The In Death Collection 06-10 (81 page)

When the ’link beeped, she finished buttoning her shirt, scooped up her coffee, and answered.

“Dallas.”

Dispatch, Dallas, Lieutenant Eve. Report to Sleeper Village, Bowery. Reported homicide, Priority One. Uniforms on scene.

“Notify Peabody, Officer Delia. I’ll pick her up en route. I’m on my way. Dallas
out.” She broke transmission, exchanged her coffee for her weapon harness. “Goddamn it. He got another
one.” Her eyes were flat and cold as she looked at Roarke. “He wanted it on my watch. He’s made it
personal.”

“Watch your back, Lieutenant,” Roarke ordered as she strode out. Then he shook his head.
“It’s always personal,” he murmured.

It didn’t lift her mood to see the uniforms on scene were Bowers and Trueheart. She fought her way
to the curb on the streets that were lumpy and slick with snow. Then gave herself time for one long breath.

“If I look like I’m going to deck her . . .”

“Yes sir?”

“Let me,” Eve snapped and pushed out of the car. Her boots sank into the snow, and she
kept her eyes on Bowers as she plowed through it. The sky overhead was as hard and cold as her heart.

“Officer Bowers. Your report?”

“Subject female, undetermined age and identity.” Out of the corner of her eye, Eve saw
Trueheart open his mouth, then shut it again.

“We found her in her crib, as with victim Snooks.
However, there is
considerable blood in this case. As I am not a medical technician, I cannot verify which piece of her was removed, if
any.”

Eve scanned the area. Saw that this time there were more than a dozen faces, pale, thin, with dead eyes
staring over the line of police sensors.

“Have you questioned any of these people?”

“No.”

“Do so,” she ordered, then turned to start toward the crib that had been marked with
blipping police sensors.

Bowers jerked her head at Trueheart, sending him on his way, but fell into step beside Eve.
“I’ve already filed another complaint.”

“Officer Bowers, this is not the time or place to discuss interdepartmental business.”

“You’re not going to get away with calling me at home, threatening me. You stepped way
over, Dallas.”

Both baffled and irritated, Eve stopped long enough to study Bowers’s face. There was anger, yes,
and resentment, but there was also a sticky kind of smugness in her eyes. “Bowers, I didn’t contact you at home or
anywhere else. And I don’t make threats.”

“I’ve got my ’link log as evidence.”

“Fine.” But when Eve started forward again, Bowers grabbed her arm. Eve’s hand
curled into a fist, but she managed to keep it from ramming into Bowers’s face. “Officer, we are on record, and you
are interfering with my investigation of a reported homicide. Step back.”

“I want it on record.” Bowers shot a glance at the lapel recorder on Peabody’s
uniform. Excitement was pumping through her, and the control was slipping greasily out of her hands. “I want it on record that
I’ve gone through proper official channels to report your conduct. And that if appropriate action isn’t taken by the
department against you, I’ll exercise my right to file suit against both you and the department.”

“So noted, Officer. Now, step back before I start exercising my rights.”

“You want to take a swing at me, don’t you?” Her
eyes
glittered, her breath began to heave. “That’s how your type handles things.”

“Oh, yeah, I’d love to kick your arrogant ass, Bowers. But I have something a little more
pressing to do at the moment. And since you refuse to follow orders, you are relieved of duty as of this moment. I want you off my
crime scene.”

“It’s my crime scene. I was first on scene.”

“You’ve been relieved, Officer.” Eve jerked her arm free, took two steps, then
swung around, teeth bared, as Bowers made another grab. “You lay hands on me again, and I’ll kick your face in, then
I’ll have my aide place you under arrest for interfering with an investigation. We’ve got a personal problem here, fine
and dandy. We can handle it later. You can pick the time and place. But it won’t be here; it won’t be now. Get the
fuck off-scene, Bowers.”

She waited a beat, straining to hold her own snapping temper in check. “Peabody, notify
Bowers’s lieutenant that she has been relieved and ordered from the scene. Request another uniform to be sent to our location
to assist Officer Trueheart in crowd control.”

“I go, he goes.”

“Bowers, if you are not behind the sensors in thirty seconds, you will be put in restraints and
charged.” Not trusting herself, Eve turned away. “Peabody, escort Officer Bowers back to her vehicle.”

“My pleasure, sir. Horizontal or vertical, Bowers?” she said pleasantly.

“I’m going to take her down.” Bowers’s voice shook with rage.
“And you’re going with her.” Already composing her follow-up complaint, Bowers stomped through the
snow.

“You all right, Dallas?”

“I’d be better if I could’ve pounded on her a while.” Eve hissed a breath out
through her teeth. “But she wasted enough of our time. Let’s do our job.”

She approached the crib, crouched, pulled back the tattered plastic that served as a doorway.

Blood, rivers of it, had spilled, pooled, congealed. Reaching into her field kit, Eve took out Seal-It.
“Victim is female, black, age between ninety and one ten. Visible wound in abdomen appears to be cause of death. Victim has
bled out. There are no apparent signs of struggle or sexual abuse.”

Eve inched into the crib, ignoring the blood that stained the tips of her boots. “Notify the ME,
Peabody. I need Morris. At a guess, I’d say her liver’s gone. Jesus, but he wasn’t worried about being neat
this time. The edges of the wound are straight and clean,” she added after she fixed on microgoggles, bent closer. “But
there is no clamping as evidenced on other victims. No sealing to prevent bleeding.”

She was still wearing her shoes, Eve noted, the hard, black slip-ons many of the city’s shelters
handed out to the homeless. There was a miniplayer beside the thin mattress and a full bottle of street brew.

“No robbery,” she murmured and continued to work. “Time of death, calculating
lowest ambient temperature is established on scene at oh two-thirty.” She reached out, found an expired beggar’s
license.

“Victim is identified as Jilessa Brown, age ninety-eight, of no fixed address.”

“Lieutenant, can you move your left shoulder? I need to give a full body shot for
record.”

Eve shifted to the right, eased in another inch, and felt her boot scrape something under the pool of blood.
Reaching down, she closed her sealed fingers over a small object. And drew out a gold pin.

The coiled snakes of the caduceus ran with blood.

“Look what we have here,” she murmured. “Peabody, on record. A gold lapel pin,
catch apparently broken, was found near the victim’s right hip. Pin is identified as a caduceus, a symbol of the medical
profession.”

She sealed it, slipped it into her bag. “He was very, very sloppy this time. Angry? Careless? Or just
in a hurry?” She moved back, let the plastic fall back into place. “Let’s see what Trueheart
knows.”

• • •

Eve wiped the blood and sealant from her hands as Trueheart reported. “Mostly they called her
Honey. She was well liked, kind of motherly. No one I’ve spoken with saw anything last night. It was rough out here, really
cold. The snow finally stopped about midnight, but the winds were vicious; that’s why we’ve got all these
drifts.”

“And why we’ll never get any casts worth a damn.” She looked at the trampled
ground. “We’ll find out what we can about her. Trueheart, it’s up to you, but if I were in your shoes,
I’d request another trainer when I got back to your station. When the dust clears some, I’m going to recommend your
transfer to Central, unless you have other ideas.”

“Sir. No. I’m very grateful.”

“Don’t be. They work your butt off at Central.” She turned away. “Peabody,
let’s go by Canal Street before we head in. I’d like to see if Jilessa Brown was a patient there.”

Louise was out in the medi-van doing on-site treatments for frostbite and exposure. Her replacement in the
clinic looked young enough to have still been playing doctor in the backseat of a souped-up street buggy with the prom queen.

But he told her that Jilessa Brown was not only a patient, but a favorite at the clinic. A regular, Eve mused as
she fought traffic and clogged streets on her way to Central. One who’d come in at least once a week just to sit and talk with
others in the waiting room, to charm some of the lolly-tape the doctors kept in a jar for children.

She’d been, according to the doctor, a sociable woman with a sweet tooth and a mental defect that
had gone untreated during her prime. It had left her speech slurred and her mental capacity on level with an eight-year-old.

She’d been harmless. And she’d been receiving treatments over the last six months for
cancer of the liver, advanced stage.

There had been some hope for remission, if not reversal.

Now there would be neither.

Her message light was glowing when she stepped into her office, but she ignored it and tagged Feeney.

“I’ve got another one.”

“So I hear. Word travels.”

“There was a lapel pin at the scene—it’s this medical symbol. I took it by the lab, sat
on Dickhead until he verified it was gold. The real thing. Can you run it for me? See if you can find out who sells them?”

“Will do. You talked to McNab?”

“Not yet.” Her stomach hitched. “Why?”

He sighed, and paper rattled as he reached into his bag for his favored almonds. “London, six
months ago. Funky-junkie found in his flop. He’d cooked for a few days before they found him. Kidneys were
missing.”

“That’s what we had with Spindler, but this scene was a mess. Blood everywhere. He was
either in a hurry, or he doesn’t care anymore. I’ll tag McNab and get the details.”

“He’s on his way over there. Send the pin back with him, and I’ll run
it.”

“Thanks.” Her ’link beeped incoming the minute she ended transmission.
“Dallas.”

“I need you in my office, Lieutenant. Now.”

Bowers was all Eve could think, but nodded briskly. “Yes, Commander. On my way.”

She hailed Peabody on her way out. “McNab’s on his way over with details on a potential
victim in London. Work with him on it. Use my office.”

“Yes, sir, but—” She broke off, and decided not to be undignified and complain to
her lieutenant’s back. “Hell.” Prepared to spend an irritating hour or so, Peabody gathered her things and
hurried toward Eve’s office. She wanted to get there before McNab claimed the desk.

Whitney didn’t keep Eve waiting but cleared her straight through. He was at his desk, his hands
folded, his
eyes neutral. “Lieutenant, you had another altercation with Officer Bowers.”

“Yes, sir. On record at the scene this morning.” Goddamn it, Eve thought, she hated this. It
was like playing tattletale with the school principal. “She became difficult and insubordinate. She laid hands on me and was
ordered off scene.”

He nodded. “You couldn’t have handled it differently?”

Biting back a retort, Eve reached into her bag and pulled out a disc. “Sir, this is a copy of the record
from the crime scene. You look at it, then tell me if I could or should have handled it differently.”

“Sit down, Dallas.”

“Sir, if I’m to be reprimanded for doing my job, I prefer to be reprimanded while
I’m on my feet.”

“I don’t believe I have reprimanded you, Lieutenant.” He spoke mildly, but he rose
himself. “Bowers had already filed another complaint before this morning’s little incident. She claims that you
contacted her at home Saturday evening and threatened her with physical harm.”

“Commander, I have not contacted Bowers at home or anywhere else.” It was difficult, but
she kept her eyes flat and her voice cool. “If and when I have threatened her—after provocation—it’s
been face to face, and on record.”

“She’s introduced a copy of a ’link log, on which the caller identifies herself as
you.”

Eve’s eyes chilled. “My voice print is on record. I request that it be compared with the print
from the ’link log.”

“Good. Dallas, sit down. Please.”

He watched her struggle, then sit stiffly. “I have no doubt the prints won’t match. Just as I
have no doubt that Bowers will continue to make trouble for you. I want to assure you that the department will handle this, and
her.”

“Permission to speak frankly?”

“Of course.”

“She shouldn’t be on the street, she shouldn’t be in
uniform.
She’s dangerous, Commander. That’s not a personal jab, it’s a professional opinion.”

“And one I tend to agree with, but it’s not always as simple as it should be. Which brings
me to another issue. The mayor contacted me over the weekend. It appears he was contacted by Senator Brian Waylan with a request
that the investigations, over which you are primary, be reassigned.”

“Who the hell is Waylan?” Eve was on her feet again. “What’s some overfed
politician have to do with my case?”

“Waylan is a staunch supporter of the American Medical Association. His son is a doctor and on
staff at the Nordick Center in Chicago. It’s his belief that your investigation, and the resultant media, has impinged the medical
community. That it may start a panic. The AMA is concerned and willing to fund its own, private investigation into these
matters.”

“I’m sure they would, as it’s clear it’s one of their own who’s killing
people. This is my case, Commander. I intend to close it.”

“It’s likely that you’ll get little cooperation from the medical community from this
point on,” Whitney continued. “It’s also likely that there will be some political pressure brought to bear against
the department to shift the nature of the investigation.”

He indulged himself briefly with the faintest of scowls, then his face slipped back into neutral. “I
want you to close this case, Dallas, and quickly. I don’t want you distracted by a personal . . .
irritant,” he decided. “And so I’m asking you to let the department handle the Bowers situation.”