J. Robb - Judgment in Death

She slid back into her car, rolled her shoulders.

Temper, temper, Ricker, she thought, and rubbed absently at the ache where his fingers had dug. Never give orders when in emotional distress.

Round one goes to me.

Ian McNab tried to look casual as he wandered into the detectives' bullpen. It wasn't easy for a man sporting a waist-long braid and wearing orange flight pants to look casual, but he worked at it.

He had an excuse for being in that area. A few of the detectives had tossed run requests on the witnesses listed in the Kohli case over to EDD. That was McNab's story, and he was sticking to it.

He also had a reason for being in that area. And the reason was tucked into a skinny cubicle in the far corner, studiously doing tech work.

She looked so cute when she was studious. He was gone on her, all right. He wasn't particularly happy about it, as his plan had always been to scoop as many women into his life as humanly possible. He just plain loved women.

But then Peabody had marched into his life in her ugly cop shoes and spit-spot uniform, and that, as the historians say, was that.

She wasn't completely cooperating. Oh, he'd finally gotten her into bed-on the kitchen floor, in an elevator car, in an empty locker room-and anywhere else his fluid imagination could devise. But she wasn't moony over him.

He was forced to admit, though it grated daily, that he was well over that moon as regarded Officer Delia Peabody.

He squeezed into her cubicle, settled his skinny butt on the corner of her desk. "Hey, She-Body. What's up?"

"What are you doing out of EDD?" She kept right on working, didn't even glance up. "You break your chain again?"

"They don't lock us up in EDD like they do over here. How do you work in this cage?"

"Efficiently. Go away, McNab. I'm really swamped here."

"The Kohli deal? It's all anybody can talk about. Poor son of a bitch."

Because there was pity in his voice, she did glance up. And noted that his eyes, cool and green, weren't just sad. They were pissed. "Yeah. Well, we'll get the slime who killed him. Dallas is working the angles."

"Nobody does it better. Some of the guys here asked us to run some names. Everybody in EDD from Feeney down to the lowest drone's on it."

She worked up a sneer. "Why aren't you?"

"I was elected to swing over and see if I could wangle an update. Come on, Peabody, we're in it, too. Give me something to take back."

"I don't have that much. Keep this part to yourself," she said, lowering her voice and peeking through the narrow opening of her work space. "I don't know what Dallas is up to. She went out in the field and didn't take me with her. Didn't tell me where she was going, either. Then a few minutes ago, I get a call from her. She's got uniforms bringing in four mopes, booking them on various charges, including carrying concealeds, and she wants me to run the names quick, fast, and now. She's on her way in."

"What'd you find?"

"All four of them have been guests of various government facilities, mostly violent crimes. Assaults, assaults with deadlies. Spine-crackers and persuaders, from the sheets. But get this."

She lowered her voice even more, so that McNab had to lean in, catch a teasing whiff of her shampoo. "They're connected to Max Ricker."

McNab opened his mouth, then sucked in the exclamation when Peabody hissed at him. "You think Ricker's behind the Kohli deal?"

"I don't know, but I know Kohli was part of the team that busted him last fall, because Dallas had me get the case file and the trial transcript. I took a quick look, and Kohli was low level, didn't testify, either. Of course, the case was tossed out of court within three days. But Dallas has some reason for hauling in four of his goon squad."

"This is good stuff."

"You can pass on the mopes she's bringing in, but keep quiet about the Ricker connection until we've got more."

"I could do that, but I want some incentive. How about you come by tonight?"

"I don't know what Dallas has planned." He was grinning at her. For reasons Peabody couldn't figure, she was finding it harder and harder to resist that dopey grin. "But I could probably swing by."

"Speaking of swinging, when you get there, we could…" He started to lean closer, make a suggestion he thought would keep her revved through shift. Then he shot off the desk like a pebble from a sling. "Jesus, it's the commander."

"Chill down." But Peabody came to attention herself.

It wasn't unprecedented for Whitney to make an appearance in the squad room. But he didn't make a habit of it, either.

"Oh man, he's coming over here."

She saw it and had to resist the impulse to tug at her uniform jacket to make certain it was straight.

"Detective." Whitney stopped, filled the entrance to the cubicle, and pinned McNab with dark, steely eyes. "Have you transferred out of the Electronic Detective Division?"

"No, sir, Commander. EDD is working in conjunction with Homicide on the matter of Detective Taj Kohli. We're confident that this interdepartmental cooperation and effort will result in closing the case quickly."

He was good, Peabody thought with annoyed admiration. Slick as cat spit.

"Then perhaps you should get back to your division and continue that cooperation, Detective, instead of disrupting this officer's work."

But not, she thought, quite slick enough.

McNab nearly saluted but managed to restrain himself. Then vanished like smoke.

"Officer, do you have the data your lieutenant requested on the four individuals currently in booking?"

In booking? Already? Jeez. "Yes, sir."

"Hard copy," he said and held out a hand.

Peabody ordered the printout. "As ordered, Commander, I've sent copies of the data to Lieutenant Dallas's vehicle and office units."

He merely grunted, then turned away already reading the data. He paused, glanced over as Eve walked in. "Lieutenant, your office."

Peabody winced at the tone. It was hard as granite. And courageously, she stepped out of her cubicle. She couldn't say she was disappointed when Eve signaled her back, then swung toward her office.

There was a fire being lighted, Peabody thought, but wasn't sure who was going to get burned.

"Sir." Eve held the door open, waited for Whitney to pass through, then closed it behind them.

"Explain, Lieutenant, why you left the state, and your jurisdiction, interrogated Max Ricker without discussing your intentions or going through the chain of command?"

"Commander, as primary, I am not required to clear investigative interviews through any chain of command. And I am authorized to leave my jurisdiction to do so if the interview is pertinent to the case."

"And to harass a civilian in another state?"

She felt the first sting of temper, ignored it. "Harass, sir?"

"I received a call from Ricker's attorney, who has also contacted the Chief of Police, and who is threatening to sue you, this department, and the city of New York for harassing his client and for assaulting and detaining four of Ricker's employees."

"Really? He's running scared all right," she murmured. "I didn't think I'd gotten to him that deep. Commander," she said, bringing herself back. "I contacted Ricker, requested an interview at his convenience, and was granted same."

She pulled a sealed disc from a drawer. "The request, made from this unit, and the agreement to said request, were recorded, as was my interview with Ricker, in his home where he was properly Mirandized in the presence of six of his attorneys by holograph."

This time, she took a disc from her bag. "Recorded, Commander, with his full knowledge. With respect, sir, he's pissing in the wind on this."

"Good. I thought as much." He took both discs. "However, angling for Ricker on a cop killing is a dangerous and delicate matter. You'd better have a foundation you can stand on."