J. Robb - Treachery in Death

“She’s not a stranger to me.” Peabody looked in Mrs. Devin’s eyes and repeated, “I want to do right by Gail. If she were standing in front of my mother, I know she’d do the same for me.”

On her way back to Manhattan, Peabody had to pull over, rest her head on the wheel.

“Please, God,” she murmured. “Let me find something. Don’t let me have done this to that poor woman for nothing.”

EVE HAD A SHORT WINDOW TO CHECK IN WITH her own men, so she hit the bullpen between meetings. After a quick scan, she gestured to Trueheart.

“My office.”

She went in, grabbed coffee, downed half of it.

“Where’s Baxter?” she asked when Trueheart stepped in.

“He’s working a wit in the lounge, Lieutenant. I’m verifying some information via ’link. We’re—”

“Is there a reason I need to know what you’re working on?” she interrupted. “Any humps, bumps, problems, questions?”

“No, sir. Not at this time.”

“Good. Is there anything anybody’s got going that requires me? You pay attention, Trueheart,” she said when he hesitated. “You know what’s moving out there. I don’t have time for a rundown unless I need a rundown.”

“Um, no, sir. I don’t think your attention’s required on anything current.”

“Get the word out. If I’m needed leave a memo. If it’s urgent, contact via ’link.”

“Yes, sir.”

She eased down on the corner of her desk, a deliberate move to take some of the formal out of the exchange. “What’s the buzz out there, Trueheart?”

He looked at her, spiffy in his uniform. “Sir?”

“Jesus, Trueheart. I know damn well Baxter’s clipped some of the green off of you, and as I said previous, you pay attention. You know what the talk is. Let’s hear it.”

“Well, um. Everybody knows something’s going on, and it’s more than the dead junkie. Word’s out one of Lieutenant Oberman’s men went down, at the same scene.”

“And being cops they’re speculating,” Eve added. “And laying money on various scenarios.”

He flushed a little. “It’s very possible, Lieutenant.”

“Get the word out I consider speculation the natural order of things, and would be shocked, Officer, shocked and appalled to discover gambling was going on in my bullpen.”

He gave her a sober nod, spoiled a little by his struggle to control a grin. “Yes, sir, Lieutenant.”

“I can be contacted, but only on urgent matters, for the next two hours. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Dismissed.”

Alone, she stood a moment, finishing her coffee and studying her board. When her ’link signaled, she saw Peabody on the display.

“Dallas.”

“I think I might have something,” Peabody began.

Eve switched her to privacy mode and took the communication on the way to Whitney’s office.

Whitney opened the door personally. There were new lines dug into his face, she noted, more gray threaded through his hair than there had been even a few days before.

Command, she thought, could be a harsh master.

“Lieutenant.”

“Sir.”

He gestured her into his office with its wide windows to the city he was sworn to protect.

Commander Marcus Oberman stood in front of one of them—tall, sturdy in his serious gray suit and steel blue tie. He’d let his hair go white, kept it shorn short, military style. Command had left its mark on him as well, but he remained a handsome man, striking and fit at eighty-six.

“Commander Oberman,” Whitney said, “Lieutenant Dallas.”

“Lieutenant.” Oberman extended his hand. “I appreciate you taking the time to come in to meet with me. I understand the value of your time.”

“It’s an honor, Commander.”

“And for me. You have an impressive reputation. Your commander speaks highly of you.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Can we sit?” Oberman asked, deferring to Whitney.

“Please.” Whitney gestured to chairs.

Oberman took one. “You were barely out of the Academy when I retired from this office,” Oberman began, “but I’ve followed some of your investigations in the media, and heard the buzz at the trough where we old warhorses gather.”

He smiled when he said it, the bright blue eyes he’d passed to his daughter friendly on hers. But Eve felt herself being summed up.

She had no quibble with that, as she did the same with him.

“Of course, now with the success of Nadine Furst’s book, your work on the Icove case is well documented. It’s been good for the department, wouldn’t you agree, Jack, the interest in that case? How it was pursued, investigated, and closed?”

“I would.”

“From what I’m told and, observed, Lieutenant, you’ve butted heads with fellow officers during the course of investigations.”

“I’m sure that’s accurate, Commander.”

His smile widened. “If you’re not butting heads now and then, you’re not doing the job—in my opinion.”

He leaned back in the chair. Taking the formal out, Eve judged, as she had with Trueheart.

“It takes confidence, even bullheadedness, as well as training, talent, dedication to stick with the job, and to move up the ranks. I understand you and my daughter are butting heads at the moment.”

“I regret if Lieutenant Oberman sees it that way.”

He nodded, his gaze pinned on hers. Still cop’s eyes, Eve thought. Shrewd, probing, the sort that could peel away the layers and expose what was hiding beneath.

“Your commander will attest to the fact I don’t make a habit of interfering with departmental business. I no longer have the chair, and hold nothing but respect for the man who does.”

“Yes, sir, as do I.”

“But a father is a father, Lieutenant, and from that job no man retires. I expect you and Lieutenant Oberman would have some certain friction between you as you are different types, have different work styles. But you’re both still ranked officers of the NYPSD.”

“Absolutely understood, Commander.”

“I hadn’t intended to become involved in this situation, in any way.” He lifted his hands, spread them. “Even when I had the chair, I believed my officers should settle their own differences.”

Daddy refusing to grease the wheels? Eve thought. That had to chap Renee’s ass. “Yes, sir. I agree.”

“I reconsidered this only after learning early this morning that one of my daughter’s men had gone down. The officer who was at the center of the friction.”

“It’s very regrettable Detective Garnet lost his life, sir.”

“Every man lost can and does affect us all, but most particularly his commanding officers. You’ve lost men under your command, Lieutenant.”

“Yes, sir.” She could list their names. She knew their faces.

“It’s my hope, Lieutenant, that given these new and tragic circumstances, you will agree to expunge the mark you placed on the fallen officer’s record. Deservedly placed,” he added. “But I would reach out to you now on this, for Lieutenant Oberman and her man.”

“No, sir. I regret I’m unable to accommodate you on this matter.”

He sat back, obviously taken by surprise. “It’s so important to you, Lieutenant, that this rip stands? On a dead man?”

“Dead or alive, he earned it. I apologize to the father, sir, but hope the commander who held this chair, and who served this department honorably for more years than I’ve been alive, will accept my stand when I say Detective Garnet’s lieutenant, present throughout that incident, did not intervene. Did not control the situation.”

“Are you directing the rip at Garnet or his lieutenant?”

“I’m not in the position to discipline his lieutenant. Respectfully, sir, I will not expunge his suspension. And in fact have already begun procedures that will result, I believe, in his expulsion from the force. Posthumously.”