“Yeah, I heard that. Maybe you should be in bed.”
“I’m in bed, the wife’s on me like white on tofu, how she told me I shoulda worn the muffler, and how she didn’t give me those nice earmuffs for Christmas. Damn things make me look like I got a couple of red rats coming out of my ears. She’ll want to be pouring Christ knows what into me.”
He hacked, sneezed, cursed. And Eve eased back another few inches.
“Plus, she’s been taking some godforsaken class on alternative medicine, and has it in her head colonics are the cure for every damn thing. You think I want a colonic?”
“I really don’t.”
He blew his nose heroically. “You want a rundown on the Sanders electronics.”
“Anders.” She could almost see the microscopic germs dancing and mating gleefully in the air around him. “Feeney, you gotta go home.”
“I’m going to ride it out. Got inhalers, and decongestants. Don’t work for shit, but I got them. I get a brain tumor, they can fix it, no problem. I get a lousy germ, and they got nothing.”
“Blows, but-”
“Come on in, I’ll bring up the file.”
She studied him, her trainer, her mentor, her longtime partner. He was, in every way that counted, a father. And she thought of the gleeful germs banging each other all over the office. “Ah, actually, I’ve got to get back down. I forgot something.”
“This’ll only take a minute.”
“Feeney, I’m not coming in there, I’m not taking one step closer without a hazmat suit. You’re dog sick, you’re contagious, I can actually see your germs flying around in the air having a party. You need to go home.”
He lowered his head to the desk. “Stun me, will you, kid? I’m too weak to pull my own weapon and do it myself.”
“Shit.” She glanced back, saw McNab’s cube was empty. Figured. “You.” She jabbed a finger at the closest live body, even if it was clad in a banana yellow skin-suit with knee-high purple airboots. “Your captain needs transportation home. Now. Arrange it. Who’s next in rank?”
“Ummmm.”
“Jesus. Get the transpo. I want a vehicle ready to go, and an officer at the elevator door of the garage, this sector, ground level, by the time I get there. If it’s not-who are you?”
“Um, Detective Letterman.”
“If it’s not, Detective Letterman, I’m coming back up here and peeling you like the banana you resemble. Clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then do it!” Eve took several deep breaths, like a diver preparing to go under, then holding it, went into the red zone. She grabbed Feeney’s coat, his hat, his scarf. “Come on, get these on.”
“Wanna die at my desk,” he whimpered, “not in bed like an old man.”
“Jesus, stop being a baby. You’re not going to die. Get your coat on. Don’t breathe on me. Wear the hat. What the hell’s wrong with you coming in today?”
His glassy eyes rolled up to hers. “You’re turning into a woman on me, fussing and nagging.”
Insulted, she yanked the hat down over his ears herself. “Watch it, pal, or I’ll deck you and have a couple of your fruit baskets out there cart you out.”
“That’s better.” He braced a hand on the desk. “You know, Dallas, I think I’m pretty fucking sick.”
“That’s the smartest thing you’ve said since I got here. Let’s go.” She put an arm around his waist, led him out. In the squad room, one glare cut off any questions or comments. “Call Maintenance,” she ordered as she hauled Feeney out. “Have them disinfect that office.”
“Sanders,” Feeney wheezed.
“Anders,” she corrected and called for the elevator.
“Remote was a slick one. Custom.”
“Okay.” When the elevator doors opened, occupants took one look at Feeney. The protests rang out immediately. “Make room or get the hell off.” People scattered, deserted the ship as she pulled Feeney on. “Garage,” she ordered, “ground level.”
“Shut it down, booted it up the same way,” Feeney continued. “No tampering with the locks. Knew the code or had a clone. Can’t find any indication of cloning. Have to be slick, too.”
“Okay.” How long did it take to get to the damn garage? How soon after breeding did germs give birth to new ones?
“Nothing on the house ’links looks hinky. Got a list of ’em in the report.”
“Yeah.”
“Pocket ’link either. Office ’links. Going back another week on the lot, but nothing popping.”
“I got it, Feeney.”
“Nothing popping on his comps either.” He slumped against Eve like a drunk. “Guy had a million of ’em, so it’s taking a while. Personals don’t show anything off.”
“You get to the wife’s yet?”
“Whose wife?”
“Never mind.” When the doors opened, a burly, hard-eyed uniform stepped forward. Letterman, she thought, could live.
“Captain Feeney?”
“Right here. Where’s your ride?”
He gestured to a black-and-white. “Let me give you a hand. Poor bastard looks pretty sick.”
“What’s the closest health center?” she asked as between them they maneuvered Feeney into the backseat where he simply sprawled out facedown.
“Got a walk-in clinic on Broadway and Eighteen.”
“Take him there.”
“Aw, Dallas,” Feeney mumbled.
“Stay with him,” Eve continued. “I’ll contact his wife. When she gets there, if she wants you to stay, you stay.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Name?”
“Klink.”
“Take care of him, Officer Klink.”
She slammed the door, stepped back. And watching Klink drive Feeney away wondered if she had time for a detox session.
She settled for scrubbing her hands as if her next task were to perform surgery. And tagging Feeney’s wife on the move, made her way back to her own division to track down McNab. She had visions of EDD throwing an orgy of biblical proportions without Feeney in command. Just as she was about to try for McNab, she swung into her own bullpen and saw him.
His back was to her, but there was no mistaking Ian McNab. Who else had that skinny build, the long tail of blond hair flopping down the back of a shirt that resembled the view through a kaleidoscope? And who else would have his flat ass on her partner’s desk?
“McNab, get your pitiful excuse for an ass off Peabody’s desk and into my office.”
She didn’t bother to wait to see if he obeyed. She didn’t doubt he would, or that he’d slip Peabody a little pinch or tickle before he did. Some things she didn’t need to witness.
By the time she got coffee, he was bouncing into her office. “Hey, Dallas, I just came down to-”
“Who’s the ranking officer under Feeney?”
“Ah, that would be…yeah, that would probably be DS Reedway. Why?”
“I just had Feeney hauled off to the health center. His-”
“Jeez.” MacNab’s soft green eyes clouded with worry. “Is he that bad? He looked rough this morning.”
“Bad enough. Inform your Detective Sergeant that your captain’s out sick. If he needs any information or assistance, he can contact me.”
“She. DS Melodie Reedway.”
“A cop named Melodie. It’s just not right.” She waved that off. “If your ranking officer has no objections, I’d like you as primary e-man on the Anders investigation. You’re annoying, but at least I know what to expect from you.”
He grinned at her. “I’ve been working it. I came down to give you an update.”
“Feeney just gave me one on the way down to transpo-or partially. Have you started on the wife’s electronics?”
“We focused on the vic’s first, and he has serious boatloads. Fairly iced. Guy liked UTD-up-to-date,” he translated when Eve frowned. “I can shift over to the wife’s if you want. Anything special I’d be looking for?”
“Yeah, her having a conversation with the killer would be nice. You know the particulars of the case, you’re a detective. You’ll know when you see or hear it. Get back up there, McNab.”