Promises in Death (In Death #28)(65)

The Whitneys crossed the distance to Eve.

“Commander, Mrs. Whitney.”

Mrs. Whitney, trim in her stark black suit, took Eve’s hand in both of hers. The gesture, so out of character, had Eve blinking. “You have a difficult job. More difficult today.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I’ll be right in,” Whitney said, and patted his wife’s arm. He blew out a breath when she went into the bereavement room. “A cop goes down, those with the bad luck to be married to one feel it. Well. Lieutenant Delong wants to speak with me, at my earliest convenience. You wouldn’t know what that may be about, would you, Lieutenant?”

“I couldn’t say, sir.”

“Won’t say. You’re cutting close to the bone, I expect. As squad boss, he’d want to defend and protect his men.”

“Yes, sir. Or he’s protecting himself.”

“If you connect him, or any of his squad to Ricker, make it solid. If we aim to put a cop in a cage, I don’t want any room for error.”

Though she wanted to get back upstairs, Eve took the time to corner Clipper. “What did Delong want?” she demanded. When Clipper merely looked pained, she hissed out a breath. “I’m investigating a cop murder. If it applies to my case, I want to know what he said.”

“He just asked if there was anything I could tell him, and why he’s blocked from receiving any reports on the case. He’s upset and frustrated, Dallas. Who wouldn’t be?”

“What did you tell him?”

“That my hands are tied. You’re in charge. That’s the way it is, and that’s the way my boss wants it. So my hands are tied.” Clipper used one of them to rub the back of his neck. “He’s steaming over you. I figure you know that already.”

“Yeah, I got a sense.”

“Every one of his men have contacted or come down to the morgue, hoping for information. I’ve got it locked down.”

“I appreciate that. Any of them give you grief?”

Clipper gave his trim goatee a slow, thoughtful stroke. “We’ll say Detective Clifton suggested I make love to myself, and suggested I’d already done so with my mother, on several occasions.”

“You’re a card, Clip. Did he get physical?”

“I was holding a laser scalpel at the time of our conversation. I can say I had the impression he might have wanted to dance otherwise.”

“Okay.”

“There’s really nothing I can tell any of them.”

“Yeah, but they don’t know that. Let’s keep it that way.”

Eve caught Roarke’s eye as he spoke with the Whitneys. She angled her head toward the door, then signaled to Peabody.

Roarke, she thought, knew where to find her.

“Impressions,” Eve said as she started up with Peabody.

“That’s a very unhappy squad, with some anger just under the line. Word’s circulating that we’re spending more time and energy looking for dirt on them than on pursuing alternate leads.”

“Where did the word originate?”

“You know how it is, Dallas. This one says he heard that from this one who said that. Cops are gossip whores. I will say I haven’t been pumped so many times in such a short span since McNab and I moved into the apartment and felt honor bound to do it in every room. Twice.”

“Yes, my day wouldn’t have been complete without hearing that.”

“Various techniques,” Peabody continued, “which also bring back fond memories of that night. Delong’s straight out, with an authoritative snap. Like I’m required to answer his questions because he’s rank. The Newman guy sort of circles around, trying to get you to trip up and spill. O’Brian’s got the sad eyes and fatherly demeanor going for him. Grady tries the solidarity between us girl detectives. And Clifton goes direct to bully.”

“Did he put hands on you?”

“Not quite. I think that was going to be next, but O’Brian drew him off. Before that, Clifton got pissy I wasn’t telling him whatever he wanted to know and accused me of being an ass kisser. I responded that I have yet to have the privilege of kissing your ass, which I rate as the best—female variety—in the department.”

“That sounds like a pucker-up to me.”

Peabody snorted. “It was worth it. He went all puce. Or is it fuchsia? Which is the weird name that means hot pink?”

“I have no idea, nor want one.”

“Anyway, he went that color, and I’m pretty sure he was going to give me a shove. Then O’Brian came up, got in front of him.”

“That was enough?”

“He said, ‘Remember where you are, Dak. Don’t shame our Ammy, or the rest of your squad.’ Clifton said it was a couple of homicide bitches trying to shame the squad. But he backed off, walked away. Then O’Brian apologized for him, with the sad eyes and father demeanor.”

Eve grunted, and walked straight into the locker room. “Interesting. Interesting dynamics over there.” She thought it through as she undressed.

“O’Brian’s the father figure. The oldest, the most experienced. The rest of them look to him, even before they look to the lieutenant. He has them over for barbecues and—what do you call them—potluck dinners.”