Promises in Death (In Death #28)(64)

“What’s it to you?”

“Just making conversation.”

“You homicide cops. You come in after it’s over. We’re the ones out in it every day, trying to keep ass**les from killing each other.”

“Gee, I guess if you did a better job, I’d be out of one.”

He edged in on her with a little tough guy move—quick roll of the shoulders, curl of the lip. “Look, bitch, you don’t have a clue what a real cop does.”

“Oh? Then why don’t you educate me?”

The lip curl went to a sneer.

“Dak.” Cleo Grady strode up. “Newman’s looking for you. He got a bang on the Jane Street case.”

Clifton gave Eve the hard eye for another few seconds. “School’s out. I’ve got to go do some real cop work.”

“Good luck with that,” Eve said pleasantly, then turned to Cleo. “Was that true, or a way to keep your squadmate from taking a shot at a superior officer?”

“It’s true, the other part’s just good luck. We’re all wound a little tight these days, Lieutenant.”

“My impression is Clifton’s always wound a little tight.”

Cleo only shrugged. “We feel shut out some, on top of the rest. We come in here, and it hits us in the face. Somebody took her out, and we’re not part of the investigation. We don’t know you, but we know you’re looking at us. You don’t expect some resentment?”

“Resentment doesn’t bother me, Detective Grady. Murder? That just pisses me off. If Newman got a bang, why didn’t he tag Clifton instead of looking for him in the crowd?”

“You’d have to ask him,” Cleo said coolly. “But maybe to show some respect.”

“When one of you gets a bang on an ongoing when you’re off shift or separated, how do you tag each other?”

“Depends on the circumstances.”

“I’d say communicator if you’re soloing in the field. But if one of you was, say, at home, a ’link tag makes more sense. A lot of cops stash their communicators along with their weapon, their badge, and so on.”

“That’s what I’d do. If you’re asking.”

“Me, too. But I’d try the house ’link first. Hanging at home, why have your pocket on you? Except then that tag would be on the ’link. You tag the pocket, well, all you have to do is take it with you.”

“Goddamn it,” Cleo said under her breath. “You are looking at us.”

“I’m looking at everybody.”

“Look all you want, while whoever did this to Ammy walks away. What kind of cop drags other cops through the blood?”

Cleo spun around, stormed away.

“And here you are, making friends as always.”

Eve glanced over her shoulder, into Roarke’s eyes. “I’ve got a couple more to go.”

“I’ll leave you to it, and pay my condolences to Morris.” He trailed a finger over the shoulder of her uniform jacket. “We need to have a conversation.”

“Okay. As soon as I can. Crowd’s starting to thin out, so I’ve got to piss off a couple more people before this is over.”

“If anyone can,” Roarke said, and left her to it.

She found Delong just outside the doors in conversation with ME Clipper. Delong broke off as Eve approached.

“Lieutenant Dallas.”

“Lieutenant Delong.”

“If you’ll excuse me,” Clipper said, “I haven’t yet paid my respects.”

Delong waited a moment, then gave Eve a come-with-me signal and moved another couple of feet away from the entrance. “I know you’ve got a job to do,” he began, “and nobody, nobody wants you to do that job successfully more than I do. But I’m telling you, here and now, I resent you pushing at my squad. I particularly resent you pushing at my squad here when we’re mourning one of our own.”

“So noted.”

“I hope it is. I’ll also tell you I fully intend to make my feelings known on this to Commander Whitney.”

“You’re free to do so. Meanwhile, I’ll tell you that I believe Detective Coltraine left her apartment that night to go on the job. She left her apartment to go on the job because someone contacted her and lured her out. Someone who knew her habits, someone she trusted. Someone she worked with. Or for.”

Color flooded Delong’s face. “You don’t know that. A cop goes out, she straps it on. For the job, or to go pick up some goddamn milk.”

“Not this cop. If you knew your detective, you know that.”

He didn’t have Clifton’s tough-guy move, but he edged in on Eve just the same. “Do you think you can try digging up dirt on my men? Say one of them killed their fellow officer and not pay a price for it?”

“No, I don’t. If someone did the same to my men, I’d kick some ass. I’d also be asking myself some hard questions. I’d be looking harder and deeper than anyone.”

“I’m not you.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Be careful where you push, and how hard.”

He might have stormed off then, but Whitney and his wife stepped off the glide. Instead, Delong walked stiffly up to them. Hands were shaken, Eve noted, condolences certainly offered. Then she saw Whitney nod before Delong strode onto the upward glide.