Judgment in Death (In Death #11)(11)

His smile had always been a handy weapon, and he used it now, keeping his light blue eyes friendly. His face was thin, sharp-angled, and would probably be termed scholarly as he aged. His dark brown hair waved a little and was cut to flatter.

"You've come up in the world, Dallas. This is some neighborhood."

"Yeah, we have monthly block parties and get crazy. What do you want, Webster?"

"How's it going?" He said it casually and started strolling toward the lush green and the trees still tender with spring.

Sucking in temper, she jammed her hands in her pockets and matched her steps with his. "It's going fine. How about you?"

"Can't complain. Nice evening. You gotta love spring in New York."

"And how about those Yankees? Now, that should conclude our period of small talk. What do you want?"

"You never were much on chat." He remembered very well the one and only time he'd managed to get her into bed; they hadn't done any talking. "Why don't we find a bench? Like I said, it's a nice evening."

"I don't want to find a bench. I don't want a soy dog, and I don't want to talk about the weather. I want to go home. So if you don't have anything interesting to say, that's what I'm going to do."

She turned, took three steps.

"You pulled the Kohli homicide."

"That's right." She turned back, and her inner alarm system flashed to red light. "What does that have to do with IAB?"

"I didn't say it had anything to do with IAB, other than the usual run we do when a cop goes down."

"The usual run doesn't mean a private meet, off duty, with the primary."

"We go back a ways." He lifted a hand. "Hell, all the way back to the Academy. It seemed friendlier this way."

She kept her eyes on his as she walked to him, stood toe to toe. "Don't insult me, Webster. Where does IAB come into my investigation?"

"Look, I've seen the prelim. This is a rough one. Rough on the department, his squad, his family."

Something started clicking in her brain. "Did you know Kohli?"

"Not really." Webster gave a thin smile, just a little bitter at the edges. "Most detectives don't care to socialize with Internal Affairs. Funny how we all frown over a dirty cop, but nobody wants to rub elbows with the ones digging them out."

"Are you saying Kohli was dirty?"

"I'm not saying that at all. I wouldn't be at liberty to discuss an internal investigation with you, if there was an internal investigation."

"Bullshit, Webster. Just bullshit. I have a dead cop. If he was mixed up in something off, I need to know."

"I can't discuss IAB business with you. It came to my attention that you've opened his financials."

She paused a minute as her temper threatened to spike. "I can't discuss a homicide investigation with you. And why would part of the procedure of that investigation come to the attention of the Rat Squad?"

"Now you're trying to piss me off." He kept his composure, gave a little shrug. "I thought I would give you a heads-up, unofficially and in a friendly manner, that the department, as a whole, will be better off if this investigation is closed quickly and quietly."

"Was Kohli in bed with Ricker?"

This time a muscle jumped in Webster's cheek, but his voice stayed smooth. "I don't know what you're talking about. Digging into Detective Kohli's financials is a dead end, Dallas, and will upset his family. The man was killed off duty."

"A man was beaten to death. A cop. A woman's been widowed. Two children lost their father. And it's supposed to matter less that it happened when he was off duty?"

"No." He had the grace or the wit to look uncomfortable. And then to look away. "That's just the way it went down. That's all there is to it."

"Don't tell me how to do my job, Webster. Don't ever tell me how to conduct a homicide investigation. You gave up cop work. I didn't."

"Dallas." He caught up with her before she reached the curb again. He gripped her arm and braced himself for the storm when she whirled on him.

Instead, she met his eyes, her own cold, flat, empty. "Move your hand. Now."

He complied, slipping his into his pocket. "I'm just trying to tell you IAB wants this closed quiet."

"What makes you think I give one good f**k about what IAB wants? You have something to say to me regarding my investigation into the death of Detective Taj Kohli, you do it in an official capacity. Don't tail me again, Webster. Not ever."

She climbed into her car, waited for a break in the mild traffic, and swung into a U-turn.

He watched her cover the distance, then turn into the high gates of the world she lived in now. He took three deep breaths, and when that didn't work, kicked viciously at his own rear tire.

He hated what he'd done. And more, he hated knowing he'd never really gotten over her.

CHAPTER THREE

She was steaming when she barreled down the drive to the great stone house Roarke had made his home. And hers.

So much, she thought, for checking your work at the door. What the hell were you supposed to do when it followed you to the damn threshold? Webster was up to something, which meant there was an agenda here, and the agenda was IAB's.