Leverage in Death: An Eve Dallas Novel (In Death #47)(90)

“Uh-uh, partners. Ass to work off. I can’t stop!” she added with just a little hint of panic as Eve pulled out. “Part of my brain’s going, Oops, crap, why! But the rest of it’s all happy and everything’s so bright! See look! That woman’s walking a puppy. She has red boots! I like red boots. Aw, I wish we could get a puppy! I’d name her Cuddles, and—Ow!”

Shoulders hunched, Peabody rubbed the arm Eve punched. “I can’t help it.”

“Try harder.”

“See, what happened is we worked really, really late because murders and going to the Oscars. Oh, I want Nadine to win so bad! I can’t wait to see—Ouch!”

“Keep it up and you’ll need body paint to cover the bruises.”

“I’m just saying it’s like we only got two hours down, and then I couldn’t turn my brain off because murders and the Academy freaking Awards! Okay, ouch. But I’m saying everything was just fuzzy this morning, and I needed to give you one hundred percent. A hundred absolute percent. So booster. But then it didn’t feel like it worked. All fuzzy. So I thought about the espresso, and maybe it did work some because it’s crazy stupid to chase the boost with espresso. It’s the real. McNab and I splurged. I love McNab! Ian McNab is my BFF—boyfriend forever! And we—Ow, ow, ow.”

“Stop talking. Stop. I get what happened. I get why it happened, which is why I’m not searching for a blunt instrument to beat you bloody with before I dump your broken body out on the street to be run over by a maxibus.”

“Maybe I should take some Sober Up. It’s not like being drunk, but maybe—”

“No. Nothing else goes in. Except water.” Eve programmed just that from the in-dash. “Drink.”

“I already sort of have to pee.”

“Good, the sooner you flush it out, the better.”

“Where are we going? Can I pee where we’re going?”

“Yes. Drink. Mikhail Kinski, resident of Banks’s building. Age forty-six, former Army, rank captain. Divorced. One hit on domestic violence. Works security for Dobb-Pinkerton Financial.”

Peabody nodded, tapped her temple. “Got it.”

“Good, because we’re there.”

“Really good! Because now I sort of more than sort of have to pee.”

Eve found a second-level street slot. “You put on your cop face, and you zip it. You observe on this one, and that’s it. Unless somebody jabs a spike up your ass, I don’t want to hear anything coming out of your mouth with an exclamation point at the end.”

“That would really hurt.”

“And I can find a spike. Believe it.”

She hoped the short walk, the fresh air and the flushing would bring her partner back.

The lobby looked rich with its towering green marble columns and acres of gold leaf. While Peabody goggled like a damn tourist, Eve ignored the ornate decor, the scores of people—most in black—clipping and striding to and from elevators with their ear-links and micro PPCs.

“There.” Eve pointed toward a sign for restrooms. “Make it fast.”

“Yay.”

As Peabody bounded off to pee, Eve headed straight to the security podium. Held up her badge.

“Where would I find Mikhail Kinski?”

The woman, black-clad, muscular, aimed a suspicious eye at the badge before pulling out a scanner. She seemed a little disappointed when it read green.

“Mr. Kinski is in Security Hub A. You’ll need to be escorted to that level.”

“All right.” Eve stepped back, keeping one eye on the restroom and hoping she didn’t have to go in there and yank Peabody away from primping in the mirror while she sang a happy tune.

Fortunately for her partner’s life expectancy, Peabody came trotting out. She had a big grin plastered on her face, but maybe, just maybe, her eyes were a little less manic.

“The bathroom is swank.”

“Great. Lose the smile.”

Peabody shifted to an exaggerated glower. It might’ve been effective, Eve thought, without the pink lip dye. Still, better than the smile.

Eve watched the man stride off a single, secured elevator. She recognized Kinski from his ID shot. A well-built man with close-cropped silver-blond hair, icy blue eyes, and the edgy cheekbones of a Nordic god, he walked with that purposeful stride straight to Eve.

“Badges, please.”

Eve offered hers, elbowed Peabody until she remembered hers. He drew out a mini scanner, verified.

“What can I do for you, Lieutenant, Detective?”

“We can talk about that here in the lobby of your workplace, or we can go somewhere more private.”

“Give me a broad stroke.”

“The murder of Jordan Banks.”

He nodded, one decisive movement, then turned to lead them to the secured elevator.

“We can speak in my office. This will have to be brief. We have a full system test in twenty minutes.”

He used a card swipe and a thumbprint to engage the elevator. The ride down was short and smooth.

They emerged into a short hallway with double doors, fully secured and monitored by cams, at the end. Kinski turned to the left, used the swipe and his print again to open a door into a small, spartan office dominated by double wall screens.

He walked to sit behind a simple desk, gestured at the two metal chairs. “Have a seat. This should be brief as I didn’t know Jordan Banks.”