Treachery in Death (In Death 32)

Jimmy K’s eyes bulged. “No. Shit, no.”

“Shit, yes.”

“It was an accident, man. An accident, right?” he said, pleading, to Eve.

She was tired of good cop. “You went into Ochi’s Market, intending to rob, to destroy property, to cause intimidation and physical harm to the Ochis and whoever else might have been present. You went in carrying an illegal device you knew caused physical harm, and weighted bags fashioned into saps. You indeed did rob, did destroy property, and did cause physical harm by your own admission. Here’s what happens when a death incurs as a result of a crime or during the course of committing a crime. It bumps it up to murder.”

“Can’t be.”

“Oh,” Eve assured him, “it be.”

2

EVE LET PEABODY SET THE PACE. IT TOOK A BIT longer than it might have, but she couldn’t say the interviews weren’t thorough. At the end of the long process, three dangerous idiots were in cages, where she didn’t doubt they’d spend many decades of their idiot lives.

In her office, she gestured to her AutoChef. “I don’t have coffee,” she said, as if slightly puzzled. “When you correct that situation, you can get one for yourself.”

Peabody programmed two cups, handed one off.

“Good work,” Eve told her, tapped mugs.

“It was pretty much a slam dunk.”

“If it was it’s because you slammed it. You got details and information from a wit, combined that with the information I got from the vic’s wife, with what we observed and compiled from the scene.”

Eve sat, plopped her booted feet on her desk. “From there, you followed instinct and located the suspects, even though you could have left that part of it to the officers already on the lookout.”

Peabody lowered to the spindly visitor’s chair. “You’d have kicked my ass if I’d done that. Our case, our vic, our suspects.”

“You’re not wrong. You, correctly in my opinion, identified the weak sister and played him first, played him well, intimidating him into babbling out a confession, and relating specific details. Who did what, when, how. You got intent, and that was key. You understood to amp up the pressure and the heat on Slatter because he’s tougher than Rogan.”

“Mashed potatoes are tougher than Rogan, but don’t stop now. Please continue to tell me I’m a mag investigator.”

“You didn’t screw up,” Eve said, and made Peabody grin over her coffee regular. “You cooked Slatter because he was pissed enough at Rogan rolling—and knew Rogan had because you laid out the details—to try to roll harder on his pals. He figured since Rogan made the murder weapon, and Lowe had the bright idea to go to the market, Lowe used it on Ochi, he’d be something of an innocent bystander. You let him think it.”

“Yeah. You led him there with the helpful good cop. A mag investigator has to utilize teamwork.”

“You’ve got a few more minutes to milk it,” Eve decided.

“Yay. We worked Lowe like a draft horse.”

“If you say so. It was smart to go with the sneering, it’s already in the bag, asshole, angle. Sarcasm and ugly amusement instead of threats and intimidation. He has almost half a brain and may have lawyered up if you’d gone with the heat. The cold worked on him.”

“I think, on some level, he knew Ochi was dead when he ran out of the market, and on some level he pressed that device to the old guy’s heart because he knew it would do serious damage.”

Not only instinct, not only teamwork, Eve thought, but insight was an important tool of the mag investigator.

And so was practicality.

“I don’t disagree, but we were never going to get them on Murder One. You got what we could get, and adding the assault on police officers—the attempt on you by Lowe, they’re sewed, Peabody. They’ll be in a cage longer than they’ve been alive. Mrs. Ochi won’t get her husband back, but when you contact her she’ll know the people responsible for it are already starting to pay.”

“I think you should tell her. You talked to her—she knows you—and it would probably mean more if you told her we’ve got them.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll contact the wit.” Peabody blew out a breath. “I liked being bad cop—a lot actually. But ... it kind of gave me a headache.”

“Because it’s not natural for you. Your natural technique is to finesse, to relate and use that to cause the suspect to relate to you. It’s a good trait, Peabody. You can pull out the whoop-ass when you need to, but you’re better with the grease. Now write it up.”