Connections in Death (In Death #48)(74)

“Maybe we’ll put you in holding together,” Peabody speculated. “After we let him and the rest of the gang know why you’re in here.”

“Terrible accidents do happen in holding sometimes,” Eve added, shifting to Peabody. “Outside, too. Say, if somebody happened to make bail and got released, and word got out he’d spilled his guts to the cops . . . Terrible accident.”

“You can’t do that!”

“Do what?” Eve shifted back. “We’re just talking here.”

“I’ve told you nothing. Those people are violent criminals.”

“You should’ve thought of that before you threw in with them. And don’t start back up with the bullshit. Your records, for Christ’s sake. Your records show your percentage of profits from illegal activity committed by Jones and his gang. So, yeah, we’re going to wrap Jones up, using your records. And unless he hires an idiot for an attorney, he’ll find out where we got our information. It’s call discovery. Remember?”

“A guy like Jones’ll probably break his spine for that alone,” Peabody put in. “Unless we work it so Jones can’t get to him. But we’ve got no incentive.”

“Once we pull Jones in using the evidence gathered from Sam’s records, it’s done.” Eve lifted her shoulders, let them fall. “Those terrible accidents? They increase exponentially in prison.”

Cohen’s eyes glittered, not from anger, but the beginning of tears. “This is my life you’re talking about.”

“Three people in the morgue, you fuck. Every one of them had a life. And that doesn’t begin to count the scores of lives screwed up or ended because of your partner’s criminal activities, from which you profited.”

“I—I need some water. I need some water. And I need to think.”

“Dallas and Peabody exiting to get the subject water and allow him thinking time. You’ve got ten minutes. Pause interview.”

“I’ll get the water,” Peabody said. “You want coffee?”

“Pepsi.” Eve dragged out tokens for Vending. “Don’t use my code or the machines will spit out anything but.”

“I thought he would spill it before now.”

“First we had to break through his delusions—and they’re pretty damn strong—that he could wiggle out. We finally got there.”

As Peabody walked to Vending, Eve saw Roarke come out of Observation.

“I didn’t know you were here.”

“Only just. It appears I missed much of the show, and another murder. And . . .” He skimmed a fingertip over the faint bruise on her jaw.

She’d forgotten about it. “Come on, that doesn’t even show.”

“I know that face, every inch. A fight with a suspect?”

“No, and not a fight. A takedown. A street thief got in a glancing—and lucky—hit.” Now that Roarke had reminded her, it pissed her off all over again. “The fun never ends.”

“And with all the fun, I’ll wager you’ve missed lunch.”

“Been a little busy, and Vending sucks anyway.”

With a shake of his head, he tapped a finger on the dent in her chin. “There’s food you’ll actually eat without complaint in your office AC.”

“Right. I always forget. I’ll get something after I break this son of a bitch. I figure you’re here mostly because you feel sorry for Vinn, so I’ll tell you: She stood up. She has a lawyer, she’s cooperating with the feds, and apparently has a stripper pal who has her back and doesn’t take any crap.”

“Glad to hear it. Peabody,” he said as she clomped back with the drinks. “You look both lovely and formidable.”

Her eyes got a little sparkly as she passed Eve the tube of Pepsi. “Thanks. It’s been a day so far.”

“Plenty more to come.” Eve cracked the tube. “Before the end of it we’ll be busting a Dragon captain for aggravated assault, with a sweetener of threatening bodily harm. And we’ll bust Jones for a whole—what do they call that—plethora—of charges. Plethora. It’s got a ring.”

She guzzled Pepsi. “And if we can finish breaking Cohen, somebody’s going down for murder in the first, three counts.”

“That’s a very busy rest of the day,” Roarke commented. “I hope to join some of it. I have about an hour now, then some things to see to. If I don’t see you before, let me know when you start out.”

So saying, he pulled a candy bar out of his pocket, broke it in half. “So the two of you keep your energy up.”

“Loose pants or chocolate? Chocolate!” Peabody took the candy.

Eve eyed it narrowly. “Did you get that from my office?”

“I didn’t, no. I brought it with me on the suspicion my cop—or cops in this case—hadn’t eaten since breakfast.”

“I had a mini oatmeal crunch power bar,” Peabody said. “This is better.”

Eve studied the wrapper, noted it didn’t have the mark she’d put on her office stash. But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t check her hidey-hole later.

But for now she ate the chocolate, drank the Pepsi. And decided the quick energy boost couldn’t hurt. She handed Roarke the empty tube. “See you later.”