Connections in Death (In Death #48)(63)

She could do that, and did.

“All right then, last as he’s your superior, you tell it to wait for the uplink from Whitney, then proceed. If you were including others, you’d simply list the names and locations, and when you wanted to bring them in.”

“Got it. Hold for uplink from Whitney, Commander Jack, then proceed with holo communication.”

“Well done.” He cupped her face in his hand, kissed her. “If you’d think of electronics as tools instead of the enemy, you’d have an easier time.”

“They are tools, and the enemy.”

“Well then, I’m in my office if you need help in the battle. When you’re done, just tell it to disengage holo option.”

“Good. Thanks.”

Alone, she walked to her board, gave it a long study, then moved back into place when the comp announced.

Uplink from Whitney, Commander Jack, in progress.

His image formed, real as life. His suit, slate-gray, fit well over strong, wide shoulders. The gray threaded through his dark, close-cropped hair read steely.

“Commander, I appreciate you meeting with me so quickly.”

“I’m interested, Lieutenant, to learn how a disgraced lawyer facing charges of tax evasion and fraud connect to two gang murders.”

“That’s what I intend to find out, and why I need to interview Cohen before the feds take over. I believe Cohen and Jones have more than a business relationship, as outlined in my report. And, in fact, suspect Cohen may be acting as Jones’s de facto legal counsel. As such, he may have information on the murders.”

Though she’d sent him a written copy of her report, she laid out her theory.

“There’s no question the murders connect, sir. If Cohen has any knowledge, using the current charges as weight will help break him. In addition, what he knows about the Banger organization will aid concurrent investigations into their illegals trade, suspected identity theft, their protection racket and other criminal activities.”

“They’re a blight,” Whitney said. “A relatively small one compared to what they were even a decade ago, but a blight. I’ll contact the FBI, relay this information. When I arrive at Central.” He glanced deliberately at his wrist unit. “You’ve got a ninety minute head start before that time, and likely an hour more before they move on Cohen. Make the most of it.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Any and all data relating to the tax evasion will be relayed to the federal authorities, Lieutenant.”

“Absolutely, sir. If possible, Commander, Special Agent Teasdale might be a good FBI contact.”

“She would.” Whitney gave Eve the slightest of nods. “Get moving,” he said and faded away.

“Okay then.” She started to turn away, remembered. “What was it again? Fuck. Wait. Ah, disengage holo option. And close operations.”

Holo option disengaging.

The center shut down. “Not so hard,” she mumbled, and swung into Roarke’s office.

“Hold a moment, Peterby.” His screen went to quiet blue when he swiveled to her. “Done?”

“Yeah, gotta move. Thanks for the assist.”

“Not a problem.” But he crooked a finger so she rolled her eyes, then leaned over his command center to meet his lips with hers.

“I’ll tag you when I’m ready to sweat him.”

“And I’ll try to juggle things so I can watch and be entertained. If I can’t, take care of my cop, and kick his sorry, cool hoor ass.”

“Affirmative on both.”

Leaving early gave her a head start on morning traffic, and whatever gods decided the vehicular luck of the day, smiled down so she hit nearly every green. As a result, she hit the Lower East Side well ahead of the time she’d texted to Peabody.

Since she saw no point in waiting, she edged into a slot, and hiked a couple of blocks to the four-stack in the cool March breeze.

Privacy screens engaged, she noted. Most likely Vinn was still sleeping. It never hurt, to Eve’s mind, to catch somebody before they’d had their morning caffeine and started thinking clearly.

She buzzed, waited, watched a teenage type walk a trio of yap dogs who trotted along on stubby legs with ears flapping. Buzzed again, longer.

The door opened a crack, and an eye peered out. Not Vinn’s brown one, but green and bloodshot.

“Do you know what the freak time it is?” The voice, rusty with sleep, matched the annoyance in the bloodshot eye.

“Yes.” Eve held up her badge. “Lieutenant Dallas, NYPSD. I have a warrant to enter and search.” Now she held up the copy she’d printed out.

“Man, hasn’t that fuckhead caused El enough trouble and heartache? Whatcha want to mess with her for?”

The door opened a few inches wider so Eve studied the woman with sleep-tangled blue hair, wearing a wrinkled tee that skimmed just south of her crotch that identified her as an: OFF-DUTY STRIPPER

“I’m here to mess with the source of her trouble and heartache.”

“Didn’t ya get the cop memo, sister? Asshole’s in jail.”

“I know. I put him there.”

The woman fisted a hand on her hip which shifted the shirt a dangerous fraction north. “I’m liking you better.” She opened the door fully, stepped back to let Eve in. “El tagged me up last night for some emotional support, and that included a couple bottles of wine. She’s still out. What’re ya searching for?”