Treachery in Death (In Death #32)(48)

“I bet they are. It’s a good angle. If you get a hit, let me know. I could work a filter from there, so you could take it down a few levels.” When Roarke lifted a brow, Webster nodded. “A filter sanctioned by IAB keeps it from edging into questionable.”

“Understood.”

“If that’s all for tonight, I’ve got to take off.” Webster pushed to his feet. “I’m meeting someone.”

“As pertains to this?” Eve demanded.

“No, as doesn’t pertain to this.” He shot Roarke a quick grin. “Thanks for the pie.”

“I’ll thank you, too.” Mira stepped up as Webster left. “I’ll have profiles on the other officers, get them to you tomorrow. I’d suggest you find a way to talk with members of the squad prior to Renee’s command there, get a sense from them.”

“It’s on my slate,” Eve told her.

When the room finally emptied of cops, Roarke leaned back on Eve’s desk. “Alone at last. And I suppose we’ll be leaving shortly so I can decommission Renee’s official vehicle.”

“I figured you’d enjoy it. A nostalgia thing.”

“It would be more enjoyably nostalgic if I stole it.”

She actually considered it for a moment. “No, it’s better to just take it out. But you need to do it so it looks like a regular—but severe—mechanical problem, not tampering. I don’t want her to be able to use it for, say, a week—and I want diagnostics to see it as a normal breakdown.”

“Well then, at least there’s a tiny challenge involved. I’ll need to change. While I do you can tell me how you plan to fix it so Renee signs your doctored waiver.”

“You should know when you need to run a con, you hire a grifter.”

10

VEHICULAR TAMPERING WASN’T SOMETHING she did every day, particularly with departmental approval. She wondered just how she’d write it up in her report.

Assigned expert consultant, civilian (former thief), to debilitate the official vehicle of a ranked NYPSD officer.

Probably not quite that way.

“She doesn’t deserve to be a ranked NYPSD officer,” Eve muttered.

Roarke glanced over as he drove. “You’re not actually feeling guilty about this?”

“Not guilty. Uncomfortable,” she decided. “It was my idea, and it’s a good step. It’s department property, so the commander can order or approve said step, and we have tacit IAB sanction with Webster’s attachment. But I’m still a cop deliberately and covertly disabling another cop’s ride. So I have to remind myself she doesn’t deserve to be a cop.”

“Whatever gets you through, darling. You might try to enjoy it, as I intend to.” He flashed her a grin, gave her a playful finger in the ribs. “Criminal activity does have its appeal. Otherwise there wouldn’t be so many criminals.”

“It’s not a criminal activity. It’s department sanctioned.”

“Pretend.”

She only rolled her eyes. “The building has—as you’d expect with a cop, and a dirty one at that—solid security. Underground parking for tenants is assigned—”

“Which you already told me, and is the reason I took a little walk through the records for said garage and identified her slot. Level two, slot twenty-three.”

“I’m just going over it.” Because, she admitted, it made it seem less criminal. “Visitor parking is limited to level three. Visitors have to clear garage security. The simplest way is to key in a name and corresponding apartment.”

He tipped her a glance, quick and full of humor. “No, there are simpler.”

“Which I have here,” she added, willfully ignoring him, “from your little walk-through. Apartment 1020, Francis and Willow Martin. There’ll be cams at the entrance to the garage, and on all levels.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“They’ll document the vehicle and tag going in and out,” she continued. “But Renee will have no reason, if you do the job right, to suspect tampering and request a review of the discs.”

“I’ve often wondered what sort of partner in crime you’d make, should we have met back in the day. Now I see, sadly, it would never have worked. I fear, darling Eve, you’re much too tight-assed.”

“I take that as a compliment,” she said between her teeth.

“Which proves the point.”

“Listen, smart-ass, I don’t want to give her any reason to question the disabled ride, or to take too hard a look at the new one.”

“Trust me,” he said simply, and turned to the gated doors of the garage.

“Apartment 1020,” she reminded him.

He said, “Mmm-hmm,” even as the gates lifted.

“How the hell did you do that?”

“I could cite professional secret, but since I’m among friends, I activated a jammer just before I pulled up. It released the gate while it briefly disabled the cam. They’ll have a bit of a video snag—the cams flicking for a time. On the way down,” he continued as he snaked the downward curve. “Then when we’re done, on the way up.”

Slick, she thought. Pretty damn slick. But still. “I don’t know why that’s simpler than just keying in some data.”