Treachery in Death (In Death 32)

She made a rude face behind his back as he opened the door. Childish, she knew, but it felt good. “If I can get proof Renee has secret accounts, that Garnet does, or Bix, I can clear Webster to open that part of it to IAB. He’s hamstrung, too.”

“Then unstring us, damn it.”

“You don’t have to get mad about it,” she said as they both strode past Summerset and up the steps.

“I’m not a cop,” Roarke reminded her.

“Alert the media.”

“Mind yourself, Lieutenant. I’m not a cop,” he repeated, “and it’s annoying to be asked to perform minor miracles while toeing the line you set.”

It was her turn for frustrated, with a pinch of temper. “I’ve moved it plenty, and you know it.”

“So move it again.”

“Every time I do, I worry I won’t remember where I left it.”

“You couldn’t forget that if you had amnesia. Added to it, I know where. I may not agree, but I know where you put it, and how far you can nudge it and feel you’ve done the right thing. You ought to know the same of me.”

She opened her mouth, prepared to punch back a little, then closed it again. “I do,” she realized. “I guess I do. This is ... a situation. If I had the data, I could pass it officially to Webster for IAB. If IAB could officially open an investigation, they’d find the damn data. I’m trying to find the way between, and what I’m hearing is you can’t get it with the way I’ve set this up. I don’t get why, but—”

“I can bloody do it.”

Insult reared up in his eyes. Not just insult, she decided. Geek insult.

“But it’ll take more time—considerable time.” He lifted his brows, his voice coolly ple

asant. “Would you like me to explain all the technical reasons, roadblocks, fail-safes, and so on as to why?”

“Really, no. I don’t get why,” she began again, “but if you tell me you can’t do it this way in good time, it can’t be done this way in good time. My way,” she corrected. “So do it yours. I mean, not all the way yours. Not the unregistered on this, Roarke.”

“I understand that. I’ll work it as close to your line as I possibly can. All right?”

“Yeah.”

He rocked on his heels as he studied her. “That was a quick spat.”

“Probably because there’s still a little sexual haze.”

“You wouldn’t be wrong. Start your digging. I’ll get the pizza.”

She walked to her board first, circled it, studied it. She rearranged a couple of the photos fanning out from Renee, cocked her head and considered.

“I have to go out,” she told him when he came back in with the platter. She walked over, snagged a slice of the pie. “Ow. Hot.”

He shook his head as she shifted the slice from hand to hand. “Try this,” he suggested, handed her a plate. “Where are we going?”

“Not we. I need to talk to a cop—a female cop in Renee’s squad. Probability is minimal she’s involved in this. Renee doesn’t work with women. She intimidates or eliminates.”

“She hasn’t had any luck intimidating you.”

“Yeah, and that’s a pisser for her. She’s going to face a bigger one when she doesn’t have any luck eliminating me. Strong, Detective Lilah,” Eve told him. “I had a feeling about her the first time I walked into that squad room, and I need to follow my gut on her. And it needs to be a one-on-one.”

“You could tag Peabody rather than go this alone.”

“Then it’s ganging up. I don’t want to intimidate her—mostly because it wouldn’t work unless I put a lot behind it. What I need to do is give her an opening. It’ll give you time to play your geek games without me bugging you.”

“There is that. You’ll engage your wire.”