J Robb - Imitation in Death

“I’m not entirely sure.” He stepped in before she could step out, then closed the door behind him.

“We’ve got to go. The ceremony starts in fifteen.”

“And it’s a five-minute walk. Turn around once.”

“I will not.” Another few seconds, she figured, and that damn flush would hit her cheeks. Mortifying her. “You’ve seen a cop in uniform before.”

“I’ve never seen my cop in uniform before. I didn’t know you had one.”

“Of course I’ve got one. We’ve all got one. I just never wear it. But this is… important, that’s all.”

“You look…” He traced one of her shiny brass buttons. “… amazing. Very sexy.”

“Oh, get out.”

“Seriously.” He leaned back to take it in. That long, lanky form did wonders, he thought, for the spit and polish, the crisp formal blues.

Medals, earned in the line of duty, glinted against the stiff jacket. She’d shined her black cop shoes-which he now imagined she’d kept buried in her locker-to mirror gleams. She wore her weapon at her hip, and her cap squared off on her short hair.

“Lieutenant,” he said with a purr in his voice. “You’ve got to wear that home.”

“Why?”

He grinned. “Guess.”

“You’re a sick, sick man.”

“We’ll play cops and robbers.”

“Out of my way, pervert.”

“One thing.” He had fast hands, and had dipped one down her starched collar before she could move. And pulled out, to his delight, the chain that carried the diamond he’d once given her. “That’s perfect, then,” he murmured, and tucked it away again.

“We’re not holding hands. I’m absolutely firm on that.”

“Actually, I was planning to walk a couple steps behind you, so I could see how your ass moves in that thing.”

She laughed, but pulled him out with her. “Update on Renquist if you’re interested.”

“I am.”

“He’s trying for insanity-not unexpected. But he’s giving it a good shot. Using multiple personality disorder. One minute he’s Jack the Ripper, next he’s Son of Sam or John Wayne Gacy. Trips from that to DeSalvo or back to Jack.”

“Do you think it’s genuine?”

“Not for a minute, and Mira doesn’t buy it. He could pull it off though. His defense will hire plenty of shrinks that go along, and he’s good at the game. It may keep him from a cement cage and put him in a padded cell, on the mentally defective floor.”

“How would you feel about that?”

“I want the cage, but you don’t always get what you want. I’m going by the hospital after shift so I can tell Marlene Cox and her family what may happen.”

“I think they’ll be fine with it. They’re not soldiers, Eve,” he said when she looked at him. “They only want him put away, and you’ve done that. It’s payment enough for them, if not for you.”

“It has to be enough for me because it’s over. And there’ll be another to take his place. Knowing that drags some cops under.”

“Not my cop.”

“No.” What the hell, she took his hand anyway as they walked into the meeting room for the ceremony. “It pushes me over. You just find a seat, wherever. I have to be up on the stupid stage.”

He lifted her hand to his lips. “Congratulations, Lieutenant, on a job well done.”

She glanced over, as he did, to where Peabody stood with McNab in the front of the room. “She did it herself,” was all Eve said.

It pleased her to see that Commander Whitney had made time to officiate. She stepped onto the stage with him, took the hand he offered.

“Congratulations, Lieutenant, on your aide’s promotion.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“We’re going to start right away. We have twenty-seven promotions this session out of Central. Sixteen detective third grades, eight second grades, and three detective sergeants.” He smiled a little. “I don’t believe I’ve seen you in uniform since you made lieutenant.”

“No, sir.”

She stepped back with the other trainers, stood next to Feeney.

“One of my boys made second grade,” he told her. “Thought we’d have a celebration drink across the street after shift. Suit you?”

“Yeah, but the civilian’s going to want in. He’s soft on Peabody.”

“Fair enough. Here we go. Jack’ll give his standard speech. Thank God it’s him and not that putz Leroy who stands in for him when he can’t make it. Leroy’s got the trots of the tongue. Can’t stop it running.”

In her assigned seat, Peabody sat with her spine straight and her stomach doing cartwheels. She was terrified she’d burst into tears, as she had when she’d called home to tell her parents. It would be mortifying to cry now, but everything was so welled up, flooding her throat, that she was afraid when she opened her mouth to speak, it would all pour out.

Her ears were buzzing, so now she was afraid she wouldn’t hear her name called and would just sit there like an idiot. She concentrated on Eve, and how she stood cool and perfect at parade rest in her uniform.

When she’d seen her lieutenant walk in, in uniform, she’d nearly bawled then and there. She hadn’t been able to speak to her.

But buzzing or not, she heard her name in the commander’s big voice. Detective Third Grade Delia Peabody. And got to her feet. She couldn’t feel her knees, but somehow she was walking to the stage, up the side steps, and across it.

“Congratulations, Detective,” he said, and took her hand in his enormous one before he stepped back.

And there was Dallas, stepping forward. “Congratulations, Detective. Well done.” She held out the shield, and for a moment, just a flicker, there was a smile.

“Thank you, Lieutenant.”

Then Eve stepped back, and it was done.

All Peabody could think when she resumed her seat was that she hadn’t cried. She hadn’t cried and there was a detective’s shield in her hand.

She was still moving through a daze when the ceremony was done, and McNab rushed forward to lift her off her feet. And Roarke leaned over and-oh my God!-kissed her right on the mouth.

But she couldn’t find Eve. Through the congratulations and pats, on the back, the ribbing and the noise, she didn’t see Eve anywhere. Finally, still clutching her badge, she broke away.

When she trackedEve down in her office, her lieutenant was back in street clothes, at her desk, hunched over paperwork.

“Sir. You got out of there so fast.”

“I had things to do.”

“You were wearing your uniform.”

“Why does everybody say that like it’s cause for a national holiday? Listen, congratulations. I mean it. I’m proud of you, and glad for you. But fun time’s over, and I’ve got a shit-pile of paperwork.”

“Well, I’m going to take time to thank you, and that’s that. I wouldn’t have this if it wasn’t for you.” She kept the shield cupped in her hand as if it were the finest crystal. “Because you believed in me, you pushed me, and you taught me, I’ve got it.”

“That’s not entirely untrue.”Eve tipped the chair back, put the heel of one boot on the desk. “But if you hadn’t believed in yourself, pushed yourself, and learned, I wouldn’t have done you a damn bit of good. So you’re welcome, for what part I played in it. You’re a good cop,Peabody, and you’ll be a better one as time goes by. Now, the paperwork.”

Peabody’s vision was blurry, but she blinked back the tears. “I’ll get right on it, sir.”

“That’s not your job.”

“As your aide-”

“You’re no longer my aide. You’re a detective, and part of this paperwork I’m slogging through is your new assignment.”

The tears dried up, and the flush the excitement and joy had put in her cheeks drained away. “I don’t understand.”