He pressed his palms together, tapped his index fingers on his chin. “You assume you know me, Lieutenant.”
“I do know you, Commander.” She thought of what Peabody had said to her. “I have had the opportunity to study some of your work as a detective, as you moved up the ranks. I have studied and observed your methods and manner since I’ve served under you. I respect how you sit the chair.”
“Do you consider how you might do the same? How you might sit this chair one day?”
“That’s a terrifying thought.”
She made him laugh. He rose, walked to the AutoChef. And sighed. “Christ, I wish I had some of your coffee.”
“I can have some sent up.”
He shook his head, made do with what he had—then brought her a cup, once again reminding her of her earlier session with Peabody.
“Sit down, Dallas. Tibble will be here any minute, and IAB will be right behind him. We’re going to stick there, you and I, not only in your proprietary role in the Keener homicide, but in your integral role in the Oberman investigation. I believe Tibble will agree. If not, we’ll convince him.”
“Yes, sir, we will. Commander ... contact Nadine Furst.”
He lifted his eyebrows, said nothing.
“She will agree to and proceed by stipulations of timing, off-the-record statements, of confidentiality. She won’t release anything until you give her the green.”
“You want me to use her to spin this off me?”
“Not precisely, sir, no. Nadine likes to get her teeth in red meat as much as any reporter. She’s just better at seeing the real story—not just the jazz that pulls ratings. That’s why, I think, she pulls them. She digs for the truth, not just the juice. I know we have our PR people, media liaisons, mouthpieces, but in my opinion, she’s worth ten of them.”
He nodded slowly, watching her now. “Go on.”
“Sir. Renee Oberman’s actions will hurt the department once they become public. More, they’ll hurt the public as cage doors will certainly open. I see the value in using whatever is at our disposal to minimize that damage. With truth. Corruption existed. When uncovered it was ruthlessly, systematically, and unhesitatingly cut out.”
“I’ll consider it.”
“Sir . . .”
“You’re still in the speak freely zone, Dallas.”
“Go on her show. You, the chief if he’ll agree. Me, Peabody. Especially Peabody. The situation she was in, the actions she took, who she is, will play well.” Eve pushed, hard, surprising herself how fiercely she wanted to convince him. “A good cop—a young female detective trapped in a deadly situation—who turned that and spearheaded the exposure of corruption, of murder and treachery.
“We’re the blue line, sir, and that will resonate on-screen. But Peabody is the face, the very human element. And she would symbolize who we are, contrast sharply against what Renee Oberman is.”
He rubbed his chin, and his lips curved a little above his fingers. “You can carve out an angle like that, an excellent angle, and believe the idea of your ass in the chair someday down the road is terrifying?” He waved off her response before she could make it. “I should have thought of it myself, should have thought it through exactly that way. I’ll contact Furst.”
Something inside her unknotted. “Thank you, sir.”
“Don’t thank me. I’m wondering why I haven’t assigned you to Media and PR.”
“Because, sir, I hope I’ve done nothing to deserve that kind of punishment.”
Both he and Eve rose when Whitney’s admin announced Chief Tibble.
He was dark, long, and lean, and wore a suit well. A good look, Eve knew, for media conferences and screen time. But there was considerably more under the surface.
He studied Eve a moment, then addressed her directly. “This avalanche was precipitated by a dead junkie in a bathtub.”
“No, sir, this avalanche was precipitated by Renee Oberman’s corrupt and illegal use of her badge, her name, her rank, and this department.”
“Point well taken, and well expressed. But I wasn’t talking about the goddamn shit rolling down the goddamn hill, but what set off the roll.”
“That would be a dead junkie in a bathtub, sir—technically.”
“We’re going to use him, everything and everyone that came before and after him, to bury her in it. When we do, the department’s going to stand on top of that shit pile and claim victory. We’re going to work on that, Jack.”
“The lieutenant has just given me a solid suggestion on just that.”
“We’ll talk about it, after we’re done with IAB. We’ll talk about that, work on that, and we will goddamn deal with that because she’s not going to take any part of this department down with her. You take her down,” he said to Eve in a tone that told her he’d prefer to do it himself. With his bare hands.
“You take her down hard. Hard enough she can’t get up again. I don’t want her limping away from this, turning it so the department takes more hits.”
“That’s my intention, Chief Tibble.”
“Make it your mission in life,” he snapped, then turned to Whitney. “We’ll handle the fallout. Goddamn it, Jack, how the hell does a woman like this get rank, get power, get a free fucking pass?”
Before Whitney could speak, Tibble waved a hand in the air, spun away. He stalked to the window, stood staring out, his hands linked behind his back.
“I should know. I’ve had her in my office. I’ve entertained her along with her parents in my own home. My own home,” he said more quietly. “I’ve probably given her a few of those free passes myself. Goddamn it. Lieutenant Dallas, did Renee Oberman order the assassination of police officers?”
“I believe she did, sir.”
He whirled around, led with absolute fury. “I don’t want your beliefs. You prove it. You prove it so the PA can take it to a jury without a reasonable doubt. Your beliefs mean nothing in a court of law, and without—”
“Chief Tibble.” Whitney moved until he stood between Eve and the chief. “Renee Oberman is under my command, and her actions have taken place under my watch.”
“When I want you to throw yourself on your sword, I’ll tell you. This department can’t afford to lose you, and I’m damned if Renee Oberman will cause us to shed more blood. But I know it’s taken a Homicide lieutenant and a dead junkie to bring you and me, IAB, and God Himself into the light on this. That’s a hell of a thing.”
“Chief Tibble,” Eve began, “it was, in fact, my partner overhearing the damning conversation between—”
“Don’t interrupt me when I’m complimenting your work, Lieutenant, and blowing off steam I need to finish blowing off before dealing with IAB.”
“Sir.”
He pressed his fingers to his eyes briefly. “Your partner did well, Lieutenant, as did you. As have you, Commander. We’re going to make damn sure at the end of the day that outbalances a corrupt cop and a blemished squad.”
He stopped when IAB’s arrival was announced.
“Let’s go with pecking order, Jack. Let me take the wheel first. Lieutenant, have a seat.”
Apparently, Eve thought, the steam had blown as now Tibble stood, cool and contained, as Webster and his captain entered.
“Captain, Lieutenant. Be seated. Here,” he said when they had, “is how we want this to go.”
He laid it out concisely, reasonably, and in a tone that said this was already so. Eve admired the style, particularly since she’d just finished being singed by the furnace blast of his temper.
She would continue to head the investigation into Keener’s death, providing reports and data to IAB, who would, in turn, keep her apprised of all actions and progress in their internal investigations relating to Oberman.
There was debate, disagreement, but it was clear to Eve that Tibble had the controls. A good general, she thought, looks at the whole battlefield—and the ground beyond—then chooses where and how to fight.
“IAB’s investigation of Renee Oberman and the others involved with her remains essential, necessary, and will have every assist, every cooperation from my office, the commander’s, from Lieutenant Dallas and her people. But the murder of police officers, and civilians, outweighs even that.”