Ceremony in Death (In Death #5)(8)

Whitney watched her stride out, then closed his eyes. She would do what needed to be done, he knew. He only hoped it wasn’t more than she could live with.

Her temper was bubbling by the time she got back to her own office. Peabody sat in front of the monitor, smirking.

“Just about got it knocked. Your unit’s a real whiner, Dallas, but I’ve been slapping it into shape.”

“Disengage,” Eve snapped and grabbed up her jacket and bag. “Get your gear, Peabody.”

“We’ve got a case?” Revving up, Peabody jumped out of the chair and hustled after Eve. “What kind of case? Where are we going?” She broke into a trot to keep up. “Dallas? Lieutenant?”

Eve slapped the control on the elevator, and the single furious look she shot at Peabody was enough to stifle any further questions. Eve stepped into the elevator, shuffled into position with several noisy cops, and stood in stony silence.

“Hey, Dallas, how’s the newly wed? Why don’t you get your rich husband to buy the Eatery and stock some real food.”

She flicked a steely glare over her shoulder, stared into a face of a grinning cop. “Bite me, Carter.”

“Hey, I gave that a shot three years ago, and you nearly broke all my teeth. Holding out for a civilian,” he said when laughter erupted.

“Holding out for somebody who isn’t the major ass**le of Robbery,” someone else put in.

“Better than being the minor one, Forenski. Hey, Peabody,” Carter continued. “Want me to bite you?”

“Is your dental plan up to date?”

“I’ll check on that and get back to you.” With a wink, Carter and several others piled out.

“Carter puts the moves on anything female,” Peabody said conversationally, worried that Eve continued to stare straight ahead. “Too bad he’s an ass**le.” No response. “Ah, Forenski’s kind of cute,” Peabody continued. “He doesn’t have a steady personal partner, does he?”

“I don’t poke into the private lives of fellow officers,” Eve snapped back, and strode out onto the garage level.

“You don’t mind poking into mine,” Peabody said under her breath. She waited while Eve uncoded her car locks, then climbed into the passenger seat. “Am I to log in destination, sir, or is it a surprise?” Then she blinked when Eve simply laid her head against the wheel. “Hey, are you all right? What’s going on, Dallas?”

“Log in home office.” Eve drew a breath, straightened. “I’ll fill you in on the way. All information you’re given and all records on the ensuing investigation are to be coded and sealed.” Eve maneuvered out of the garage and onto the street. “All said information and records are confidential. You are to report only to me or the commander.”

“Yes, sir.” Peabody swallowed the obstruction that had lodged in her throat. “It’s internal, isn’t it? It’s one of us.”

“Yeah. Goddamn it. It’s one of us.”

Her home unit didn’t have the eccentricities of her official computer. Roarke had seen to that. The data scrolled smoothly on-screen.

“Detective Marion Burns. She’s been undercover at The Athame for eight months, working as a bartender.” Eve pursed her lips. “Burns. I don’t know her.”

“I do, slightly.” Peabody scooted her chair a bit closer to Eve’s. “I met her when I was… you know, during the Casto thing. She struck me as a solid, eyes-on-the-job sort. If memory serves, she’s third generation cop. Her mother’s still on the job. Captain, I think, in Bunko. Her grandfather went out line of duty during the Urban Wars. I don’t know why she’d have fingered DS Wojinski.”

“Maybe she reported what she saw, or maybe it’s something else. We’ll have to find out. Her report to Whitney’s pretty cut and dried. At one hundred thirty hours, September 22, 2058, she observed DS Wojinski seated at a private booth with known chemical dealer Selina Cross. Wojinski exchanged credits for a small package, which appeared to contain an illegal substance. The conversation and exchange lasted fifteen minutes, at which time Cross moved to another booth. Wojinski remained in the club another ten minutes, then left. Detective Burns tailed the subject for two blocks at which time he engaged a public transport.”

“So she never saw him use.”

“No. And she never saw him return to the club that night or on any subsequent night during her watch. Burns goes top of our list for questioning.”

“Yes, sir. Dallas, since Wojinski and Feeney were tight, wouldn’t it follow that Wojinski would have confided in him? Or failing that, that Feeney would have noticed… something.”

“I don’t know.” Eve rubbed her eyes. “The Athame. What the hell’s an athame?”

“I don’t know.” Peabody pulled out her palm PC and requested the data. “Athame, ceremonial knife, a ritual tool normally fashioned of steel. Traditionally the athame is not used for cutting, but for casting or banishing circles in earth religions.”

Peabody glanced up at Eve. “Witchcraft,” she continued. “That’s quite a coincidence.”

“I don’t think so.” She took the note from Alice out of her desk drawer, passed it to Peabody. “Frank’s granddaughter slipped this to me at the viewing. Turns out she works at some shop called Spirit Quest. Do you know it?”