Indulgence in Death (27 page)

“I trust you enough to know you can and will handle yourself, and use the resources you have available to ensure your own safety.”

“Eve, please don’t stand there and shovel that bullshit at my feet. These are good shoes.”

She hissed out a breath, but at the end of it he saw the chip on her shoulder tumble off. “Okay, I would trust you, but I’d also have some concerns, worries, and dark thoughts. And you’d be sorry I did. You’d hate that I did.”

“All right.”

She squinted at him. “All right? That’s it?”

“I had a bigger and considerably more vicious fight with you before, in my head. It was passionate, fierce, and very, very loud.”

“Who won?”

He had to touch her, just a skim of his fingertip down the little dent in her chin. “We hadn’t quite got there, but since we’ve finished it here, I like to think we both have.”

“I meant what I said in there, which I shouldn’t have said in front of Whitney. I can’t have another face on that board.” He watched her face change, watched her let him see what was inside.

“The ones on there now, I couldn’t stop it; I couldn’t save them. But if there’s another, I own it, because I know I have the tools to stop it. To make the best possible effort to stop it.”

“And the warrants aren’t enough?”

“I had to believe it to sell it, so I did. I still do, almost clear through.” She looked away for a moment. “But there’s that fraction, that percentage that maybe they’ve covered everything, that we won’t find enough to charge them—or we’ll charge them, indict them, and that fleet of high-priced lawyers will find enough little holes to spring them. I’m hedging my bets, and I’ve got a couple other ideas that should add more edge. You could help me with them.”

“I suppose I could.”

“Do you know where they’re going to be tonight?”

“They’re attending the ballet, at the Strathmore Center.”

“Can you score us tickets?”

“We have a box. They are, however, meeting for drinks at Lionel’s before the performance.”

“That’ll work even better.” She took his hand, linked fingers. “Let me lay it out for you.”

H
e had to admit, she’d slapped together an interesting and inventive scenario in very short order. He refined it a bit, and felt as confident as he could.

“I’m going to give Reo another thirty. She should’ve finished talking to her boss by then. I’ll need to brief the team.”

“They’re meeting at seven. That gives you time for an hour’s sleep. Not negotiable,” he said before she objected. “And not on the damn floor. There have to be cots at least in your infirmary.”

“I hate the infirmary.”

“Suck it up,” he advised.

“Mira has a big couch in her session room. I’ll ask if I can use it.”

“Make it we. I could use a lie-down myself.”

She slept like the dead woman a couple of rich guys wanted her to be, then contacted Reo. Again.

“Tell me you’ve got it.”

“I told you I’d contact you when I did. Didn’t I tell you the boss thinks Judge Dwier’s the best hit on this?” The testy edge of frustration came through loud and clear. “No known connections with either family, solid reputation, open-minded, and so on and so on, and didn’t I tell you Judge Dwier is fly-fishing in Montana?”

“And didn’t I say go with another choice?”

“Don’t tell us our jobs. The PA’s talking to the judge right now. He’s walking him through it, and my sense is we’re nearly there. We’re ninety percent there.”

“Close enough. When you’ve got it, tag Baxter. He’ll head up that end.”

“Where are you going to be?”

“I’m going to meet a couple guys at a bar.”

She clicked off as Feeney came in. “Gotta suit you up.”

“I can do that.” Roarke walked in behind him, carrying a silver garment bag. “She’ll need to change anyway.”

“Into what?” Eve demanded.

“Appropriate attire. Your con will be more convincing if you’re dressed for an evening out.”

“I’ll test you out when you’re attired.” With a snort, Feeney strolled out.

“Strip it off, Lieutenant,” Roarke told her. He shut and locked the door.

“I need to be able to carry my weapon.”

“I said appropriate attire.” He unzipped the bag.

The dress was short, simple, and black. But it came with a hip-skimming jacket that fastened up the front with a lot of fancy loops.

“Somebody could kill me five times before I got that jacket undone and drew my weapon.”

Roarke simply demonstrated by tugging the jacket open. “The loops are for show.”

“Not bad. Not bad at all.” When she peeled off her clothes, Roarke fixed on the recorder, the mic, the earpiece. “Where’d the dress come from?”

“Your closet. I had Summerset bring it down. Along with the accessories.” He held up diamond earrings. “They’ll see these, believe me, and won’t give a single thought to the possibility you’re wired. And switch your wrist unit for the evening one.”

She gave it, all that fire and ice, a dubious glance. “I haven’t really played with that one.”

“It works the same way as your everyday. You can carry a clutch piece in this bag—though not much else. Add the shoes.”

They were hot murder red with heels that made her arches twinge when she looked at them. “How am I supposed to run in those?”

He gave her a quick, amused look. “Are you planning on running?”

“You never know.” But she dressed, and added the murderous shoes. “Appropriate?”

“You’re perfect.” He framed her face with his hands. “Perfect for me.”

“We’re supposed to be pissed at each other, remember. You need to get in character.”

“I never have a problem acting pissed at you.” When he grinned, he brushed his lips over hers. He laid his forehead to hers briefly at the knock on the door, then crossed over to answer.

“Peabody, you look lovely.”

“Thanks.” She lifted her hands, palms up to Eve. “Well?”

She also wore black, young and funky, with a brightly striped sleeveless vest that covered her sidearm. With her hair done in crazed corkscrew curls, her eyes lined in emerald green, and her lips as red as Eve’s shoes, Eve was forced to agree.

“You’re right. They won’t make you.”

“McNab and I are heading out now so we’ll already be in place when the subjects get there. Detective Carmichael and the new guy will take the ballet. Baxter’s waiting for the go, then he’ll have both search units move in.”

“Good work, Peabody.”

“See you at the bar.”

“She’s juiced,” Eve commented. “She took a booster earlier, but this is just juice. Because we’re close, because we’re going to bring them in before much longer. Bring them in, sweat them, break them. End it.”

“Someone else is juiced.”

“Bet your ass, ace.” She did a couple of squats and pivots to see how the dress cooperated. “Can you tell I’m loaded? The weapon,” she elaborated when he smiled at her.

“I can. They won’t. You know, I’m starting to enjoy this whole business myself.”

“Wait till I unload on them.” She tore open the jacket, pulled her weapon. Slapped it back in its harness. “You’re going to get a serious charge.”

T
hey walked into the elegant lounge with its deep ruby and rich sapphire tones in what appeared to be a low-voiced continuation of an argument. When Roarke cupped her elbow, she deliberately jerked it away, let her voice spike up.

“Don’t try to placate me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. Two,” he said to the hostess who, admirably, kept her face blank and polite. “Roarke.”

“Yes, sir, of course. I have your booth ready. Just this way.”

“You know the kind of pressure I’m dealing with,” Eve continued, keeping her eyes on Roarke. “The commander’s setting up permanent residence on my ass.”

“It would be a lovely change of pace if we could spend one bloody evening not discussing your commander, your problems. Whiskey,” he told the hostess. “A double.”

“And for you, madam?”

“Head Shot, straight up.”

Roarke leaned into her as if murmuring something, and she jerked back. “Because I need it, that’s why. Look, I’m here, aren’t I? Which is more than you’ll be tomorrow since you’re leaving town. Again.”

“I have work, and responsibilities, Eve.”

“So do I.”

“Yours don’t put toys like this on your ears,” he said and gave one of her earrings a flick of his finger.

“I earn those other ways, and don’t you forget—” She broke off as if just spotting Dudley and Moriarity. “Oh, that’s perfect. That’s just fucking perfect.”

“Keep your voice down.”

“Don’t tell me what to do. I’m sick of orders. I’m the top murder cop in this goddamn city, and I’m getting zip from the department on this, and less than zip from you. Well, fuck that. I’m getting some of my own, and right now.”

She shoved out of the booth, and he timed his lunge to stop her seconds too late.

She had to admit striding the few short feet to the next booth in the killer red heels felt powerful.

“You think I’m stupid?”

“Lieutenant Dallas.” All concerned charm, Dudley reached for her hand. “You seem upset.”

“You touch me and I’ll haul you in for assaulting an officer.” She slapped her palms on the table between them, leaned in. “I know you killed Delaflote and Jonas, probably the others, too, but those I know.”

“I think you must be drunk,” Moriarity said, very quietly.

“Not yet. Believe me when I tell you I’ll make a case. I don’t care how long it takes or what it takes. You’re not going to beat me at my own game. This is what I do.”

“Eve.” Roarke stepped up to her, gripped her arm. “Stop this. We’re leaving.”

“Your wife seems very upset and not a little deranged.” Dudley smiled. “You don’t appear to be able to control her.”

“Nobody controls me, asshole. You want to leave.” She turned on Roarke. “Fine. Go. Why don’t you just go wherever you’re shuttling off to right now instead of tomorrow and get off my back?”

“That’s an excellent idea. Gentlemen, my sincere apologies. You can get yourself home,” he said to Eve.

“I’ll get there, when I’m good and ready.” As Roarke walked out, she spun back to the booth. “The department won’t give me the money to go full-out on you two. Screw them. He’ll give it to me.” She jerked her head in the direction Roarke had taken. “I know how to get what I want. The PA may not have the balls to give me a go now, but give me time. I close cases. I’ll close this.”

She grabbed one of the drinks on the table, tossed back a swallow before slamming it down again. “Did you think I wouldn’t see? Using your people as dupes, covering each other’s ass while the other one gets the kill in? You both knew the last two victims, and I’ll find how you knew the first two. I’m the hot breath on your neck.”

“You’re making a fool of yourself,” Moriarity told her—but his gaze shifted to Dudley’s.

“Like Delaflote made a fool out of the Dudleys when he was nailing Winnie’s mommy?” She bared her teeth in a smile. “Oh, yeah, I know. I know a lot. Nearly there, boys. Nearly time to pay the bill.”

“Madam.” The hostess came over, eyes full of apologies for the men. “I have to ask you to leave.”

“No problem. I can find better places to drink than a dump that serves scum like these two. Drink up,” she told both men. “They don’t serve fancy liquor in the cages you’re going to be in within forty-eight. And that’s just where I’m going to put you. You can bet on it.”

Eve almost wished she wore a cape so she could’ve swirled it as she stormed out of the room.

She kept storming a block north, turned, and kept the pace another half a block. Feeney opened the back of the e-van. She hopped in, yanked off the shoes. “How’d I do?”

“If I was married to you, I’d be divorced.”

Roarke took her hand, kissed it. “She’s a bitch, but she’s my bitch.”

She tapped her ear. “Peabody reports they’re in intense conversation. It looks to her like Dudley’s trying to convince Moriarity, is pushing a point.”

“I can hear her.” Roarke tapped in turn. “You’re not the only one with ears.”

“Oh. That was a good idea, putting it out you’d be gone tonight. They’re going to want to make their move.”

She turned her wrist when her com signaled. “Check this,” she said to Feeney. “Dallas.”

“Reo pulled it off,” Baxter told her. “We got the warrants.”

“Don’t go in yet. Give them some time. If this worked, one or both of them is going to show up at one of the houses or one of the HQs where they have private quarters. They need to get the weapon. Let them come and go. No longer than ten minutes in. It’s over that, move in. I don’t want to have spooked them into ditching any evidence, but if we take them in with a weapon, we’re going to add attempted on a police officer. That’s the icing on the cupcake.”

“We’re on hold.”

“Seems a shame to waste the performance,” she said to Roarke. “Damn it.” She scowled at Peabody’s voice in her ear. “They’re ordering another drink. Maybe they’re not going to bite after all. Stick with them,” she ordered Peabody, then answered the com again. “What?”

“Movement at the Moriarity house. It’s the droid, Dallas, the same droid we have going into the Frost/Simpson house.”

She shook her head in wonder. “God, they are idiots. They didn’t destroy the droid, and odds are he’ll bring them the weapon. I want a team on that droid. I want to know where it goes, what it does. When it’s clear of the house, move in. All locations.”

She rubbed her bare foot. “They bit.”

“I believe they did,” Roarke commented.

22

EVE TRIED TO IGNORE THE FACT THAT FEENEY and Roarke were talking in e-geek. That was bad enough, but on the other side of her McNab and Peabody snuggled up together like a couple of sleepy puppies, and she was pretty sure the murmurs and giggles were some sort of sex talk.

If she didn’t get out of the damn van soon, she’d commit mass murder. She’d use the ice-pick heel of one of the arch-throbbing red shoes to skewer geek and puppy brains.

They’d make a good weapon, she considered. With the right force, the right angle, you probably could skewer brains.

Maybe that’s why women wore them,
as a just in case I have to kill somebody
tool. That, at least, made some sense. Except it would make more sense to wear them on your hands where they’d be right there if you needed—

Her homicidal thoughts scattered as Carmichael spoke in her ear.

“Subjects entering the theater.”

“Copy that. Keep eyes on them.”

“On them now. They’re heading straight to the bar. Ordering a bottle of champagne for their box. Making a big show of it, a lot of loud, hearty laughter, drawing attention. They’re heading in now. Staff’s scrambling to get it up to their box before curtain.”

Establishing the alibi, Eve thought. “Take positions. One of them goes to take a leak, you’re with them.”

“I think I’ll leave that to the new guy. Out.”

“Cutting it close,” Eve said. “Getting there five minutes to curtain, ordering champagne. The bartender will remember them, and so will the servers and some of the people milling around.”

Idiots, she thought, but not completely stupid.

“They’ll need to wait until the performance starts to make any move. Wait until people are watching the stage, the house is dark. But soon. It has to be soon. Cut it out.” She gave Peabody a shove. “You’re making my eye twitch.”

“We’re just sitting here.”

“I know sex giggles when I hear them.”

“I wasn’t giggling.”

“Not you. Him.”

McNab just grinned at her. “Those were manly chuckles.”

“You’re cops. Be cops.”

She shifted, scowled. “What are you smiling at?” she demanded of Roarke.

“Why don’t you sit here and I’ll tell you.” With a sparkling look in his eyes, he patted his knee. “And I might produce a manly chuckle of my own.”

“Stop it. You’re embarrassing Feeney.”

“I’m past it,” Feeney muttered and kept his head down. “Surrounded by a bunch of giggling, twitching, chuckling fools when we’re on an op looking to take down a couple of crazy thrill killers.”

“Didn’t I tell them to cut it out?”

“You give them any attention you just encourage them.” He said it mournfully, raising his gaze to hers. “Now I’ll start twitching because you chipped the wall.”

“What wall?”

“The wall I build in my head so I don’t hear the sex giggles. Now you chipped it, and I’ll hear them, and I’ll be twitching.”

“So it’s my fault? Your wall’s weak, that’s what it is, if I can chip it just by mentioning—Shut up,” she ordered, snapping to when her ’link signaled. “Everybody zip it.” She looked at the display, and then she smiled. “Showtime.”

She scrubbed her fingers in her hair to disorder it, slapped her cheeks to pink them up, then brought the ’link close to her face. From Dudley. “The fuck you want, asshole?” she demanded, slurring her words.

“Lieutenant Dallas, thank God. You have to listen to me. I only have a few moments.”

“Screw you.”

“No, no, don’t cut me off. I need your help. It’s Sly. I think . . . dear God, I think he’s mad.”

“Speak up. It’s noisy in this place. I can barely hear you.”

“I can’t risk speaking any louder.” He continued to use dramatic hisses and whispers. “Listen to me, listen! I think he killed Delaflote, and poor Adrianne. The things he said after you left Lionel’s . . . I can’t believe it. He was so angry, and frightened, too. He said . . . I can’t tell you all this over the ’link. He’s drinking, too much. I think I can get away, soon. Make an excuse, or hope he passes out and get away to meet you. I need to tell you . . . please, you have to meet me.”

“Where the fuck are you? I’ll call it in, slap his drunk ass in restraints.”

“No, no! What if I’m wrong? He’s my oldest, dearest friend. Have pity. I’m asking for your help. Yours, Lieutenant, because you’ll know what to do. If I’m overreacting, you’ll know, and Sly won’t be embarrassed. And if I’m right, you’ll solve these horrible murders tonight before he . . . You’ll be a heroine, again. You’ll be credited for stopping this madness. You alone. I don’t want my name involved. It’s . . . painful. Please, please. I’m at the Strathmore Center. I can slip out. I can’t go far. I’ll have to get back before intermission in case . . . Our Lady of Shadows. It’s only a block away.”

Inside, her smile spread even as she scowled into the ’link. “A freaking church?”

“It’s close, and we can talk without being interrupted or overheard. I have to trust you. I have to trust you’ll know what to do. I’ll be there in twenty minutes, and then I’ll tell you everything I know. You’re the only one I can tell.”

“Yeah, yeah, fine. It’d better be good, Dudley. I’ve had a shitty day.”

She cut him off, tapped the ’link against her palm. “They do think I’m stupid.”

“Pissed-faced and stupid,” Roarke added. “They’ll double-team you.”

“Absolutely. Feeney.”

“I’ve got it.”

“McNab, take the wheel while I bring in the teams. I want street level and I want no more than two blocks from the target site.”

“You got it.”

“What are you doing on that thing?” Eve asked as Roarke worked on his PPC.

“Bringing up the floor plans of the church again. You’ll want to refresh your sense of the place.”

“He thinks like a cop,” she said to Feeney. “He hates when I say that, but what’re you going to do? Dudley said twenty, so he’ll be there in fifteen or sooner. I’ll need to hoof it in those bastards for a block, from the east, in case one of them’s watching for me. Dudley’s using,” she added. “His pupils were the size of dinner plates. Moriarity’s likely had a few hits, too.”

“Don’t think that makes them less dangerous,” Roarke said.

“No, I don’t. But it’s what’s making them careless, what’s pushing them as much—more, I guess, than the show we put on for them earlier.” She took the PPC from Roarke, studied it. “Okay, as we laid out when Baxter’s team reported the droid’s movements, we put men here and here.”

She looked at Peabody, got a nod. “Second team outside, covering the exits. I want them kept back until we know both subjects are inside, and I don’t want anybody breaking cover until I give that go. Clear?”

“Yes, sir. I’ll go in now, take this position. McNab—”

“I’ll take the other.”

Peabody started to speak, but subsided when she saw the look in Roarke’s eyes.

“All right. The two of you take the inside positions.” Eve would have offered Roarke her clutch piece but she knew damn well if Summerset had gotten the change of clothes for her, he’d have gotten a weapon to Roarke. She didn’t want to know how he’d gotten one through security.

“I want inside, Dallas.”

She glanced up at McNab as he maneuvered the van to the curb. He could irritate the hell out of her, but she trusted him to the bone. “You take position with Peabody. I’d better not hear any sex giggles.”

She tapped her ear. “Copy that. Dudley’s on the move. Stay where you are, Carmichael, until Moriarity makes his move. Give him room. Team A better get its asses to church.”

Roarke leaned to her, spoke with his lips against her ear. “Think twice before you let them put a single mark on you if you want them in one piece and conscious for your arrest.”

Before she could speak, he turned his head, pressed his lips firmly to hers. “Take care of my cop,” he told her, and jumped out the back after Peabody.

Eve reached for the shoes, met Feeney’s bland stare. “What?”

“I didn’t say a word. We got some body armor if you want it.”

“Makes me look fat,” she said and made him laugh.

“Wouldn’t help anyway if they try a head shot. Here.” He reached in one of the drawers, pulled out a bottle.

“Christ, Feeney, I’m not going to drink that, and I’m sure as hell not going to drink before I run this op.”

“You’re going to swish it around in your mouth and spit it out.” He held a glass out along with the bottle of Irish. “You want them to think you’re drunk enough to fall for this crap, walk into their half-assed trap? You should smell drunk.”

“Good point.”

She took it, swished it, and while swishing dabbed some on her throat like perfume to make him laugh again. Then spat. Leaning forward she huffed out an exaggerated breath in his face. “How’s that?”

“You’ll do. Are we having cow meat burgers tomorrow?”

“Probably.”

“I could go for a fat one. How about pie? Is there going to be pie?”

“I don’t know.”

“Lemon meringue pie. That’s what you want at a summer barbecue. Maybe strawberry shortcake.”

“I’ll get right on that—as soon as I avoid being murdered.”

“My granny used to make lemon meringue pie. It got these little beads of sugar on the meringue. She could bake a goddamn pie, my granny.”

“Yum. Dudley’s heading toward the church.” She rose, practiced pulling open the jacket, pulling her weapon. “That’ll work. All teams hold positions. Dallas, on the move.”

“You ought to wobble some, in case they get eyes on you.”

She stepped out the back. “That’s no problem in these shoes.”

“Good hunting.”

She shot him a grin as she shut the door.

She took her time, played her attitude in her head. She spotted her cops, but she knew where to look. She staggered into the church.

He’d lit some of the fake candles, she noted, so the light shifted and swayed. She took a couple more unsteady steps until she stood in the aisle formed by the back pews. “Dudley, you asshole.” Her voice echoed. “You better not be wasting my time.”

“I’m here.” His voice shook. She supposed he hoped it sounded fearful, but she caught the edge of laughter. “I—I wanted to be sure it was you. That he didn’t follow me.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you. I get paid to protect the city’s assholes.”

“It can’t be enough.” He eased out of the shadows at the far end of the church.

“You’re damn skippy. It’s not the pay, it’s the power. Nothing like watching suspects piss themselves when I lean on them. You got five minutes,” she said as Carmichael murmured in her ear that Moriarity was on his way.

“You can’t know what it means to me that you’d come like this. I know you’re under terrible pressure.”

“That’s what drinking’s for. And screw pressure. I close this one, I’ll be on-screen for weeks. Maybe get another book out of it. Couple of rich assholes like you and Moriarity, the media’s going to slather all over me.”

“Sly’s the one.” He moved toward her, stopped again. “I covered for him, but I didn’t know what he’d done. If I had . . . I didn’t know, not until tonight.”

“You’re eating up your five, Dudley. Lay it out or I’m going to haul you in for annoying an officer. Believe me, I’m not in the mood to haul your ass or mine down to Central.”

Moriarity at the door,
she heard in her ear, even as she caught the faint vibration from the ’link in Dudley’s pocket. He slid his hand in.

“Hey, hands where I can see them!” She reached clumsily in her bag.

“I’m sorry.” He tossed his hands up. “I’m nervous. I’m sick at heart. You have to help me!” He grabbed her wrists as if in desperation.

The door burst open behind her. She had to squelch her instinct to defend, staggered instead. Then felt the stunner press to her throat.

“Hold very still,” Moriarity ordered.

“Not yet, not yet!” Dudley shouted it. “Damn it, Sly. No cheating.”

“Just getting her attention.” He slid the stunner down to her shoulder.

It would take her down, Eve thought, but it wouldn’t kill her.

“What the hell kind of game is this?”

“Not a game, Lieutenant,” Dudley told her. “Games are for children. This is adventure. It’s competition. Drop that very attractive evening bag, or Sly will give you a very nasty jolt. Very nasty,” he repeated when she hesitated.

“Let’s all take it easy.” She let the bag drop.

“I wish we had more time.” Dudley walked down a few pews, bent down. “We’d hoped to have more time when we got to you. And we’d planned on using St. Pat’s. Wouldn’t that have been glorious?”

“It would’ve made a statement.” She felt Sly shift slightly. “This place? It’s nothing important.”

“It will be after this.” Dudley straightened, whipped the sword in the air. “We’ll have made it important.”

“What the hell is that?” Eve demanded.

“This.” Dudley struck a fencing pose, tore the air with the blade. “It’s a foil, you ignorant bitch. Italian, very old and very valuable. It’s the blade of an aristocrat.”

“You won’t get away with this. My partner knows where I am, who I was going to meet.”

“Lies won’t help. You’re so drunk you barely knew your own name when I talked you out of whatever bar you were in. And you came just like I told you to.”

“You killed them. All of them. Houston, Crampton, Delaflote, Jonas. Both of you, working together, just like I thought.”

“It wasn’t work,” Dudley corrected.

“It was pleasure.”

“We had another round planned before you, but . . .”

“I knew it!” Still playing the helpless drunk, she swayed a little in Moriarity’s hold. “The two of you conspired to kill four people.”

“In New York,” Dudley confirmed with a wide, wide grin. “But we’ve racked up more points elsewhere.”

“But why? Who were they to you?”

“Old nobodies, new luxuries.” Dudley laughed until he shook.

“Winnie, we have to get back.”

“You’re right. It’s a shame we can’t play with her awhile. It has to be at the same time, remember. At exactly the same time so the score stays tied. Your trigger, my blade. Let’s say on three.”

Moriarity leaned in, let his lips caress her ear. “Who’s the asshole now?” he said to Eve.

“That would be you.”