Golden in Death(91)

“How much did you tell him?”

“Here’s the thing, after he got that the NYPSD had interviewed his son once, and wanted a follow-up, he stepped into his lawyer shoes. As his son’s legal counsel, he demanded to know, etc. I kept it close, but gave him enough to worry him. Added that we’d have the PA’s office there. He wants to speak to the prosecutor, made it clear he’d speak for his son, questions to be addressed to legal counsel, and all that. Ten tomorrow.”

“Good work, Peabody.”

“I know the dad look, right? He’s pissed, and a little scared.”

“Murder will do that. Tag Reo, tell her—”

“Already did. She’s talking to her boss now. She’ll tag you back.”

“Okay. I’ll get back to you.”

She ran through it in her head as she drove. She needed more on Whitt, needed to build a solid case. Cosner could be key. The right pressure, she mused, he’d crack. Loyalty only went so far, and if they could convince the father they had enough to tie his son up in a murder investigation, convince him they believed Whitt had called the shots …

He’d make a deal to keep his kid on-planet. Maybe cut it to twenty per count, served concurrently. She could live with that—if it helped put Whitt away for life.

Her ’link signaled again as she drove through her home gates. “Dallas.”

“Reo here. I just finished meeting with the boss. There’s a lot of it depends here, Dallas.”

“Whitt and Cosner, together, killed two people. No it depends about it.”

“You say it, I believe it.” Eve watched Reo with her stylishly curly blond mop and crisp white shirt program coffee from her office AC. “Proving it’s different.”

“He’ll break, Reo. Cosner will break. He’s weak, he’s lazy, he’s an addict. His family’s propping him up. Eventually that breaks, too.”

“His family’s firm isn’t peanuts. They’re top-of-the-line, and we don’t have enough to charge him.”

“We have enough to sweat him.”

“Maybe, but even if we loosen him up with enough sweat, there’s no way his father or whatever criminal attorneys they bring in will let him talk without a deal.”

Eve didn’t mention she’d already worked out a deal in her head. “For fuck’s sake, Reo.” She parked, slammed out of the car for show. “We don’t even have him in the box and you’re talking deal.”

“I’m talking reality,” Reo snapped back. “First one to flip gets the prize. It’s a classic for a reason. You believe Whitt’s the one running things, so figure out how much you want him.”

“I want them both.” Eve shoved open the front door.

“So let’s try to get them both. We start offering Cosner on-planet.”

Summerset’s eyebrows rose as Eve stormed down the foyer to the stairs.

“Maybe we should offer him some nice spa treatments while we’re at it, some freaking canapés.”

As she stomped up the steps, still bitching, Summerset smiled at her back. Then looked down at the cat. “The lieutenant’s in a much better frame of mind this evening.”

As if in agreement, Galahad trotted upstairs after her.

Satisfied Reo’s outline of a potential deal aligned with hers, Eve headed to the bedroom. She wanted out of the suit.

From his perch on the bed, Galahad watched her dig out a sweatshirt—black—trousers—black—ancient high-tops—black.

“It’s, what, monochromatic, right?”

She sat on the side of the bed a moment to give the cat a rub. “It’s turning, pal, I can feel it turning. We just have to lock it down before he kills somebody else. The snotty, smug son of a bitch.”

After giving Galahad one last pat, she rose, started for the office. The cat beat her there, whizzed through the door, and leaped on her sleep chair.

And Roarke stepped out of his adjoining office.

“Hey. You’re here.”

“I am.” He walked to her, kissed her. “As are you. I thought as much when I heard the thunder of cat feet.”

“Not exactly light on them, is he? You’re working from home?”

“Just finished, actually, and the timing’s rather exquisite.” He strolled over, opened the wall panel, chose wine, two glasses.

“I’m not finished working,” she began, but he handed her a glass, took her free hand.

“No doubt, but, again, timing. We need to take advantage of it.”

“Where are we going?” she asked as he drew her out of the room.

“For a bit of a walk before the sun goes down and takes the warmth of the day with it. And how was your day, Lieutenant?”

She could spare time for a walk, she decided, especially since he seemed seriously pleased about something. It was probably part of the Marriage Rules not to stomp on your spouse’s seriously pleased before you even found out what it was.

“Productive,” she told him. “I was going to tap you, if you have room for it, to make the rest of my day even more productive.”

“Sounds interesting.” He went out a door on the second floor, crossed over a terrace where somebody had placed pots of sassy-looking flowers, down stone steps.