He doesn’t like her, Eve realized, and wondered if that made his part of the situation easier or more difficult.
“All that said,” he continued, “we have an explosive situation, with the fuse already lit.” He glanced over as Roarke stepped into the room.
“Jack,” Roarke said with a nod.
“At this time only the five people in this room are aware of this situation. Correct?”
“Yes, sir,” Eve agreed. “At this time.”
“Show me the body. More detail.”
“Monitor on-screen,” Eve ordered, and the image flashed.
Whitney sat back, studied. “You chose not to establish TOD or secure any evidence.”
“ID only, Commander. My thoughts were—”
“I know what your thoughts were,” he interrupted. “Run the record, start to finish, on this location.”
Eve followed orders, her face impassive as it played on-screen. Her recorder caught part of the scuffle between Roarke and the street thug.
“Prime move!” McNab’s enthusiasm got the better of him. “Sorry, sir.”
“No need. It was a prime move.” Whitney nodded at Roarke. “Did you break that elbow?”
“Dislocated, I think.”
“Sometimes I miss the streets.” The record moved inside, into the filth. “Sometimes I don’t.”
He lapsed into silence, watching the rest. When it was done, the silence remained for several moments. “I’ll review the rest, but assuming it’s as you’ve already related to me, what’s your next move? You have a next move, Dallas,” he added. “You’ve had enough time to calculate several next moves.”
“My first priority would be to officially discover the body and take the investigation. Through a tip from one of my CIs, or we’ll run it so the record she sees plays that out. I believe that’s less complicated and could be more useful than standard channels. She won’t know who contacted me, and I’ll have no obligation to inform her. In fact, it would be standard for me to protect my own weasel. She believes Keener’s death will be seen and treated as an accidental OD. It won’t be. I’ll hard-line it, give her something to worry about. Or just be pissed off about. I’ll be in her face, and by doing so will have the opportunity to observe her, her squad.”
“How many of them are in this?” Whitney nodded. “It’s not just Garnet.”
“No, sir, that would be unlikely. Concurrent to that would be the Internal Affairs investigation. With your permission, sir, I would inform and fully brief Lieutenant Webster. I’ve worked with him before, and he knows Peabody. That connection would save time and should streamline the process.”
“And you believe you can convince him you and your team need to play an active role, not just in the homicide but in the internal investigation?”
“There wouldn’t be an internal investigation without Peabody, and it’s very likely Keener’s death would have been put down as an OD.”
“You don’t have to convince me. I’ll also speak to Lieutenant Webster.”
“I also need to inform and brief Doctor Mira. Her insights, opinions, and evaluations would be essential.”
“Yes, agreed.”
“And I need Feeney. I need EDD.”
“IAB has its own e-men.”
“We need ours. McNab is already in this, and his captain should be apprised. Every meet I have with Renee Oberman should, when possible, be on record. IAB will shadow her, sir, but if she’s got any instincts it won’t take long for her to smell rats. She hasn’t gotten this far without good instincts, without taking precautions.”
“Feeney and Mira. Your part of this investigation will have to be run, for the most part, from this location. We don’t know how far her tentacles reach through the department. Through my house.” Whitney looked at Roarke again. “Yours just became primary HQ.”
“Apparently.”
“You’re a tolerant man.”
“Not altogether. I have had, you could say, some experience with cops such as Lieutenant Oberman. If using my house helps remove her from yours, my door’s open.”
Whitney nodded, got to his feet. His gaze swept over everyone in the room. “Let’s take the bitch down.”
When the briefing concluded, Eve turned to Roarke. “I need that weasel tip, and it needs to look legit in case Renee manages to get her hands on the log.”
“I can do that, but I need just one moment of your time first.” He stepped back into his office.
“I’m really on the clock here,” she began.
“Understood, and you’ll have your tip come in—transferred to your ’link from your office unit—asap. I wanted to tell you I’ve just spoken with Darcia—Chief Angelo, Olympus.”
“Okay.”
“She’s on planet, on holiday. We had a meeting scheduled for next week before her return, but she’s come to New York early. She’d like to see Cop Central, and you.”
“I’m a little pressed right now.”
“And I could hardly tell her you’re busy launching an investigation on a ring of dirty cops, could I?”
Eve shoved her hands in her pockets. “No. Guess not.”
“Her main plan is to have a longer holiday in New York. I’ll meet with her, take her to lunch or for drinks. But it’s natural for her to want a look at your house, and to reconnect with you. You did work together, and well enough, during our little interlude on Olympus.”
“Yeah, yeah. Okay.” She considered, weighed, then nodded. “Maybe I can use it to my advantage. Once this rolls nobody who’s sniffing is going to think I’d be spending time giving tours and having a girl-cop chat if I were tied into an internal investigation.”
“I imagine, when it’s all said and done, she’ll be pleased to have been useful. I’ll take care of the tip. Five minutes.”
“Good enough.” She walked back into her office. “We’ll have the tip in five,” she told Peabody. “I’ll tag you on your ’link, tell you I’m swinging by to pick you up at your place to follow up on the tip. Could be nothing, so we won’t inform Dispatch as yet. McNab, you need to get yourself to Central by your usual means. By the time you do, Whitney will have briefed Feeney. I want filters on all our electronics. Something that will not only show if anyone attempts a hack, but prevent one.”
“We can do that,” McNab assured her. “I’d go to the bank that Roarke already has filters and shields on everything in here. A couple minutes in Roarke’s comp lab, and I can fix your pocket ’link, and Peabody’s.”
“We’ll get to that after the tip. Speaking of which,” she said when hers signaled. “He’s fast, you have to give it to him.” She held up a finger for silence. “Dallas.”
“Don’t use my name! Got me?” The voice was garbled, panty, and would never be mistaken for Roarke’s.
“I got you.”
“Somebody did him. Old Juicy. Did him bad, man, left him swimming in puke.”
“Who’s Juicy?”
“Juicy’d never pop heavy, man. They did him. The ones he was scared of. Fucker’s dead.”
“You’re stoned, you asshole. Don’t waste my time.”
“Got stoned for Juicy. You gotta get him, Dallas, see? It ain’t right. Stuffed him in the fucking tub. I ain’t just doing weasel for you, Dallas. It’s for Juicy.”
The record would show her scowl, replay the warning in her voice. “Give me where, but if I don’t find a body, I’m hunting you down and kicking your ass.”
“You find him.” The voice mumbled out an address. “Poor old Juicy. You get me my twenty, right? I get my twenty.”
“If I find a body, you get your twenty. If I don’t, better find a hole.” She clicked off, then walked to the door connecting her office with Roarke’s. “How did you do that?”
“Oh, just a little voice-exchange program I’ve been working on. I used a blend of two actors in a couple of drug vids.” He grinned, showing her he’d enjoyed himself. “Interesting, isn’t it?”
“Hmm. You’re up, Peabody,” Eve said, and moved to step two.