Forgotten in Death(89)

“Whatever. Stupid. And I’m counting all the damn bird rows on this. Get Reo set up.”

Why would anybody count chickens anyway? she wondered as she got in her car. And no way ducks would just stand in a row.

What she had was everything and everyone lined up. And she’d damn well make sure it worked.

She didn’t rush. Let him wait. When she parked at Central she took her time, suffered the endless stop and go of the elevator, and didn’t push off until the floor below Homicide.

From there she jogged up the glide like a woman late for an appointment, then hurried into the bullpen.

Peabody had him sitting in a chair beside her desk. It didn’t surprise Eve in the least to see he’d worn his uniform—all spit and polish.

He rose when he saw her, offered a polite, restrained smile and a hand to shake as he crossed to her.

“Lieutenant Dallas.”

“Chief, sorry I’m running late. Detective, didn’t you offer Chief Wicker some coffee?”

“I—”

“Never mind. I’ll get you some in my office. If you’d come with me.”

“Sir?” Peabody, the meek and mild, chewed on her bottom lip. “I’m sorry, sir, but your office is still closed off.”

“What? They said they’d be finished by last night.”

“Yes, sir, but they ran into a problem. They said by noon.”

“Damn it. Fine. I’m sorry, Chief, Maintenance isn’t always reliable.”

“I hear that.”

“We’ll take Interview A. Private, quiet. Detective, I need the evidence box on Quirk and the paperwork secured in my office. Bring it to A.”

“Sir, the Elliots aren’t due to come in for the victim’s effects until this afternoon.”

“I’m very aware.” Eve matched the cold tone with a cold stare. “The evidence box I clearly marked for Chief Wicker. Please come with me.” Tone changed, brisk, but welcoming. “How was your flight?”

“Smooth enough. It’s been a long time since I shuttled out East.”

“You’ve been to New York before?”

“No, first time. Wish I could spare a couple days to see some sights. Atlanta, Georgia, a few years ago, and West Virginia, lord, years before that. Work conferences.”

“I hope you have an opportunity to come back to New York. Be sure to let me know if you do.”

She opened the door, gestured him inside. And turned on her lapel recorder.

“So this is where the magic happens?”

“I like to think so. It happened yesterday when we sweated a full confession out of the man who killed your ex-wife. Again, I’m sorry for your loss.”

“I very much appreciate that. And I appreciate you letting me have this piece of her to take with me. In my mind, she’s still the girl I married. Young and charming with her silliness, and with a sweet heart.”

“And she just walked out on you one day.”

“Her father walked out on her, so I guess it’s in the blood. I don’t think she ever got over it. Abandonment issues. And she never got over her mother’s death. Her mother was a cop. Took one too many risks. A woman with no husband and three kids at home, but she kept taking those risks.”

In his world, Eve concluded, women belonged where he’d boxed Alva—in the house, where the man ruled.

“You and Alva didn’t have any children?”

“No, we weren’t blessed. Just as well. She tended to be forgetful, just lose herself in her daydreams.”

Eve nodded as if she understood, then looked over as Peabody came in with an evidence box.

“That’ll be all.”

“Lieutenant.” Peabody looked close to tears as she clutched the box. “I’m sorry, sir, but the new directives and protocols are very clear.”

“For Christ’s sake, Chief Wicker is a LEO.”

“I know, sir, but it’s mandatory. And—and—and, I had to sign for the evidence box.”

Eve let out a long sigh. “Another stickler,” she said to Wicker in a tone dipped in annoyance. “Any transfer of effects from a homicide—this comes from upstairs—has to be on the record. And the recipient of same must be Mirandized and asked a series of routine questions.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“I hear that,” she said, echoing him. “And it’s a time suck. But it’s from upstairs. I apologize for this, and I’ll make it quick.” She sent Peabody a scalding look. “Record on. Dallas, Lieutenant Eve, Peabody, Detective Delia, following protocol in the transfer of certain personal effects of Quirk, Alva—aka Wicker—to Wicker, Garrett, chief of police of…”

He smirked. “Moses, Oklahoma.”

“Right, sorry, Moses, Oklahoma. In order to turn over these items, Chief Wicker, as they were evidence in a homicide investigation, now closed, I need to read you your rights.”

He waved a hand and sat patiently while Eve recited the Revised Miranda. “I have to ask if you understand your rights and obligations in this matter.”

“Sure do. Read them off plenty of times myself.”

“I bet. Let me just ask the required questions. What was your relationship with the deceased?”