Treachery in Death

Fourteen

SHE HEARD THE YAP-YAP-YAP OF WHAT SOUNDED like a small canine, then the slide of bolt, the click of opening locks.

The man who opened the door was big—Arena Ball-tackle big—with massive shoulders, tree-trunk legs, and bricklayer biceps.

He gave her a friendly smile as he stood with his bulk barring the entire doorway.

“Hi. What can I do for you?”

“I’m looking for Detective Strong.” She shifted her gaze down to the puffball with teeth dancing at his feet. “Lieutenant Dallas, NYPSD.”

“She doesn’t bite,” he said. “She just wants you to think she’s fierce.” Bending, he scooped the puffball into his hand and made shushing noises. “Lilah! Cop at the door.”

“Yeah? What cop?”

Strong looked around the man’s mass, and her eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Lieutenant Dallas.”

“Detective. Can I come in?”

“Ah, sure ...” Obviously off guard, Strong looked around the room the way people did when unexpected company made them wonder how big a mess they had lying around.

In Strong’s case it was minimal in a simply furnished living area set up for comfort.

“Tic, this is Lieutenant Dallas, Homicide, out of Central. Tic Wendall.”

Tic offered a hand the size of a meat platter, and the careful way he took hers made her think of Mavis’s Leonardo. Big men with gentle ways.

“Nice to meet you.”

“The same. Sorry to interrupt your evening. Detective, I’d like to talk to you for a few minutes.”

“Why don’t I give you ladies the room,” Tic began, “and take Rapunzel out for her walk?”

At the word walk the dog wiggled in Tic’s hold and did her level best to lap the skin off his face. He set the dog down. “Get your leash, girl.”

At the command the tiny dog scurried off in a storm of delight.

“Thanks, Tic.”

“No problem.” He took a poop bag out of a box near the door, and when the dog came back with a bright pink leash clamped in the tiny teeth, he clipped it on her jeweled collar.

“Back soon,” he told Strong, and kissed her in a way that told Eve they’d been together long enough to be casual.

Eve waited until the door closed behind them. “You have a dog named Rapunzel that’s the size of a well-fed rat?”

“Tic has the dog. She’s all hair, so, she’s Rapunzel. He takes her everywhere—even to work.”

“What’s he do?”

“He’s a lawyer—tax attorney.”

“I figured him for Arena Ball, plowing the field.”

“Tic lacks the killer instinct. Sweetest man I’ve met in all my life, and I don’t think you came here to talk about my guy.”

“No. Can we sit?”

“Okay.” Strong switched off the screen, pointed to a chair. “Tic does some home-brew,” she said, nodding at the bottles on the coffee table. “Do you want one?”

“Wouldn’t say no,” Eve told her, knowing sharing a couple of short brews indicated the visit wasn’t official.

She took her seat, then the bottle Strong offered. She sipped. “Good. Smooth.”

“He’s got a knack.” Strong dropped down on the couch but didn’t relax. “What are you after, Lieutenant?”

“You know I’m investigating a homicide that crosses with your squad.”

“That’s no secret.”

“Did you ever meet my vic? Keener?”

“Never had the pleasure.”

“Did the squad give him space because he was the boss’s weasel?”

“Maybe.” Strong took a hit of brew. “Myself, I never had any reason to roust him.”

“You’re mostly riding a desk now.”

Her face remained absolutely neutral. “A lot of work gets done at a desk.”

“It can. You’re a street cop, Detective, and your previous record on the street’s solid. It makes me wonder why your lieutenant has you doing follow-ups and writing up reports.”

“You’d have to ask her.”

“I’m asking you.”

Strong shook her head. “If you think I’m going to whine and bitch about my LT, you’re going to be disappointed. It’s no secret either, sir, you and Oberman are butting heads. You want dish? I’m not serving it.”

“You don’t like how she runs the squad. You don’t have to say anything.” Eve gestured casually with the brew bottle. “I’m just stating my personal observations. You don’t like being behind a desk when you know damn well you’d do more good on the street. You think it’s bullshit—the suits and ties, the shiny shoes—and the tone of the squad, that always reflects the boss, precludes any personality, any sense of partnership. You don’t like the closed-door meetings behind the shutters, or her daily fashion parade, or the fact that she acts like a CEO instead of a cop. It’s not a squad, it’s her personal kingdom—and her next stepping stone to captain’s bars.”

When Strong said nothing, Eve nodded, sat back. “I know something else. If another cop slammed me like that to one of my men, there’s not one in my division who’d sit there and say nothing.”

Strong shrugged. “I bet there are a whole bunch of people in the city who don’t especially like their boss.”

“Like doesn’t mean dick. Respect does, and you don’t respect her. Giving her respect,” Eve expanded, “isn’t the same as feeling it. She knows you don’t. It’s only one of the reasons your evals have gone down since you joined the squad.”

The first sign of anger rippled over Lilah’s face. “How do you know about my evals?”

“I know a lot of things. I know Oberman isn’t just a lousy cop. I know she’s dirty.”

Strong shook her head, stared fiercely across the room.

“Your gut’s told you the same,” Eve continued. “You’re too good not to have caught a whiff. Too good not to wonder why so many weigh-ins come in light.”

“If there was a problem with the weigh-ins, there’d be questions up the line.”

“Not when she’s got somebody covering the numbers in Property, in Accounting. You’ve got experience, contacts—valuable ones. But who gets the heavy cases? Bix? Garnet? Marcell? Manford? Manford and Freeman tried to tail me here tonight.”

Strong’s gaze snapped back to Eve’s.

“I’m better than they are,” Eve told her. “No worries. They tried because earlier today Oberman finally figured out I’m not going to play ball. Shutting me out hasn’t worked. She has to think about shutting me down, has to figure out where I’m going, and why I’m going there.”

Eve took out her PPC, called up a file—then handed it to Strong. “That’s my vic.”

Lilah studied the crime scene shot. “That’s a bad end.”

“Bix ended him, on Oberman’s orders.”

With some force, Lilah shoved the PPC back at Eve, pushed to her feet to pace away. “Goddamn it. Goddamn it.”

“I know this for a fact. I have a witness who overheard Oberman telling Garnet just that, who overheard her discussing business, the dirty money.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Lilah leaned her hands against the narrow kitchen counter that separated the living space from a kitchenette.

“She’s built her organization over years.” Eve rose as well. “Using her father’s name, sex, bribery, threats, guile—whatever it takes. Including killing other cops.”

At the statement, Lilah’s face went blank.

“Not herself—I don’t know if she’s got the stones for it. Bix seems to be her primary weapon. But she has others. Marcell and Freeman am-bushed Marcell’s old partner. Detective Harold Strumb. I’m moving to prove she was also responsible for the death of Detective Gail Devin, who served under her briefly. Devin’s record, her style—a lot like yours. If she can’t weed out cops who aren’t useful to her, or who start looking too close, she eliminates them.”

“You can’t prove any of this.” Lilah’s throat rippled as she swallowed. “If you could she’d be in a cage right now.”

“I will prove it. Count on it. You’re not with her, Detective. I’m not wrong about that. She’s got a twelve-man unit. Garnet, Bix, Freeman, Marcell, Palmer, Manford, Armand. That’s seven out of twelve I know or am damn close to knowing are on the take—and worse—with her. I put you on the other side. What about the other four?”

“You want me to pimp out my squad, my boss?”

“How many more cops have to die before somebody stands up and takes her down?” The fury edged through now, couldn’t be contained. “You know she’s dirty, Lilah. You were hot when I said it, but you weren’t surprised.”

“I can’t prove anything. No, I don’t like the way she runs the squad. There’s a lot I don’t like. But I worked hard to get into Central. It’s where I want to work. In another six months, I’m going to put in for a transfer to another squad. If I do it now, it looks like I can’t stick.”

Lilah picked up her brew, rubbed the chilled bottle over her forehead as if to cool it. “I want to do the job. I need to get back out and do the job so I know it matters if I get up in the morning. She gives me some raps in my evals, I can take it. I can sit a desk for a year as long as I know at the end of it, I’ll be back doing what I’m trained to do. Who’s going to work with me, Lieutenant? Who’s going to trust me if I turn on my own?”

“Okay. I appreciate the time.”

“That’s it?” Lilah demanded. “You come here, lay all this on me, then you appreciate the time.”

“I’m not going to try to talk you into something that’s against your instincts. Mine brought me here. If they’re wrong, and anything I’ve said here gets back to Oberman, I’ll know where it came from. Otherwise, I’ve got no problem with you. I may not agree with where you stand, Detective, but I understand it. I can’t promise you a damn thing. I can’t tell you if you cooperate here it’ll all be roses when it’s done. I can’t promise other cops will pat you on the back.”

“I don’t give a shit about that.”

“Yes, you do. We all do. Because if we can’t count on each other, we can’t count on anyone, or anything. And that alone makes Renee Oberman the worst of the worst.

“Thanks for the brew.”

“Asserton’s not in it.”

Eve paused at the door, turned back. “Why?”

“She gives him mostly bullshit assignments—which is more than she usually gives me. Has him doing a lot of PR with schools, playing Officer Friendly. He’s a street cop. He’s riding it out. His wife had a baby a few months ago, and the assignments, the hours make it easier to deal. But he’s starting to get itchy. I know he’s thinking about transferring—out of the squad and Illegals.

“He sneaks pictures of his kid in to show me. He hates Oberman’s guts.”

“Okay.”

“If Manford’s in, so’s Tulis.” On a sigh, Lilah pressed fingers to her temple. “They’re practically joined at the hip. Tulis likes to hassle the street LCs into giving him free samples. He tried to cop a feel on me in the break room.”

“How long before he could use his hand again?” Eve wondered.

Lilah’s smile flickered, but died. “I punched him in the face, and I reported the incident to Oberman, immediately. The upshot was Manford swore he was in there, too, and Tulis never touched me, only told a dirty joke and I overreacted.”

“Tulis makes eight.”

“Brinker’s sleeping his way through until he gets his twenty. He’s looking at private security so he can sleep his way through that. I’d say Oberman’s setup is too much effort for him. Sloan, she keeps her head down and her mouth shut. She wants the desk. She got roughed up pretty good during an altercation with a couple dealers last year. The fact is, Lieutenant, Sloan lost her belly for the street.”

“It happens,” Eve agreed.

“Maybe she knows or suspects, but I don’t think she’d be involved. I don’t think Oberman would trust her.”

“I agree. That’s all good to know.”

Lilah sat, rubbed her hands over her face. “She carries a disposable’link. I opened her door once, poked my head in without waiting for her come-ahead, and she was on it. She reamed me—you’d’ve thought I’d walked in on her having sex with the commander.”

Lilah dropped her hands. “I think she’s got a hide in her office.”

Interesting, Eve thought, as she suspected the same. “Why do you think that?”

“She keeps the place locked like a fort most of the time. The only reason I could poke my head in that day was because Garnet had just come out, and she hadn’t locked the door again. That door is locked more than it’s not, and the blinds are always closed. Always. But I think maybe she’s got eyes and ears on the squad room.”

Blinds down so she can’t be seen, Eve mused, but wants to keep the hawkeye on her men.

“Back when I first transferred,” Lilah told her, “I got a couple prime tips. Before I could move on them, she dumped a bullshit assignment on me. Both times I told her I had something hot, and she ordered me to pass the heat to Garnet. One time? Maybe. Not twice.

“Same deal for Asserton,” she added. “She’s dumped him into something crap just when he hit on hot. I’m pretty sure the break room’s covered, too. Asserton showed me a picture of his kid in there, right after he was born. Ten minutes later, Oberman’s calling him in to remind him of her policy against personal items in the squad.”

“Will he talk to me? Asserton?”

“I think he will. But ... I know he’ll talk to me. We grab lunch together sometimes. He’s the only one in the squad I feel a connection to.”

“You be sure, absolutely sure, before you do. You don’t talk in the squad room, or in Central. You don’t talk by ’link or e-mail. Face-to-face, somewhere you can be sure nobody’s listening.”

“You already figured he wasn’t in it. You wouldn’t give me the go like this just on my take.”

“He was my next stop if you said no. But you confirmed my take on him. Don’t be so sure Brinker’s sleeping—he’s still an unknown for me. People who look like they’re not paying attention are often the ones who are.”

“I wouldn’t put him with her. I can’t see it.”

“Maybe he’s not,” Eve said. “But he’s been in the squad nearly as long as she’s had command. Nobody lasts that long unless they’re in it, or she has another use for them. Sloan, she’s probably going to be clear because Oberman doesn’t like to work with women—but we’re not moving there as yet either. Sloan took a hard knock. Hard knocks can convince people to go along.”

“Can you tell me how far you’re into this?”

“I’m hoping to access some data tonight, tomorrow latest that will put some serious weight on it—so you could wait another twenty-four before approaching Asserton.”

“Yeah, I’d rather wait. This is a lot to lift.” Misery on her face, Lilah pressed a hand to her belly. “He’s got the new baby. It could hold, maybe, until you get that serious weight.”

“Use your best judgment,” Eve told her. “When I’m sure we’ve got that weight, I’ll be notifying IAB.”

“Ah, shit.”

“They’re going to want to talk to you.”

Lilah closed her eyes, nodded. “I’ve wanted to be a cop since I was a kid. My brother . . .” She opened her eyes again. “I guess you’ve read my file, so you know.”

“Yeah.”

“I wanted this, and I worked for this. I wanted to do something—to maybe do something so somebody’s mother didn’t get her heart broken, somebody’s sister wouldn’t ask herself, again and again, if she could’ve done more, if she could’ve stopped it, saved him.”

Lilah’s eyes took on a fierceness that reminded Eve of Mrs. Ochi.

“Every time I pick up my badge, that’s why. Even if I don’t think about it, it’s why.”

“The why’s a big part of making us the kind of cops we end up being.”

“Maybe.” Lilah blew out a breath. “This isn’t what I signed on for, Lieutenant. Sitting on my ass in a dirty squad isn’t what I signed up for.”

“She’s exploiting somebody’s mother, somebody’s sister, somebody’s brother every time she takes—the junk, the money—every time she makes a deal. I can promise you, Detective, she thinks about what she’s going to cash in every fucking time she picks up her badge.”

“If I can help you take her down, and the rest of them with her, I will.”

“I’m asking you to be my eyes and ears inside. Watch, listen.” Eve took out a card. “If you need or want to contact me, use a disposable or a public ’link. No point taking chances. My personal number’s on there.”

“Lieutenant?” Lilah said as Eve opened the door. “I knew—some of it anyway. I knew in my gut, but I didn’t do anything.”

“Now you are,” Eve said simply, and closed the door.

Pleased with the progress, Eve took a zigzagging route home, watching for shadows. No one followed her, but as she approached the gate, she realized someone was waiting for her.

The car flashed across the road, directly in her path, and angled broadside to block the gates as she hit the brakes.

Fury came first, but she engaged her recorder as she watched Garnet slam out of the driver’s side.

No one with him, she noted, using her cams to be sure no other vehicles made any move to corner her. She’d be damned if she’d be trapped at the gates to her own home. Her own normal.

Garnet wanted another confrontation? she thought. It might prove interesting.

She slammed out of her own vehicle.

“You don’t come to my house, Garnet. Do yourself a favor. Move your vehicle and keep going.”

“Who the fuck do you think you are? You think you can come into my squad and push me around? You think you can set IAB on me?”

So Webster let him have a sniff, Eve thought. Fuel to the fire she’d built.

“I think I’m your superior.” She said it coolly, braced to defend against what she saw wasn’t just a ride on temper, but a little chemical help to amp the speed.

“You’re nothing. Anybody can marry money and use it for the climb. You’re just another whore with a badge.”

“I still outrank you, Garnet. And you’re about to double that thirty-day rip.”

“Nobody here but you and me, bitch.” He gave her a taunting little shove, both hands to her shoulders. “You’re going to find out rank doesn’t mean dick.”

“Touch me again, Garnet.” She knew she was baiting him now. She wanted to. “Put hands on me again, and you lose your badge for good. You’ve been using. You’ve confronted, threatened, and assaulted a superior officer—again. Get in your vehicle and drive away, or I take you all the way down.”

“Fuck you.” He backhanded her; she let him. She went with the blow, let it propel her around as he moved in, fists raised.

She slammed hers into his face. “No, please. Fuck you.”

The unexpected punch knocked him back a step, had blood trickling from the side of his mouth.

“Now, back off,” she warned, but he charged.

His fist glanced off her shoulder, but had enough behind it to sing down her arm. Still she knew in that moment she could take him one-on-one. He was bigger, had more of a reach, but he was consumed by his fury, and sloppy with it.

She blocked, hit him again with a hard, short-armed punch to the face. “Back the fuck off!”

From behind her she heard the roar of an engine and knew Roarke was barreling down the drive. Time to end this, she thought, before somebody got seriously hurt.

Even as she thought it, she saw the move. On instinct she kicked out, kicked hard so her boot connected with Garnet’s forearm. The weapon he’d drawn flew out of his hand, clattered against the iron gates.

“You’ve lost your mind.” There was a tinge of genuine wonder in her voice. “You’ve completely lost your fucking mind.”

As if to prove it, he started toward her. Then the gates swung open. Like her, he could hear the slam of a door, the rush of footsteps.

“I’ve got this,” Eve said to Roarke as he bent to pick up Garnet’s weapon. “I’ve got this.”

His eyes burned as cold as his voice. “Then you’d best get rid of it before I do.”

Garnet, mouth bloody, left eye already swelling, looked from one to the other. “This isn’t over.” He stormed back to his car, wrenched the door open. “I’ll bury you, bitch!” he shouted before he jumped in, sped away.

“You’re letting him go?”

“For tonight.” Eve rolled her shoulder where Garnet’s fist had hit. “I want to see what he does. He’s sure as hell off his leash. I’ll report this—and it’s on record, my wire, your surveillance. Things go right, they can pick him up tomorrow, charge him with assault, assault with a deadly. It’d be enough, I think, for him to bargain, for him to flip on Renee for a deal.”

“You could take him in now, same results.” Roarke handed her the weapon. “You don’t want a deal.”

“You’re damn right I don’t. I want all of them, all the way—and maybe I’ll have enough for that by tomorrow.” She flexed her fingers, shrugged at the scraped knuckles. “But punching him in the face a couple times didn’t suck.”

Roarke tipped her face up, dabbed gently at her lip with a fingertip. “Your lip’s bleeding.”

She disengaged her recorder. “I let him get one in. The fucker can have the rep of all reps, but that recording, showing him hitting me, drawing first blood, moving in to draw more? Rat in a trap, and no way out of it.”

“I wish you wouldn’t so often use your face as an investigative tool. I’m very fond of it.”

She grinned, then winced as it smarted. “You ought to be used to it. Anyway, thanks for riding to the rescue. You need a white hat. Good guys wear white, right?”

“I look better in black.”

“Let’s go on in. I have to report a rogue cop—and what I’m going to bet is his unregistered weapon.”

“It’s turning into quite a day,” Roarke commented.

It wasn’t over for anyone.

The last thing Renee Oberman needed after suffering through an endless meal that included a lecture from her father was to find Bill Garnet pacing outside her apartment.

One look at his face told her he’d looked for trouble and found it, and he’d brought it to her door.

“Go home, Bill, and put an ice pack on your face.”

He grabbed her arm as she shot her key card in the slot. She’d expected it, but it didn’t make her yank away any less testy.

“I’m not in the mood for this.”

“I don’t give a shit what you’re in the mood for.” He shoved the door open, pushed her inside.

She whirled around, outraged, shocked. “Don’t you ever put your hands on me again.”

“I’ll put more than my hands on you. I’m done, Renee, done doing this your way. Your way got me suspended.”

“You got yourself suspended. You’re out of control, and the way you’re behaving right now only proves it. I told you I’d deal with the rip.”

“Then fucking deal with it.” Under the bruising his face burned, red and livid.

Not just off the leash, Renee realized. He’d snapped it. She tried for a combination of understanding and weariness. “I’m doing everything I can. For Christ’s sake, I went to the bitch personally to plead your case. And I had to humble myself tonight and ask my father to intervene.”

“And will he?”

“He’ll talk to Whitney tomorrow.” But wouldn’t, she knew, interfere with command’s decision. Saint Oberman had made that crystal.

She turned away, crossing over to her kitchen. She pulled a bottle of whiskey from a cupboard, two short glasses from another—and poured two fingers in each.

Her father wouldn’t back her up, and she wondered why she continued to let herself think he would. Not perfect Commander Oberman, oh no. Not by-the-fucking-book Oberman.

But she put a cool look on her face as she turned with the glasses. No point in letting Garnet know the score while he was on a rampage.

“Have a drink and calm the hell down.”

“I’m not swallowing a suspension, and I’m not getting cut out of the Giraldi deal. I’ll fuck you up, Renee.”

“Understood. So ... who punched you?”

He tossed back whiskey. “Fucking bitch.”

She lowered her glass, had to set it down because the hand holding it shook with rage. “Are you telling me you got into it with Dallas? Are you telling me, goddamn it, Garnet, that you hunted her up and got physical? Again?”

“She earned it. IAB sniffing around me—I got word on it. That whore set them on me, and she’ll get more than what I gave her tonight before I’m done with her.”

IAB—it was a slap in her face, and a singular threat to her business.

Goddamn Garnet. Goddamn Dallas.

“In the fucking name of God! I’m surrounded by idiots. I put Freeman and Manford on a standard tail, and she goes out, and they lose her in five damn minutes. Then you go after her? How the hell did you ...” Fury wanted to choke her. “Freeman told you. You got Freeman to tell you she went out. What the hell did you do, Bill? Don’t tell me, fucking Christ, you went to her house?”

“The house everybody knows she whored herself into.” His knuckles went white on the glass as he gulped down the rest of the whiskey. “So what? Her word against mine, and Freeman will back me. He’ll swear I was with him tonight, and nowhere near that cunt.”

It was falling apart around her, she thought. Men. Goddamn men. She’d be damned if she’d let any of them screw her out of what was hers, what she’d worked for. What she’d built.

What she owned.

She turned away again, struggled for control. And picking up her glass again, her brain went ice cold.

“All right. We’ll deal with it. We’ll deal with her. She’s gotten in the way once too often.”

“About fucking time.”

“I need to set it up. Go hook up with Freeman, make sure you’re seen. Then go home, wait. I might be able to work something tonight to get her off our backs. All the way.”

“I want to do it. I want to do her.”

“Fine, but it’s going to take me awhile to work it. A couple hours, maybe three. Go hook up with Freeman, have a couple of drinks, make it public. Then go home, Bill, and wait.”

“If we don’t clean this up tonight, I’m taking care of it myself. My way.”

“It won’t be necessary.” She took his glass. “Get out.”

“You’re going to give me one too many orders, Renee, and regret it.”

But he got out.

She took the glass into the kitchen, deliberately and viciously smashed it in the sink. “Fucking asshole!”

Everything that had gone wrong in the last few days had started with him. Keener slipping his collar, with the 10K? Direct line to Garnet’s screwup. If not for that she wouldn’t have Dallas on her back, in her face, in her squad. Wouldn’t have had to swallow the commander’s refusal to push the bitch out. Wouldn’t have had to humiliate herself to her stiff-necked, unbending father.

He’d become a liability. Calmer, she poured herself another short whiskey. Liabilities needed to be corrected, and if correction proved impossible, eliminated.

Thinking, she circled the living area of the apartment she’d furnished with care, with some style, and within a strict budget.

She wasn’t a fool like so many who worked for her.

Her home in Sardinia, now, that was a different matter. There she could indulge herself in the lush. She could buy art, jewelry, clothes—everything and anything she wanted. And keep the highest of high-end droids on staff to maintain the house and grounds immaculately.

Nobody was taking that from her, much less an ex-lover who’d lost his edge, and all his appeal.

Time to fix it, once and for all.

She opened her purse, took out her disposable mini-’link, and contacted Bix on his.

“Are you alone?” she asked him.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. Bix, I’m afraid I have a serious problem, and you’re the only one who can handle it as it needs to be handled.”

He said nothing for a moment, just looked into her eyes. “What do you need me to do, Lieutenant?”