“I just said you shouldn’t count on it.” Peabody shifted her file bag and wished the scent of grilled bacon didn’t wrap around her system like a lover.
But since it did, she dumped the bag and surrendered to temptation, crunching into the first slice as Roarke came in.
“Morning,” she managed. “Best briefings ever.”
“No point in solving murders on an empty stomach. You’re looking rosy this morning, Peabody.”
“It’s the bacon.”
“Woot! French toast.” McNab grinned as Roarke poured himself some coffee. “Thanks for the spread.”
“Feeding cops has its rewards.”
And this one, Roarke assumed, had the metabolism of a manic chipmunk to eat as he did and remain thin as a wafer.
“We got here a little early,” McNab told him, “so Peabody could help Dallas set up.”
“And I want to go over some things with her on the Devin investigation.”
“While they’re at it,” McNab continued, heaping a plate, “I wanted to bounce this idea off you. Feeney and I kicked it around some last night.”
“Bounce away.”
“I think we could use the bugs we planted in Oberman’s vehicle to narrow in on the frequency of her disposable. We’d need to tweak and enhance the remote, narrow the focus to the disposable’s signal when she’s on it. It’d take some luck to lock it in, but if we could, we should be able to use it to triangulate.”
“Coordinate the plants and remote, boosting output while narrowing range, redirect, and trap her signal. Trap it,” Roarke considered, intrigued, “and clone it.”
“Yeah. If we pulled it off, we could—theoretically—use the clone to pick up her signals and conversations whenever and wherever she used the disposable.”
“Like a conference call,” Roarke mused. “Interesting.”
“Theoretically.”
“By boosting the strength, you’d run a risk of her picking up the bug on a full sweep, particularly during triangulation. But timed right, and with the right adjustments, it could work.”
“If you want to play with that idea,” Peabody interrupted, “I could hook with Dallas on my end.”
“She’s not back yet.” Roarke glanced at the time. “She responded to a second homicide at your original scene. Garnet’s dead.”
“Shit, that balls things up.” McNab stuffed a bite of French toast dripping with syrup into his mouth. “Feeney and I were going to start on his electronics today, and if we got the go, slip into his place and wire it up. No point now.”
“Why didn’t she tag me?” Peabody demanded. “If Garnet’s down, I should’ve gotten the tag.”
/> “It’s not her case—your case,” Roarke amended. “The primary on it contacted her early this morning, as a courtesy I’d say, and likely because he hoped she’d give him a lead.”
“It should be ours,” Peabody began, then settled down, backtracked. “No, it can’t be ours. She had two confrontations with him yesterday. McNab was monitoring when the asshole tried to jump her right out front here. We can’t work the case. Do you know who the primary is? How much she’s going to tell him?”
“Detective Janburry, but as to the rest, I couldn’t say.”
“Renee did this, because he went outside the box, became a negative factor. I have to run this Janburry.” Peabody forgot her love affair with bacon and moved off.
“Garnet made some bad moves,” McNab commented. “Too bad he’s dead because he earned a long stretch in a cage. But ...” With a shrug, McNab shoveled in more food. “How’d he buy it?”
“I don’t know that either. She hoped to be back to run the briefing.” Christ knew he’d hoped it. “If she doesn’t make it, and she’s cutting it close, I’ll lead things off.”
“Solid.”
Feeney came in, smiled at the buffet. “I told the wife I’d get plenty of the most important meal of the day. The boy tell you about his brainstorm?”