Judgment in Death (In Death #11)(54)

"Whatever you know or think you know about me, know this: I don't strike out at women, particularly when they've done nothing but be who they are."

He thought of the way he'd handled her the night before, then ruthlessly pushed that aside again. For later.

"And going after you would make Eve unhappy. I might risk that, but I've no reason to."

Webster stared down at his cigarette. "You're not what I expected."

"I could have been."

"Could have beens don't mean squat." Biting back a sigh, Webster took one last drag. "It's what is that counts. That's ah..." He tapped his bruised cheek. "Something I needed to be reminded of." He crushed out the cigarette before getting to his feet. Meeting Roarke's eyes, he held out a hand. "I appreciate the time."

Roarke rose. He felt a stir of pity, another of respect. Each as unexpected as the other. He accepted the hand, smiled. "I've a f**king bruise the size of a dinner plate on my ribs, and my kidney feels like it's been slammed with a brick."

Despite the split lip, Webster grinned. "Thanks." He started for the door, turned back briefly. "You fit, you know, you and Dallas. Christ, the two of you fit."

They did, yes, Roarke thought when the door closed. But the fit wasn't always comfortable.

Commander Whitney didn't explode when Eve relayed the information she'd come by, but it was a close thing.

"Can you verify?"

"No, sir, not at this time. But my information is accurate. My source unimpeachable."

"And that source is?"

She'd considered this, debated it, and saw no choice. "I regret, sir, that I'm unable to reveal the name of my source."

"I'm not a goddamn reporter, Dallas."

"Commander, this information was given to me in confidence. I have no compunction about using the information but can't name the source."

"You're making it more difficult for me to kick ass in IAB."

"I'm sorry about that."

"I'll hit them with it," he continued, drumming his fingers on his desk. "They'll deny, stall, prevaricate. If, as you relate, this operation has been in place some time, they're going to be very reluctant to open it, even with this office."

He sat back, eyes slitted with concentration. "Politics is a dirty little game. I'm very good at it."

"Yes, sir." Eve allowed herself the barest hint of a smile. "You are."

"Be prepared to be called into The Tower to discuss this matter, Lieutenant," he said, referring to the offices of the police commissioner. "I'll start the wheel rolling."

"I'll be available, Commander. At this time, and until this area of my investigation is resolved to our satisfaction, I'll be working with my team at my home office."

He nodded, already turning to his 'link. "Dismissed."

As she jogged through the garage toward her vehicle, Carmichael hailed her.

"Got a little something that might interest you. I've been through most of the witnesses on my list, and hit with one of the waitresses."

"Hit what?"

"Seems this server did some short time for running scams. Nothing major, a little bait and switch. But it gave her a good eye for cops. She claims she made Kohli as one but didn't think anything of it. Didn't make much of the other cop who came in from time to time and sat at the bar sucking down whiskey sours."

"What other cop?"

"Yeah," Carmichael said with a grin. "That was my question. And the answer was the lady cop. The good-looking blonde. When I nudged her a little more, she gave me a pretty fair description of Captain Roth of the One two-eight."

"Son of a bitch."

"Yeah. The general description could have fit a few hundred women, but it rang bells. So I pulled some photos and had her do a match. She plucked Roth's out, first shot."

"Thanks. Keep this quiet, will you?"

"Can do. I was on my way up to drop the record of the interview on your desk." Carmichael pulled a disc out of her bag. "Want it now?"

"Yeah. Thanks again."

Eve jammed the disc in her pocket, hurried to her car. She was going to squeeze in time for a trip to the One two-eight.

"Peabody." She tagged her aide on the run. "Pull up data on Roth and dig. Don't worry about flags, I want them to wave."

"Yes, sir. Your consult with Dr. Mira is set for your home office at ten-thirty."

"I'll try not to keep her waiting. Pull the data now, make it noisy."

Eve didn't expect a brass band welcome when she walked into the One twenty-eighth. What she got was a number of cool stares, muttered asides. One particularly inventive officer oinked.

Rather than ignoring it, she strolled over to his desk, smiled. "You've got a lot of talent there, Detective. Do you hire out for parties?"

He curled his lip. "I got nothing to say to you."

"That's good, because I don't have anything to say to you, either." She kept her eyes on his until he shifted, looked away. Satisfied, she made her way back to Captain Roth's office.

It was a corner room, one Eve imagined had been hard won, with a pair of windows, a good solid desk, and a thriving vining plant on the sill.