Reunion in Death (In Death #14)(71)

She wouldn't be here long.

The rent was steeper than it should have been, and the toilet ran continually. The thin, scarred carpet smelled ripely of must.

But the view was priceless.

Through her binoculars she had a perfect view of Eve's office, and the lieutenant herself.

So sober, so serious, she mused. So dedicated and devoted, worshipping at the altar of law and order. And such a waste.

All those brains, that energy, that purpose tossed away on a badge. And on a man. Under different circumstances, they'd have made an amazing team. But as it was, Julianna thought with a sigh, they were making challenging adversaries.

Eight years, seven months had given Julianna abundant time to examine her mistakes, replay her moves. There was no doubt in her mind that she would have outwitted the cops, the male cops, and spent those eight years, seven months doing what she loved to do.

But a woman was a cagier beast. And the then-freshly promoted Detective Dallas had been cagey indeed. Relentlessly.

More, she hadn't had the common courtesy to acknowledge her opponent's victories and skills.

But things were different now. She herself had changed. She was physically stronger, mentally clearer. Prison tended to hone away the excesses. In the same amount of time she knew Eve had been honed as well. But there was one vital difference between them, one essential flaw in the cop.

She cared. About the victim, about her fellow officers, about the law. And most important, about her man.

It was that flaw, in what Julianna considered a near-perfect machine, that would destroy her.

But not quite yet. Julianna set the binoculars aside, checked her wrist unit. Right now there was time for a little fun.

...

Eve ran into Peabody just outside the bullpen.

"Lieutenant. I thought you were in Texas."

"I was. Got back earlier. You've got updates waiting. You're out of uniform, Officer," she added as she skimmed Peabody's black cocktail dress and mile-high heels.

"Yeah, I'm off-shift. Changed here. I was heading to your place, actually, to scoop up my parents. McNab's taking us out to a fancy dinner. Can't figure what's up with that. He doesn't like fancy, and I'm pretty sure he's scared of them. Not fancy dinners, my parents. Anything I should tell him about the case?"

"Morning's soon enough. Let's do a conference at my home office. Eight hundred."

"Sure. You, ah, heading home now?"

"No, thought I'd go to Africa for an hour and see the zebras."

"Ha-ha." Peabody trotted after her as best she could in the cocktail shoes. "Well, I was just wondering if maybe I could catch a ride, since we're going to the same place at the same time."

"You going to Africa, too?"

"Dallas."

"Yeah, yeah, sure." She had to elbow her way onto the crowded elevator and was cursed roundly.

"You look a little wiped out," Peabody commented as she took advantage of the distraction and squeezed in.

"I'm fine." She heard the bite of irritation in her own voice and made the effort to soften it. "I'm fine," she repeated. "Long day, that's all. You put any time in on Stibbs?"

"Yes, sir." The elevator stopped and a number of passengers popped off like corks out of the tight neck of a bottle. "I was hoping to talk to you about that. I'd like to bring her in for a formal interview tomorrow."

"You set for it?"

"I think so. Yes," she corrected. "I'm set for it. I talked to some of the former neighbors. The suspect didn't have a relationship going. She'd had one, but broke it off just a few weeks after she moved into the same building as the Stibbs. When one witness loosened up, she told me that she hadn't been surprised when Boyd Stibbs married Maureen. How Maureen moved in on him quick, fast, and in a hurry after his wife's death. Taking him meals, tidying up his apartment, that sort of thing. Basic good-neighbor stuff until you look under it."

The elevator stopped eight times, disgorging passengers, taking more on.

An Illegals detective, undercover as a sidewalk sleeper, shambled on wearing a full-length duster stained with what appeared to be various bodily fluids. The stench was awesome.

"Jesus, Rowinsky. Why don't you use a damn glide, or at least stand downwind?"

He grinned, showing off yellowed teeth. "Really works, doesn't it? It's cat piss, with a little dead fish juice. Plus, I haven't showered in a week, so the BO's tremendous."

"You've been under way too long, pal," Eve told him and breathed through her teeth until he shambled off again. She didn't risk a good gulp of air until they hit garage level.

"I hope none of it got on me," Peabody said as she clicked along behind Eve. "That kind of smell gets right into the fibers."

"That kind of smell gets right into the pores, then it breeds."

On that cheerful note, Eve slid into the car. She backed out, spun the wheel, and arrowed for the exit. And was forced to slam the brakes as a man disguised as a mountain lumbered in front of her car. His rag-shoes flapped as he stepped forward and sprayed her windshield with a filthy liquid he carried in a plastic bottle in the pocket of his grimy Yankees jacket.

"Perfect. Must be my day for sleepers." Disgusted, Eve slammed out of the car as the man wiped at her coated windshield with a dirty rag.