Strangers in Death (In Death #26)(41)

To keep from drawing attention, she crossed at the light, kicked it up to a weaving sprint, ignored the curses from people she bumped aside. She kept the bagman in her crosshairs, and was less than three yards behind him when he turned into a storefront offering New York City souvenirs, including T-shirts at three for $49.95.

She pulled open the door. Short, narrow shop, she noted, evaluating quickly. One male, one female working the side counter, and the bagman heading straight back.

Goddamn uniforms, she thought.

“Help ya?” the woman said, without much interest.

“Yeah, I see something I want.” Eve strode up behind the bagman, tapped his shoulder. She angled so his body was between her and the counter, in case the others got frisky, then held up her badge. “You’re busted.”

The woman at the counter screamed as if an ax cleaved her skull. In the split second that distracted Eve, the bagman’s elbow connected with her cheekbone. Stars exploded.

“Goddamn it.” Eve rammed her knee up his ass, and backhanded him into the T-shirt display. With the side of her face yipping and her weapon in her hand, she pivoted. “Lady,” she warned as the woman scrambled over the counter in a bid for the front door. “One more step and I stun you stupid. On the floor. On the f**king floor, facedown, hands behind your head. You.” She jerked her head toward the counterman who stood with his hands high in the air. “You’re good. Stay like that. And you.”

She gave the bagman an annoyed boot. “Why’d you have to go and do that? It’s all worse now, isn’t it?”

“I just came in here to buy a T-shirt.”

“Yeah? Were you going to pay for it out of one of these?” She toed the collection of wallets and handbags that spilled out of the shopping bag.

She stared blandly at the two uniforms who rushed in from the street. “Gee, sorry, guys. Did I interrupt your coffee break? Check the back. I believe I detect suspicious activity in this establishment.” She pressed her fingers lightly to her throbbing cheek. “Fucking A. And call for a wagon to haul these f**kheads in. Robbery, trafficking in stolen goods—”

“Hey, Lieutenant! There’s a couple hundred wallets and bags back here. And credit/debit card and ID card dupes.”

“Yeah?” Eve smiled winningly at the now very sad-eyed man with his hands in the air. “Fraud, identity theft. The gift that keeps on giving.”

It took another twenty minutes, but when Eve crossed the street again, Tiko stood exactly where she’d told him.

“I told them, the cops when I saw them coming.” He bounced on the toes of his black skids. “I told them where.”

“You did good.”

“You gotta mouse coming on. You get in a fight with the suspicious character?”

“I kicked his ass. Break it down, Tiko. You’re done for today.”

“I can get another hour in, make up for going downtown and all.”

“Not today.”

“You taking those people to jail?”

“The uniforms are taking them. They don’t need the top bitch cop to turn the key,” she said, anticipating him. “Where are your digs, Tiko?”

He narrowed his eyes. “You don’t think I got digs?”

“If you’ve got them, tell me where so I can take you.”

“Round the corner. Apartment on the third floor, above the Greek place. Told you this was my yard.”

“Yeah, you did. Break it down. Let’s go.”

He wasn’t happy about it, she could see, but he did it. “Cost me five easy, quitting this early when I took off to go down and get you.”

“I bought you a fizzy.”

Because his stony stare appealed to her, she dug out some credits. Counted fifty. “That’s ten percent of the five you say you lost. I figure it covers your time and your transportation.”

“Solid.” The credits disappeared into one of several pockets. “You stun any of those people in there?”

“No.” What the hell, Eve thought. She could add some juice to the fifty. “But the woman screamed like a girl and tried to run. I told her to drop, or I’d stun her.”

“Would ya?”

“Damn right. They’d stolen from a lot of people, and they were making dupe cards in the back. Looks like they were lifting IDs, too.”

He shook his head in disgust. “Stealing’s lazy.”

Intrigued, she looked down at him. “Is it?”

“Shit, yeah. Any lazy dumbass can steal. Takes brains and some juice to make money. We up here.” He opened a door next to a tiny gyro place. The closet-sized lobby held an elevator. On it the Out of Order sign looked about a decade old. Eve climbed the stairs with the boy. The place smelled like onions and garlic, not entirely unpleasant. The walls were dingy, the steps stained and steep.

She imagined him climbing up and down them every day, hauling his case. Yeah, it took some juice.

On the third floor, he dug out a set of keys from one of his pockets, unlatched three locks. “You can come in if you want to meet my granny.”

Something was cooking. Eve caught the tomatoey scent when she stepped into the tiny room, which was sparse and lace-curtain tidy.

“That my boy?” someone called through a narrow doorway.

“Yes, ma’am, Granny. I got somebody with me.”