"No, sir, I did not. Nor did Captain Feeney elect to rescind Detective McNab's. We have Avril Icove on house restriction. The trail is currently cold as pertains to Deena Flavia. Brookhollow is secured, and this investigation is on the point of being passed to federal jurisdiction. It may not be feasible to make that pass comprehensively before Monday. What can be done from this point to that, sir, I can handle myself. It seemed unnecessary and unfair to cancel Peabody's leave."
She waited a moment, but he didn't speak. "Do you want me to have her and McNab called in, Commander?"
"No. As you point out, the government's damn near shut down for the holiday already. We're moving to a skeleton staff administratively this afternoon at Central. You've identified the perpetrators of the homicides under your investigation, and have ascertained the method and the motive. The PA has chosen not to charge one of these perpetrators. And in all likelihood will choose the same if and when Deena Flavia is apprehended. Essentially, Lieutenant, your case is closed."
"Yes, sir."
"I suggest you go home, enjoy the holiday."
"Thank you, sir."
"Dallas," he said as she started out. "If you had to take a wild guess, off the record, just a guess, when would you say Nadine Furst is going to break the story?"
"If I had to guess, sir, off the record, I'd say that Channel 75's going to have a hotter story than the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade."
"That would be my guess, too. Dismissed."
THE TRAFFIC WAS MEAN AS A CONSTIPATED LION.
New Yorkers, sprung from work early, were out to battle their way home to prepare for the holiday, where they'd give thanks for not having to battle their way to work. Tourists foolish enough to come to the city to see the parade-when, Eve thought, they should stay the hell home and watch it on-screen- thronged the streets, sidewalks, and air.
Street thieves were rolling in the easy pickings.
Tour blimps were doing extra duty, blasting out the highlights and landmarks as they lumbered along, bloating the sky and blocking the commuter trams. And thereby, Eve thought, stalling and inconveniencing the people who actually lived here who wanted to get home to prepare for the holiday, and blah blah.
Billboards flashed and sparkled and sang brightly of the sales that would lure the certifiably insane into the hell-world of the city stores and outlying malls before their turkey dinners had been fully digested.
Crosswalks, people glides, sidewalks, and maxibuses were so mobbed she wondered if there was anyone left outside the borough.
The number of kids on airskates, airboards, zip bikes, and city scoots told her school was out, too.
There ought to be a law.
The street hawkers were doing brisk business selling their designer knockoff everything, their gray-market electronics, their wrist units that would keep time just long enough for the hawker to complete the sale, change location, and melt into the city fabric.
Let the buyer damn well beware, Eve thought.
She was stopped at a red when a Rapid Cab in the next lane attempted a maneuver and clipped the rental sedan behind Eve.
She let out a sigh, pulled out her communicator to inform Traffic. Her intention to let her involvement end there was quashed when the sedan's driver leaped out, began to screech and pound her fists on the cab's hood.
That brought the cabbie out, and just her luck, another woman. That had the pushy-shovey starting immediately.
Horns blasted, shouts raged, and a number of sidewalk onlookers began to cheer and choose sides.
She actually saw a glide-cart operator start making book. What a town.
"Hold it, hold it, hold it!"
Both women swung around at Eve's shout, and the driver of the sedan grabbed what Eve identified as a panic button, worn on an ornamental chain around her neck.
"Wait!" Eve snapped, but was blasted by the ear-splitting scream.
"I know what this is, I know what you're doing!" The woman blasted the button again and had Eve's eyes watering. "I know the kind of scams you run in this godforsaken city. You think because we're from Minnesota we don't know what's what? Police! Police!"
"I am the-"
She carried a handbag the size of her home state and swung it like a batter aiming for the fences. It caught Eve full in the face, and considering the stars that exploded in her head, must have been filled with rocks from her home state.