigation for his own purposes, he's as dirty as the cops he purports to hunt."

"You're over the line." Bayliss surged to his feet. "You think you can point the finger at me. I've spent fifteen years keeping the department clean. You're not lily white, Lieutenant. Your husband's link to Ricker may be buried, but it can be dug up. You shouldn't be on this case."

"You will back away from my officer," Whitney said quietly. He held up a hand to waylay Feeney, who'd come out of his chair and was moving toward Bayliss.

"And you will cease and desist any comments on her personal life or her professional abilities. If I were to indulge myself in personal snipes, I would say, with pleasure, that you can only aspire to achieve half the integrity Lieutenant Dallas has. But… I won't so indulge. Chief Tibble, I'd like to make a statement."

Tibble spread his hands. "Commander."

"After reviewing the documentation belatedly provided by Internal Affairs, it is my opinion that Captain Bayliss seriously overstepped his authority and should face disciplinary action. Further, while said data is being analyzed and confirmed, and until the decision is made whether to continue or abort the internal investigation, it's my recommendation that Captain Bayliss take a leave of absence."

"There are cops feeding Ricker," Bayliss objected. "I'm on the point of breaking that network open."

"Be that as it may, Captain, there can be no law without order." Tibble watched him. "Particularly with those of us who have sworn to uphold that law. You'll take leave, with pay and without the suspension of benefits. Disciplinary action will be considered. You are advised to consult your union rep and/or your private attorney. You are dismissed."

"Chief Tibble-"

"Dismissed, Captain. Believe me when I tell you, you don't want me to indulge myself in personal comments at this time."

Bayliss set his teeth, turned on his heel. His eyes burned over Eve before he strode from the room.

"Captain Roth."

"Sir. If I might speak." She got quickly to her feet. "I request that the documentation on the investigation into my squad be made available to me. My men are under suspicion, my house under the gun."

"Captain Roth, your house is a mess. Request denied. You have until noon tomorrow to write a full report and a complete analysis of the status of your squad. I'm making your house my personal business and will expect you in this office with that report and analysis at noon."

"Yes, sir. Chief Tibble?"

"Yes, Captain."

"I accept full responsibility for that status. Mills was under my hand, and I can't claim to have held that hand steady. If, after this situation is resolved, you wish for my resignation-"

"Let's not jump our fences, Captain. Noon tomorrow."

"Yes, sir."

When she left, Tibble once again leaned on his desk. "Now, Lieutenant. Just how deep into this mess are you, and who is your informant? You are required to give me that name when ordered to do so. Consider this such an order."

"Sir, I am hip deep and regret I am unable to follow orders and divulge the name of my informant."

Tibble shot a look at Whitney. "I owe you fifty, it seems. Your commander bet me, and I was foolish enough to accept, that you'd hold the name. It's come to my attention you did a deep search on Captain Roth."

"Yes, sir. I initiated the search as part of my investigation into the homicides of Kohli and Mills. It's my belief they were killed by one of our own."

"So I gather. That's a very serious avenue to walk."

"Yes, sir."

"You suspect Roth?"

"She captains the squad. It would have been negligent not to consider her. I've questioned her, analyzed her data, and run a probability."

"And the result?"

"In the sixties."

"Low, but troubling. I won't take up your time or mine by asking you to go through the steps of your investigation. At this time," he qualified. "But I will ask you, Lieutenant, if your husband is connected to Max Ricker, on a personal level or a business one, and if that connection should concern this office."

"My husband is not connected to Max Ricker on a business level. It is my understanding that at one time, over a decade ago, there may have been some business between them."

"And on a personal level?"

This was tougher. "It was my impression, sir, during my interview with Ricker, that he held a personal grudge against Roarke. He did not specify this, but intimated. Roarke is a successful man, and a glamorized one," she said for lack of a better term. "Such status invites resentment and envy in certain types of individuals. However, I see no reason why a potential grudge held by Ricker for Roarke should concern this office."

"You're honest, Dallas. Carefully so. Almost politically so. And my saying that, I see, insults you."

"Somewhat," Eve managed.

"Do you have any conflict of feeling or loyalty in pursuing a killer who may be a fellow officer, even though the victims were dirty or perceived to be so?"

"None whatsoever. Law and order, Chief Tibble. We uphold the law. We are not allowed to nor are we equipped to judge and sentence."

"Good answer. She does you credit, Jack. Lieutenant," he continued while she dealt with the sheer surprise of his comment, "you'll report your findings to your commander and keep him closely apprised of your progress. Go to work."

"Yes, sir. Thank you."

"One last thing," he said as she reached the door. "Bayliss would like your skin on a rack-roasted."

"Yes, sir, I'm aware of that. He wouldn't be the first."

When the door closed, Tibble went behind his desk. "It's a fucking mess, Jack. Let's pick up some shovels and start cleaning it up."