Connections in Death (In Death #48)(68)

She kicked back, shot up her eyebrows at Peabody. “An arrangement?”

“It’s a lot of money,” Peabody speculated.

“I’m certainly willing to compensate you for keeping this matter—one that falls into a gray area—contained.”

“‘Compensate’?” Peabody pursed her lips.

“We’ll say five percent.”

“Five percent of the monies held in all those accounts,” Peabody qualified, “if we don’t notify the FBI, and look the other way on the fraud?”

Smiling a little, Cohen spread his hands as far as his restraints allowed. “We all benefit.”

“Just business,” Eve said. “Except . . . That sounds like a bribe, doesn’t it, Peabody?”

“It’s got that ring to it. Just like the one he tried on the booking officer.”

“That was a misunderstanding! You’re misunderstanding me.”

“No, you were really clear. For the record, that’s a second count of attempting to bribe police officers. And we haven’t even gotten to the fact that Jones, you, and the Bangers operate as organized crime, which brings in RICO. Your really good records list the percentages you took from their illegals dealing, from their unlicensed sex workers, their underground club, their protection racket, from their identity theft operation.”

“I had nothing to do with any of that. Those are simply consultant fees for legal advice. I was not involved in any illegal activity.”

“You profited from it, you were aware of it and failed to report these activities to the authorities.”

“I—I was engaged as legal consultant, and therefore bound by confidentiality.”

“Bullshit! Bullshit!” Peabody exploded, surging up to push her face into Cohen’s. “You were disbarred in the first fucking place.”

“That was a misunderstand, and I intend to correct it. As a matter of integrity—”

Peabody made a grab for him—a feint—but even as Eve swallowed a laugh, she knew her role. She jumped up, held her partner back. “Easy now.”

“This piece of shit’s talking integrity? He takes a percentage of money from selling illegals to addicts, to kids! From people just trying to run a business and afraid they’ll get burned out or put in the hospital. And we haven’t even gotten to two dead bodies.”

She bared her teeth at Cohen. “What was your fee for that, you shit-bag fuck? What’s your percentage of two bodies in the morgue?”

“I had nothing to do with—I don’t even know those people. You’ve lost your minds! You—you threatened me. I have nothing more to say. I’m going to engage legal counsel.”

“With what?” Eve tossed back. “Your accounts are frozen.”

“You can’t do that!”

“Done. But since you’re entitled to legal counsel, we’ll arrange for a public defender.”

“I don’t accept that. I do not accept that. I invoke my right to counsel. I still have contacts. You’re required to allow me to engage my own counsel.”

“Sure, and good luck with that. Make sure you let whoever you try to rope in know they’ll be defending you on accessory to murder charges—two counts—and various other state and federal crimes. Interview suspended while subject attempts to engage legal counsel.”

She stepped out, signaled to a uniform, ordered him to take Cohen back to holding and allow him to contact legal counsel.

“Did I go too far?” Peabody asked her. “I felt like I had it going, but then he calls for lawyer.”

“No, you were good. He was going to try to lawyer up sooner or later. He figured he could bullshit his way out of it, but kept digging himself a bigger hole.”

She watched Detective Strong and Reo come out of Observation. Strong grinned, shot out a finger at Peabody. “Badass.”

“Thanks.”

“He may be able to tag up a lawyer as slimy as he is,” Eve commented. “It isn’t going to help. We’re going to have the FBI horning in before we get him back in there, most likely. I need you to hold them off,” she said to Reo.

“Already on that page. You gave me some nice ammo in there for that. We’re handing them a platter loaded with goodies. I can wrangle you time to work some names out of him on the murders. He breaks, they get even more.”

“He’ll break.”

Hell, Eve thought, she could already see the cracks forming.

“It’s taking time because, Jesus, he’s delusional. He believes his own bullshit. Just business, not involved, consulting fees. I figure we string that out some then wrap him up in his own bullshit. Who consulted with him about taking out Pickering and Duff?”

She looked back at Reo. “When it gets through the delusional bullshit that he’s wrapped, he’s going to want a deal.”

“He needs to go down for whatever part he played with Lyle,” Strong insisted. “With Duff, too.”

“Didn’t say otherwise. How much will the feds deal?” she asked Reo. “If he rats out the gang—if they can get key players on racketeering.”

“Dallas—”

“I’ve got an idea how to play this,” she interrupted Strong. “I need some room for it. The asshole’s tried two bribes already—one on the fucking record. It’s how he thinks. Compensation. I want to offer him some compensation. Damn it.”