Treachery in Death (In Death 32)

“What the hell,” Eve decided. “Incoming ’link transmission on wall screen.” She glanced over, saw Peabody grin.

“Thanks.”

She saw Renee first, behind the wheel, fingers tapping, shoulders swaying to the beat of the music she’d selected.

“Likes her new ride,” Eve murmured. “Nice upgrade.”

When Renee’s ’link signaled, she cut her eyes down—dash screen readout, Eve concluded. Her face went hard. “Goddamn it. Transfer transmission to pocket ’link two.” She snatched it up, shoved it into its on-dash slot. “Garnet.”

The angle blocked the pocket ’link’s screen, but his voice came through loud and clear.

“You said you were going to fix it. Fuck this, Oberman. I’m not taking a thirty-day rip from that cunt because you can’t figure out how to slap her down.”

“Calm down. And don’t contact me about this or anything else unless it’s on the safe ’link. You know how I feel about that.”

“I’ll calm down when you do what you’re supposed to do. You’d better have my back on this.”

“Bill, I went directly to Whitney on your behalf. I explained the situation, that in my view it was simply a heated exchange between you and the lieutenant. That you were, very understandably, protecting an investigation you’ve put considerable man-hours, considered effort into—and which is at a tipping point. I went to bat for you, Bill, just as I said I would. And because I did, Whitney called her up. She won’t budge.”

“I’ll budge the fucking whore.”

“You listen to me. You listen to me,” Renee said with a whip in her voice. “I’ll handle her. I’m going to try another approach. You stay clear, do you read me? If you have to take this rip, I’ll make it up to you. Jesus, Garnet, if it sticks, look at it like a month’s vacation. Go to the beach. You know how you love the beach.”

“Fuck that, and fuck you if you think I’m going to let this cut me out of the Geraldi deal.”

“Nobody’s cutting you out of anything. If you’d get yourself under some damn control we wouldn’t be in this situation.”

The tone shook with anger, accusation. Not, Eve thought, the right way to handle a man whose fuse was already lit and running.

“Goddamn Dallas wouldn’t be in your face, or mine, if you hadn’t screwed up in the first place. And you wouldn’t be facing a rip if you’d held it together. You went at her, for Christ’s sake, in my office, under my nose. You made physical contact.”

“She got in my fucking way.”

“And you’re getting in mine. I’m putting myself out for you, and I don’t like putting myself out. Remember that.”

“And you remember just what I can do if you try to fuck with me. Remember who knows where the bodies are buried, where the dirt’s stored. If you want to keep what you’ve got, Renee sweetie, you make damn sure I keep mine.”

“Asshole!” she spewed, pounding a fist on the wheel when he broke transmission.

Feeney came back on. “Pretty, huh? After she pulled into her garage. Sat there stewing in her vehicle for a while. Didn’t make any more contacts.”

“Very sweet. No actual admissions of wrongdoing, but plenty of insinuations. He’s on the heat, and she knows it.”

“He’s still useful to her,” Webster put in, “so she wants to keep him.”

“Definitely,” Eve agreed, “but more than that, he works for her, she took him on, and she damn well needs him to remember who’s ... top dog.”

“She loses it when her authority’s questioned or threatened.” Peabody waited for Eve’s nod. “Under it, I don’t think she’s as confident as she wants to be, even thinks she is. She’s scared of losing the controls because holding the controls is what matters most to her.”

“I believe you’d do Mira proud with that analysis,” Eve told her.

“Fear makes her dangerous.”

“Then we’re going to make her very, very dangerous.” And, Eve thought, she would personally revel in it. “We’ll have to see how she intends to handle me. On the Giraldi investigation, according to the file, Garnet and Bix have been tracing a shipment coming in within the next two weeks for the Giraldi family—specifically for Anthony G. She’s altered some in the file, but I’m going to take care of that. My research indicates Anthony Giraldi deals primarily in Zeus and hard-line sex drugs like Whore and Rabbit.”

She frowned as her ’link signaled another incoming. “Oh, look here. It’s Renee sweetie. Stay on, Feeney, answering as conference trans, blind incoming to current contact.

“Dallas,” she answered with an edge of impatience.