Treachery in Death (In Death #32)(99)

“Excellent. Detective, your direct superior is Lieutenant Renee Oberman, Illegals, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Under Lieutenant Oberman you have often partnered with Detective Bill Garnet, of the same squad.”

“Yes.”

“Most recently, you and Detective Garnet were assigned as lead investigators on the Giraldi case. According to my information, Detective Garnet believed that case was about to break.”

“We were pursuing several lines of investigation.”

Eve opened a file, skimmed it as if looking for specific data. “Were any of those lines of investigation pursued due to information received from your lieutenant’s CI, Rickie Keener, now deceased?”

“Not to my knowledge.”

She cocked up her eyebrows. “You had not solicited information from that source?”

“No.”

“Had Garnet?”

“Not to my knowledge.”

“It runs a very high probability, Detective, that as both Keener and Garnet were killed at the same location, their murders are connected, either by perpetrator or purpose, or both.”

“I don’t believe Keener was murdered. I think he overdosed, as his kind often do.”

“That determination isn’t yours to make, Detective. It falls to the ME, to me, to the evidence, which all weigh in on homicide.”

She closed a file, opened another, exposing Keener’s crime scene photos, then slid out one of Garnet’s and set them side-by-side.

“It would be a very strange coincidence if Detective Garnet was murdered in the same location and his death had no connection to Keener’s. Adding to that, you and Garnet entered Keener’s residence, after his death, and performed an illegal search.”

“We believed we had cause, and did not—at that time—know Keener was dead.”

“The cause being a possible connection to your investigation.”

“That’s right.”

“But you had not solicited Keener prior.”

“I didn’t. I said I had no knowledge whether Garnet did. He said he had a hunch, that we needed to give Keener a shake.”

“What was the hunch? What was the purpose of the shake?”

“I don’t know.”

She leaned back. “You and Garnet were working what you consider a major case, one you believed would shortly break. He has a hunch, and you both go to the flop of your lieutenant’s CI. But you don’t ask why, or what you’re looking for when you conduct the illegal search, you don’t ask how Keener might be connected to your investigation.”

Bix shrugged, the first move he’d made since she’d come in to the room. “Garnet wanted to give him a shake. I backed him up.”

“You don’t have much cop curiosity, do you, Bix?”

“I do the job.”

“You follow orders. Did you consider Garnet a partner or a senior detective?”

“He was both. Now he’s neither.”

“Did you get along with him?”

“I didn’t have any problem with him.”

“Friendly, were you?”

“I didn’t have a problem with him,” Bix repeated.

“You had no problem with the fact that your partner and squad mate used illegal substances? The same substances you are assigned to get off the streets.”

“I don’t know anything about that.”

“Don’t know anything about that,” Eve repeated. “You’re either lying or stupid. I’m going for lying as nobody stupid enough not to recognize when their partner’s riding up would make it to detective, and sure as hell wouldn’t make it in Illegals.”

“Think what you want.”

“Oh, I do. I think Garnet had been screwing up lately. I think he pushed at Keener.” She nudged the photos across the table. Bix barely gave them a glance. “Had to be a reason for Keener to move out of his flop and go into a hole. Had to be a reason for somebody to dig him out long enough to kill him. It’s a screwup, losing a weasel that way, especially the boss’s weasel. Then he screws up and illegally enters Keener’s flop, conducts—with you—an illegal search. When he’s called on it, he goes off on a superior—embarrassing his own and earning a rip. But he’s not done screwing up yet. He then gets high and goes after me to the point of drawing his weapon.

“Must know he’s cooked then,” Eve added. “So he finds a drinking buddy—another squad mate, but not his partner. Then he goes back to my crime scene, breaks my seal, enters, and ends up with his throat slit.”

Bix said nothing.

“I think when somebody screws up that large in that short amount of time, the man who works with him knows something about it. I think when a cop’s partner develops an illegals habit, the partner—who one assumes is trained to recognize this—knows something about it.

“What did your partner know about Keener’s murder, Bix?”

“You could ask him.” The tiniest hint of a smirk moved his lips. “But he’s dead.”

“Conveniently. You were military, right, Bix?” she said, opening another file.

“I served.”

“Weapons trained, combat trained. You know how to use a knife. Quick, silent kills—it’s an important skill.” She looked up. “Your parents were military also, and your older brother still is. It’s your heritage, so you understand the importance of following orders. When your LT gives you an order, do you follow it, Detective?”