“Good thought. Run that. We brief at Central at sixteen hundred, at which time I’ll have selected the other members of the team to cover the memorial. We’ll rebrief—unless we have this fucker by then—at seven hundred tomorrow, full team. Now get out there and find this bastard. Baxter, one minute.”
She walked into the kitchen, came back with a bag, which she tossed to him.
When he looked inside his face beamed like the sun. “Holy shit, we got us some Alabama barbecue. I love this woman.”
“Save the love for Roarke. He dealt with it. Move out. Peabody, with me.”
Peabody waited until they were out of the house, in the car, and Eve sped down toward the gates. “Okay, I know we’re in deep investigative mode, and we have a lot of threads to tug, then tie together. But everyone has their specific thread or threads. I’ll be all over the retail outlets asap.”
“And?”
“And so, I thought we could take just a few minutes to talk about the wedding.”
“Louise has a handle on that. I know because I went by and talked to her about it. I did that duty.”
“You really did, and more. She filled me in, totally,” Peabody said with a happy gleam in her eyes. “Inviting her to stay Friday night, and have the rest of us was abso mag of you, Dallas.”
“It was a moment of weakness.” One Eve prayed she wouldn’t regret as she swung downtown. “What is, exactly, ‘the rest’?”
“You know, the usual. Me, Mavis, Nadine, Trina. Maybe Reo if she can make it,” she added, thinking of the APA. “And, ah, Trina’s bringing another consultant so we’ll all get beautified. But the best part is, we’ll all be there for Louise. With her. So I was wondering if we could set up a kind of bridal suite for her.”
“What does that mean? I’m not going to have her camp on the lawn. She’ll have a room. A suite. Whatever.”
“Yeah, yeah, but can we sort of bride it up? Flowers, champagne, candles—I’ve got some my cousin made that are really soothing—girl food, music. Set the mood.”
Eve said nothing for a moment. “I should have thought of that, right?”
“No. That’s what I’m here for. It’s all going to be mag, and this is just like a bonus round for her.”
“It’s fine. All fine.”
“Okay! I thought we could—”
“No, that was the few minutes. I want Jenkinson and Reineke on the memorial detail. Make sure they get the details on the time and place of the briefings. I’m going to ask MacMasters for recommendations on two of his detectives for that duty as well. And we’ll want half a dozen uniforms, at least half of them from MacMasters’s division.”
“Getting cops from MacMasters’s division’s a good move.”
“Any cop who can make it will be there anyway. I want that place covered, but we need to keep the watch for the suspect tight. The more cops who know his face, the better chance one of them will try for him, tip him off, or scare him off.”
“He has to know the place will be packed with cops there to pay respects. That might scare him off anyway.”
“I don’t think so.” Eve wormed through a gap between a maxibus and a Rapid Cab. “He’ll like it. Like the idea of being able to walk right in. Another needle in the eye. As far as he knows, we’ve got nothing.”
“After the media conference today . . .”
“He’ll still think we’ve got nothing.” Eve intended to make sure of it.
The minute she walked into Homicide, Eve smelled doughnuts. And thought: Nadine.
She gave the detectives and uniforms in the bullpen one long, steely stare, then strode to her office. As she expected, the star reporter sat in the visitor’s chair. Nadine sipped coffee, no doubt caged from Eve’s own AutoChef. She shot Eve a fluttery look out of amused green eyes, and fluffed her streaky blonde, always camera-ready hair.
“Nearly nine o’clock,” Nadine said, “late for you to be checking in.”
“Not too late for me to boot you out.”
“Come on, Dallas, I’ve laid back off the MacMasters story.” Amusement faded. “I’ve reported it, respectfully, and stuck with the statements from the department liaison. I know MacMasters. I work the crime beat. I’d hoped, for a lot of reasons, you’d be able to close this one quickly. That’s not happening.”
Eve stepped over to get coffee for herself. “There’s a media conference scheduled for noon.”