Purity in Death

CHAPTER THREE

When Eve swung back into Homicide to snap up Peabody, several of the detectives in the bullpen sent meaningful looks her way.

"Rat in the hole," Baxter commented as he walked past her, and jerked his head toward her office.

"Thanks." She hooked her thumbs in the front pockets of her trousers and headed into her office.

Lieutenant Don Webster sat in her single spare chair, his polished shoes kicked up on her cluttered desk. He was drinking her coffee.

"Hey, Dallas. Been a little while."

"But somehow never long enough." She knocked his feet off her desk. "Is that my coffee in that mug?"

He took a long sip, let out a happy sigh. "It must be nice, being able to call up the real thing whenever you're in the mood. How is Roarke these days?"

"Is this a social call? Because I don't have time to chat. I'm on duty."

"Not social, but it could be friendly." He moved his shoulders when her expression stayed set and stony. "Or not. Gotta say though, you're looking just swell."

She reached behind her, shut the door. "You'd have gotten the report of the incident occurring yesterday between nineteen hundred and nineteen-thirty involving a uniformed officer assigned to Central who, while off-duty, responded to-"

" Dallas." Webster held up a hand. "I got the report. I know the incident. I know Officer Troy Trueheart-hell of a name, huh-is in Testing at this time. Internal Affairs will interview the subject and investigate the termination after the results of said Testing are evaluated."

"He's twenty-two years old. He's still green but he's solid. I'm asking you to go easy on him."

Irritation settled over his face. Toughened it. "You think I get up in the morning thinking about how many cops I can destroy that day?"

"I don't know what you or the rest of your pack think about." She started to order coffee for herself, then spun around. "I thought you were coming back. I thought you'd decided to be a cop again."

"I am a goddamn cop."

"After all that dirt came out from inside IAB-"

"That's why I stayed in." He said it quietly, and cut off her tirade. "I thought about it." He pushed a hand through his wavy brown hair. "I thought about it long and hard. I believe in the Bureau, Dallas."

"How? Why?"

"Checks and balances. We need checks and balances. When there's power there's corruption. They go hand-in-hand. A wrong cop's got no right to a badge. But he deserves having another cop see it's taken from him."

"I've got no use for dirty cops." Annoyed with the world in general, she took the coffee mug from him and drank. "Damn it, Webster, you were good on the street."

It gave him a quick zip to hear her say it. To know she meant it. "I'm good in the Bureau. I think I make a difference."

"By hammering at a rookie like Trueheart because he did what he had to do to protect a civilian and himself?"

"You know, the first thing I did when I went back into IAB was move out all the racks, thumbscrews, and other torture devices. I read the report, Dallas. It's clear there was immediate jeopardy. But there are holes, and there are questions. You know it."

"I'm looking into it. Let me clear it up."

"You know. I'd love to do you a favor, just so you'd owe me one. But he has to be interviewed, he has to make a statement. He can have his rep there. He can have you there. Jesus, Dallas, we're not looking to fuck this kid over. But when a uniform terminates using his weapon it has to be reviewed."

"He's clean, Webster. He's goddamn spanking clean."

"Then he's got nothing to worry about. I'll take it personally if that means anything to you."

"I guess it does."

"You tell Roarke you were tagging me for this? Or is he going to get riled up so I have to kick his ass again?"

"Oh, is that what you were doing when you had to be carried out of the room unconscious?"

"I like to remember it that I was just getting my second wind."

Webster rubbed a hand over his jaw. He could still remember what Roarke's fist had felt like plowing into it. Like a well-aimed brick.

"Whatever works for you. And I don't report to Roarke."

"You go on thinking that." He took the coffee back from her, finished it off. "You're so married I see little lovebirds circling over your head."

It mortified, right down to her toes. "Roarke's not the only one who can knock you unconscious."

"I really like the look of you." He grinned when her eyes narrowed. "Just looking," he assured her. "No touching. Learned my lesson there. You can trust me to keep it clean, personally and professionally. That good enough for you?"

"If it wasn't, I wouldn't have called you."

"Check. I'll be in touch." He opened the door, glanced back. He really did like the look of her-lean and tough and sexy. "Thanks for the coffee."

Alone, she shook her head. She could hear the noise level drop into silence from the bullpen as Webster walked through it. He'd chosen a very hard road, she thought. A badge who policed other badges was regarded with suspicion, derision, and fear.

A slippery line to walk. She supposed, all in all, she liked him well enough to hope he kept his balance.

She checked her wrist unit, judged how much longer Trueheart would be in Testing. More than enough time, she thought, for her to browbeat Morris for results on Cogburn.

They were stacked and racked and packed in the morgue. Rarely in eleven years on the job had Eve seen so many corpses in one place at one time.

A trio of the bagged and tagged were laid out on gurneys and shoved against the wall outside of one of the autopsy suites.

Take a number, she thought. Too late to be protected, but you'll be served eventually.

As Eve strode down the bright white corridor of the dead, Peabody hustled beside her.

"Man, this place is always a little spooky, but this is beyond. You know how you half expect one of these bags to sit up and grab at you?"

"No. Wait out here. If one of them makes a run for it, give me a call."

"I don't think that's particularly funny." And watching the still black bags warily, Peabody took her post at the door.

Inside Morris was busy at work, a laser scalpel mid-way through the Y cut on one of the six bodies splayed out on tables.

He wore goggles over his pleasant face, a plastic hood over his long, dark braided hair, and a clear protective coat over a natty navy blue suit.

"What's the point in having voice mail if you don't talk to it?" Eve demanded.

"A lot of unexpected company dropped in this morning, due to an airtram collision. Didn't you catch the report? Bodies dropping out of the sky like flying monkeys."

"If they could fly they wouldn't be bagged and tagged. How many?"

"Twelve dead, six injured. Some jerk in an airmini rammed it. Tram pilot managed to hold the controls most of the way down, but people panicked. Add to that the knife fight at a club that took both participants and one bystander, the Jane Doe female found stuffed in a recycler, and your everyday bashings, bludgeonings, and brutalities and we've got ourselves a full house."

"I've got a police termination with some questions. Rookie uniform stuns crazy guy, crazy guy dies. No sign of stunner contact on vic. Stunner confiscated from officer was set on low."

"Then it didn't kill him."

"He's dead as the rest of your guests."

Morris completed his Y cut. "Only way a noncontact zap with a uniform stunner would take out a man, crazy or not, would be if said potential crazy man had a respiratory or neurological condition of such seriousness that the electronic jolt acerbated it and led to termination."

It was exactly what she'd wanted to hear. "If that's the case, it's not actually a termination by maximum force."

"Technically, no. However-"

"Technically will do. Be a pal, Morris, take a look at him. It's Trueheart."

Morris looked up and shoved the goggles up. "The kid with the peach fuzz on his face that looks like a screen ad for toothpaste?"

"That's the one. He's in Testing. IAB's next. And something doesn't hang about the way this went down. He could use a break."

"Let me look him up."

"He's over there. Number four in line." She jerked a thumb.

"Let me pull the report up."

"I can-"

"Let me read it" Morris cut her off with a wave of the hand and moved over to the data center. "Name of crazy dead guy?"

"Cogburn, Louis K."

Morris called up the field report As he read, he hummed to himself. It was some catchy little tune, vaguely familiar to her. And it started playing around in her head in a way that told her it would be stuck there for hours.

"Illegals dealer," Morris began. "Could've been over-sampling, heart or neurological damage possible. Bleeding from ears, nose, broken blood vessels in the eyes. Hmm."

He moved to the table where Louie K. was laid out, skinny and naked. He refit the goggles, lowered his face so close to Louie's it looked as though he was about to kiss the dead.

"Record on," he said and began to dictate preliminary data, visual findings.

"Well, let's open him up, see what we see. You going to hang for this?"

"Yeah, if it's quick."

"One doesn't rush genius, Dallas." He picked up a skull saw, set it to whirl.

Eve often wondered why anyone chose this particular line of work, or how they could be so cheerful when going about it. At least the air in the room was cool, she thought and wandered over to study the offerings of the little fridgie. She settled for a tube of ginger ale before walking back to Morris.

"What do you-"

"Ssh!"

She scowled, but subsided. Morris was usually chatty when he worked. In this case he went about the job in silence, referring to the inside of Cogburn's skull, to the computer imagery on the screen beside the table.

She studied it herself, but saw nothing but shapes and colors.

"You do a medical search on this guy?"

"Yeah. He hasn't been in for any sort of work or check in a couple of years. Nothing popped."

"Oh yeah, something popped. His brain, and no standard stunner did this damage. No tumor that I can see. No clotting. If it was an embolism there should be… What we've got is severe intercranial pressure. His brain's massively swollen."

"Preexisting?"

"I can't tell, not yet. This is going to take time. Fascinating. Pop's just what this brain did. Like an over-inflated balloon. I can tell you that in my opinion this wasn't done by any weapon. It's internal."

"Medical then."

"I'm not going to confirm that. I'm going to run some tests." He shooed her away. "I'll contact you when I have something solid."

"Give me something."

"I can tell you it appears this guy's brain was in serious condition, an ongoing condition prior to any act by your officer last evening. What happened here didn't happen as a result of a stun. It didn't happen if he'd stuck a police issue laser in the guy's ear and blasted away. I can't say if the stun caused some sort of chain reaction that led to early termination. But from the looks of this brain, this guy would've been dead within an hour. I'll let you know when I figure out how and why. Now go and let me work."

Eve bypassed the seal on Cogburn's apartment. The stench, the stale, trapped heat punched like a dirty fist when she opened the door.

"God. That's foul."

"Oh yeah." Peabody turned her head, sucked in what she imagined was her last easy breath, then followed Eve inside.

"Go ahead and open the window while we're in here. It's got to be better than working in a closed box."

"What are we looking for?"

"Morris's prelim is leaning toward preexisting condition. We may find something in here to verify that, to indicate he was self-medicating. The place looks like he was off, sick. That's what struck me from the first. He's a creep, but a tidy, organized creep. Keeps his nest neat ordinarily. But the last several days, he's falling down on the domestic front. Keeping up with his business though. You're sick, you're hot, you're irritable. Neighbor hassles you, you crack. Makes better sense."

"But, well, it doesn't really matter why Cogburn had batting practice on his neighbor."

"It always matters why," Eve answered. "Ralph Wooster's dead, and Cogburn's paid for it. But it matters why."

She opened drawers she'd opened and searched the day before. "Maybe he had a hard-on for Wooster all along. Maybe he wanted to shag Ralph's woman, or owed him money. And now he's feeling like shit and old Ralph's hammering on his door and yelling at him."

She crouched down, shined a penlight deep into the recesses of a cupboard. "Point is, something made him snap, go postal. Could be his brain was frying. Morris said he was a dead man."

"Even so, Trueheart's in Testing." Peabody glanced at her wrist unit. "Or just coming out of it. He'll have to face IAB whether or not Cogburn had a preexisting."

"Yeah, but he'll feel better if it comes out he gave the guy the standard and acceptable stuns, and a preexisting was the root or cause of death. We get him that, he won't get the mandatory thirty-day vacation."

She stayed crouched, frowning into space. "Anyway, I don't like how it feels. Just don't like it."

"What's that song you're humming?"

Eve stopped, cursed herself, straightened. "I don't know. Damn Morris. Let's knock on doors."

It was amazing how many people lost their sense of hearing or their ability to communicate in coherent sentences when a badge was involved.

More than half the doors Eve knocked on remained firmly shut, and whatever sounds emitting from inside were stifled instantly. The doors that opened revealed people no more helpful, with responses that ranged fromIdunno toI didn't hear nothing from nobody.

On the first floor, in apartment 11F, Eve's dwindling patience was rewarded.

The blonde was young and looked half asleep. She wore a tiny pair of white panties and a thin tank. She yawned hugely in Eve's face, then blinked at the badge when it was shoved in front of her.

"My license is paid up. I got six more months till renewal, and I just had my mandatory health check. I got the okay."

"Good to know." As licensed companions went this one was on the young side and still looked fresh. The license was likely in its first year. "I'm not here about that. This concerns what happened on the fourth floor yesterday."

"Oh! Wow! That was sure something. I hid in the closet until the screaming stopped. I was really scared. There was a big fight and people got killed and stuff."

"Did you know either of the men who got killed?"

"Sort of."

"Can we come inside. Miss…"

"Oh, oh, I'm Reenie, Reenie Pike-well Pikowski, but I'm changing it to Pike because, you know, it's sexier. I guess so-about coming in. My trainer said how we were supposed to cooperate with the police so we didn't get rousted and stuff."

She was, Eve thought, the Trueheart of the licensed companion crowd. Still shiny and innocent despite her chosen occupation. "That's a good policy, Reenie. Why don't we all have some cooperation. Inside."

"Okay, but the place is kinda messy. I sleep during the day, mostly, especially since it's so hot. Super hasn't fixed the climate control. I don't think that's right."

"Maybe I can talk to him for you," Eve offered as she eased inside the door.

"Really? That would be great. It's hard to bring clients back here because it's too hot for sex and stuff, and I'm only licensed for street work and most street clients don't want to pop for a hotel room and stuff. You know?"

The furniture was spare, the layout identical to Cogburn's. Disorder came from scattered clothes in bright, come-hither colors, in the trio of wigs tossed about like tangled scalps and the army of cosmetic enhancements jumbled on the chest under the window.

The air was hot enough to bake cookies.

"What can you tell me about Louis Cogburn?" Eve began.

"He liked it straight and quick. No fancy stuff."

"That's really interesting, Reenie, but I wasn't really asking about his sexual preferences. But since you mention it, was he a regular client?"

"Sort of." She moved around the room, picking up clothes, tossing them into a closet. "Once every couple weeks since I moved in. He was real polite about it, said how it was nice having anLCright in the building. He said how we could work out a trade, but I told him I'd sooner the money 'cause I'm saving up for on-call status, and I don't do illegals and stuff. Oh." She slapped a hand on her mouth. "I didn't mean to say about him dealing, but I guess it's okay since he's dead."

"And stuff. Yeah, we know about his business. Did he ever fight with any of the other tenants before yesterday?"

"Oh no, nuh-uh. He was real quiet, and like I said, polite and stuff. Kept to himself mostly."

"Did he ever mention Ralph Wooster or Suzanne Cohen to you, any problem or grudge he had regarding them?"

"Nuh-uh. I sort of know Suze. Sort of. I mean to say hello to, and howzit. And just a few days ago we sat out on the stoop and had a brew 'cause it was so hot inside. She's nice. She said how she and Ralph were thinking about getting married and stuff. She works at a 24/7 around the corner and he does the bouncing at a club. I forget which one. Maybe I should go see her in the hospital."

"I bet she'd appreciate that. Did you notice anything different about Mr. Cogburn in the last few days?"

"Sort of. Hey, you want a cold drink? I got some Fizzy Lemon."

"No, that's okay. You go ahead."

"I could use some water," Peabody put in. "If you don't mind."

"Sure, okay. Is it hard being a cop and stuff?"

"It can be." Eve watched Reenie's pert little butt lift as she bent down to find her Fizzy Lemon in the fridgie. "But it shows you… all sides of the human condition."

"You see lots as anLC, too."

"What did you see different about Mr. Cogburn recently?"

"Well…" Reenie came back with a glass of water for Peabody, then took a moment to sip delicately at her soft drink. "Take the day Suze and I were on the stoop. Louie K. walked up on his way in. He looked kinda bad, you know all pale and sweaty and tuckered out and stuff. So I said, you know, hot enough for you? And he gave me this real nasty look and told me I should keep my mouth shut if all I could say was something stupid."

Her unpainted lips moved into a pretty little pout. "Really hurt my feelings, but you know, Louie K.'s just not mean like that and he really didn't look good, so I said, aw, Louie K., you look all worn out. You want some of my brew? And for a minute, he looked like he was gonna be nasty again, and Suze got all stiff. But then he sort of rubbed at his face and said how he was sorry he said that, and how the heat was getting to him and he had this bad headache and stuff. I said I had some blockers if he wanted, which, I guess, was stupid, too, 'cause of his business. But he didn't say so and just said how he'd maybe lay down awhile and try to sleep off the headache."

She paused a minute as if thinking it through. "And like that," she concluded.

"Did you see him between that time and yesterday?"

"Not to see. But I heard him yesterday morning. I was sleeping, but he woke me up pounding on the super's door and yelling at him to fix the climate control. He was cursing up a streak, which wasn't something you heard him do a whole lot, but the super didn't open the door, and Louie K., he went on back up, not out like he did most days."

"He went back up to his apartment after trying the super."

"Yeah, and that's kinda strange 'cause Louie K. was really, you know, like disciplined about work. I don't think he'd gone out for a while, now that you mention it. Anyway I was getting dressed yesterday when I heard all the yelling and the crashing upstairs. I only peeked out for a second, and saw that cute cop come running in. Then I hid in the closet. The cute cop was calling out for somebody to call 911. I guess I should've, but I was awfully scared and stuff."

"You heard the responding officer call for someone to call for police backup?"

Reenie bowed her head. "Yeah. I'm sorry I didn't help, but I thought somebody else would and I was scared. I guess it wouldn't have made a difference anyway because it all got over pretty fast. The cop guy, the cute guy, I think he's a real hero to go up there the way he did when everybody else stayed inside where it was safe. Maybe, if you see him and stuff you could tell him I said so. And I feel bad I didn't help."

"Sure," Eve replied. "I'll let him know."

Rather than write an updated report, Eve opted to go straight to Commander Whitney with an oral. She had to wheedle a five-minute window through the commander's assistant but she was willing to take what she could get for the impact of a face-to-face.

"Thank you for making time, Commander."

"If I could make time, my day would be a lot less harried. Make it fast, Lieutenant."

He continued to read whatever data was on his desk screen. His profile was stony. The bulk of him suited the large and currently cluttered desk as did the weight of his command. Both that bulk and that weight, Eve had reason to know, carried steely muscle.

"Regarding the incident involving Officer Trueheart, sir. I've gathered additional data, which indicates the terminated assailant may have suffered from a preexisting that caused his death. ME Morris is still running tests but has stated that due to this condition the subject would have died within the hour."

"Morris shot me a brief prelim on that. You have loyal associates, Dallas."

"Sir. Trueheart has completed Testing by now. Results should be in by morning. I'd like to postpone any IAB involvement until the investigation into yesterday's incident shows clearly if any such involvement is warranted or necessary."

Whitney turned to her now, his wide, dark face closed. "Lieutenant, do you have any reason to believe that a standard IAB investigation and interview will cast any shadow on the actions taken by this officer?"

"No, Commander."

"Then let it ride. Let it ride," he repeated before she could speak. "Let the boy stand for himself. Let him clear himself. He'll be the better for it. Having you in his corner is one thing. Having you stand as a shield is another entirely."

"I'm not trying to…" She trailed off, realizing she was doing just that. "Permission to speak frankly, Commander."

"As long as it's brief."

"I feel some responsibility as I brought Trueheart in from his former detail. A few months ago he was seriously injured on one of my ops. He follows orders to the letter and he has a lot of spine. But his instincts are still developing, and his skin's still thin. I just don't want to see him take any more hits over this than he deserves."

"If he can't stand up to it, better he finds out now. You know that, Dallas."

"If there's a preexisting, mandatory thirty day can be waived. You know that, Commander, as you know the emotional and mental distress even a by-the-book suspension can bring on. He responded to a call for help. He put himself on the line, without hesitation."

"He failed to call for backup."

"Yes, sir, he did. Did you ever fail to call for backup?"

Whitney's eyebrows lifted. "If I did, I deserved to get kicked for it."

"I'll kick him."

"I'll consider the waiver, Lieutenant, once all data and results are in and studied."

"Thank you, sir."

Huddled in his cube, Halloway ran another series of scans on the Cogburn unit. And groused.

Play a little Crusader on your break, and you get all the shit details dumped on you. Who the hell cared about the data stored on the drive of a dead kiddie dealer's unit? What was Feeney going to do? Tattle on the pint-sized clients to their mommies?

Four hours, he thought, and popped a blocker for the vicious headache trumpeting inside his skull. Four frigging hours dicking with useless data on a useless second-rate unit all because bigshot Dallas comes begging to bigshot Feeney.

He sat back, rubbed his blurry eyes.

He couldn't get past the shield on this Purity transmission. Cogburn hadn't generated the message. That much he'd verified. It had come from outside, but so the fuck what?

Absolute Purity. Probably some sort of baby lotion.

His head was killing him. And God, it was hot in here. Damn climate control must've gone out again. Nobody did their jobs anymore. Nobody but him.

He shoved away from the desk, pushed out of his cube, desperate for water, for air.

He elbowed other cops out of his way, earned himself some inventive suggestions on self-gratification.

At the water cooler, he glugged down cup after cup as he tracked the movements of his associates.

Look at them. Like a bunch of ants in a nest. Somebody ought to do the world a favor and squash some ants.

"Hey, Halloway." McNab bounced in fresh from a field assignment. "How's it going? Heard you caught a shit detail."

"Fuck you, asshole."

Temper rolled over McNab's face, but then he noted Halloway's pallor, and the beads of sweat. "You look a little wasted. Maybe you should take a break."

Halloway downed more water. "Somebody's gonna get wasted. Get off my case before I show the rest of these dickweeds what a pansy Feeney's pet really is."

"You got a problem with me?" If so, it was a new one. To that point McNab and Halloway had flowed along smoothly. "We can take it down to the gym and work it out. See who's the pansy of EDD."

Feeney swept in, stopped by the cooler when he felt the hot wall of tension. "McNab, I want that report ten minutes ago. Halloway, you got all this time to stand around the cooler I can find more for you to do. Move it."

"Later," Halloway muttered under his breath, and stalked back to his cube with his head raging.