"Feeney, how nice to see you. Come in, please, have some coffee. Jack's just having his second cup in the kitchen."
"Sorry to disturb you at home, Anna. I need a few minutes of the commander's time."
"Of course. And how's Sheila?" she asked as she led the way down the hall toward the kitchen.
"She's fine."
"She looked just wonderful the last time I saw her. Her new stylist is terrific. Jack, you've got company for coffee." She breezed into the kitchen, caught the surprise, then the speculation in her husband's eyes. She knew enough to make a quick exit. "I'll let you two chat. I've got a million things to do this morning. Feeney, you give Sheila my best, now."
"I will. Thanks." He waited until the door swung closed, never taking his eyes off Whitney's. "Goddamn it, Jack."
"This should be discussed in my office, Feeney."
"I'm talking to you." Feeney jabbed a ringer. "To someone I've known twenty-five years. To someone who knew Frank. Why'd you cut me out of this? Why did you order Dallas to lie to me?"
"That was my decision, Feeney. The investigation had to be on a need-to-know basis."
"And I didn't need to know."
"No." Whitney folded his big hands. "You didn't need to know."
"Frank and I raised some of our kids together. Alice was my godchild. Frank and I rode as partners for five fucking years. Our wives are like sisters. Who the hell are you to decide I don't need to know he's being investigated?"
"Your commander," Whitney said shortly and pushed his still steaming coffee aside. "And the reasons you just stated are the very reasons I made the decision."
"You pushed me aside. You know damn well my division should have been involved. You needed records."
"Records were part of the problem," Whitney said evenly. "There was no record of a heart defect in his medical files, no record of a connection, personal or professional, between him and a known chemi-dealer."
"Frank had nothing to do with illegals."
"No records," Whitney continued. "And his closest friend is the best E-detective in the city."
Feeney's eyes went wide, and his color rose hot. "You think I wiped records? You had Dallas looking at me?"
"No, I didn't think you wiped records, but it wasn't something I could ignore with IAD breathing down my neck. Who would you have picked to do the work, Feeney?" Whitney demanded with an impatient gesture. "I knew that Lieutenant Dallas would be thorough and careful and that she'd bust her ass to clear both you and Frank. I knew she had – contacts – that could access those records."
Deluged by emotion, Feeney turned to stare out of the gleaming window into the backyard with its tidily mowed grass and majestic fall flowers. "You put her in a bad spot. You ordered her into a lousy position, Jack. Is that what happens when you command? You put your troops' backs to the wall?"
"Yeah, that's what happens." Whitney ran a hand over his dark, grizzled hair. "You do what needs to be done, and you live with it. I had IAD drooling. My priority was to clear Frank and shield his family from anymore hardship. Dallas was my best shot. You trained her, Feeney, you know she was my best shot."
"I trained her," Feeney agreed, sick inside.
"What would you have done?" Whitney demanded. "Straight, Feeney. You've got a dead cop who's been tagged buying illegals from a suspected dealer who's under surveillance. There were drugs in his system when he died. Your gut tells you no way, no way he was dirty. And maybe your heart's telling you, too, because you remember when you were both rookies. But IAD's got no gut, and it's got no heart. What would you have done?"
And because he'd had a sleepless night to think on it, to worry the steps, Feeney shook his head. "I don't know. But I know I don't want your job. Commander."
"You've got to be crazy to want this job." Whitney's wide face relaxed slightly. "Dallas has gone a long way to clearing Frank, and she took you out of it within the first twenty-four hours. She's hardly had more than a week on this, and she's already cleared a path. With her reports, I've been able to back IAD off. They're not happy about Frank setting up his own sting, but they've eased the pressure."
"That's good." Feeney dug his hands into his pockets as he turned back. "She's good. Christ, Jack, I hit her hard."
Whitney's brows knit. "You should have come to me. Going after her was off, Feeney. I gave the orders."
"I took it personal. I made it personal." He remembered how she'd looked at him, her face pale, her eyes blank. He'd seen people with that look before – victims, he thought now, who were used to taking a fist in the face. "I've got to fix it with her."
"She called in a couple minutes before you showed up. She's doing a follow-through on a new lead. At home."
Feeney jerked his head in a nod. "I'd like a couple hours personal time."
"You've got it."
"And I want in on this."
Whitney sat back, considered. "That'll be up to Dallas. She's primary. If we're opening this up, she chooses her own team."
– =O=-***-=O=-
"Answer the 'link, will you, Peabody?" Eve continued to scan the data on-screen as her 'link beeped insistently. It was a wonder to her how many names she recognized from the social, political, and professional registers. It was doubtful she'd have recognized quite so many a year before, but connecting with Roarke had broadened her horizons.
"Doctors, lawyers," she muttered. "Christ, this guy's been to dinner here. And I think Roarke used to sleep with this woman. This dancer. She's got a hit on Broadway and a mile of leg."
"It's Nadine," Peabody announced and wondered if Eve was talking to herself or really wanted to share that particular information. She hacked, sneezed, then added in her now raspy voice. "Furst."
"Perfect." Eve cleared the screen, just in case, and turned to the 'link. "So, Nadine, what's the story?"
"You're the story, Dallas. Two dead people. It's dangerous to know you."
"You're still breathing."
"So far, so good. I thought you might be interested in some data that's come my way. We can do a trade."
"Show me yours, maybe I'll show you mine."
"Exclusive one on one, in your home, with you discussing the investigation of both knifings, for the noon broadcast."
Eve didn't bother to snort. "One on one reporting the status of my investigation, in my office, for the evening broadcast."
"The first body was found at your house. I want in."
"It was found outside on the sidewalk, and you're not getting in."
Nadine huffed out a breath. The pout was for her own benefit. She knew better than to think it would budge Eve. "I want the noon."
Eve checked her watch, calculated, considered. "I'll clear you into my office. Arrival time eleven forty-five. If I can make it, I'll be there. If not…"
"Damn it, we need setup time. Fifteen minutes isn't – "
"It's enough, Nadine, for someone as good as you are. Be sure your data makes this worth my while."
"Make sure you don't look like a rag picker," Nadine shot back. "Do something with your hair, for God's sake."
Rather than respond, Eve ended transmission. "What is this obsession people have with my hair and wardrobe?" She raked a bad-tempered hand through the hair in question.
"Mavis told me you're overdue for a style session. Leonardo's bummed about it."
"You hanging with Mavis?"
"I've gone down to catch her act a couple times." She blew her nose heartily. Over-the-counters were pure crap, she decided. "I like watching her."
"I haven't had time for a style session," Eve muttered. "I trimmed it myself a couple days ago."
"Yeah, I could tell." At Eve's narrow look, Peabody smiled blandly. "It looks just lovely, sir."
"Kiss ass." Eve switched her screen back on. "And if you're finished with your critique of my personal appearance, maybe you'd like to run a few of these names."