Delusion in Death (In Death 35)

“It is indeed,” Teasdale agreed.

“Is that enough, Reo?” Eve asked.

“Oh, I’d say that, served on a silver platter.”

“Peabody, get a couple of uniforms to help you take Lew through processing. I don’t believe he’s going to feel very cooperative.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Screw that.” He tipped back, smirked at Eve as Peabody slipped out. “I’m not doing any time, even overnight. I’m with the HSO.”

“What you are, Callaway, is deeply stupid.”

“What you are, bitch, is fucked. When do I meet the head men, Agent?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Callaway, if I gave the impression the offer would precede you serving out your sentences. The HSO does believe you’ll be very useful to us—should there be a medical miracle and you survive one hundred and twenty-seven life sentences. And we feel you’ll be very useful serving approximately the same amount of additional time in a federal institution.”

“This is bullshit. You said—”

“I believe the record will show I gave no specific details on this offer. In any case, lying during Interview or interrogation is accepted—even encouraged. I believe, Mr. Callaway, it’s you who are fucked. I’m very happy to have played a small part in it.”

Eve braced when he surged to his feet. “Please try it. My turn,” she said to Teasdale. But even as she spoke, Peabody came in with two uniforms.

“Oh well, maybe next time.”

“I want a deal.” He struggled against the vice grip on his arms.

“Sure. Ask me after, say, seventy of those life sentences.” Reo smiled at him like a raptor. “We’ll talk.”

“I want a lawyer!”

“Let him contact a rep after processing,” Eve told Peabody. “Nice work, Agent.”

“The same, Lieutenant. He was proud of it. You were right about that.”

“Yeah, and ambitious. You were right with the HSO angle.”

“I’ll report to my superior, handle the paperwork on my end.” Teasdale let out a long, windy breath. “Then I’d like a very big drink.”

“I hear that. One thing. Is Menzini still alive?”

“My information is he died a few months ago.”

“Okay. I’ll be around.” She turned to Reo. “No deals, right?”

“What’s to deal? He spelled it out. If he gets a decent lawyer, he’ll try for insanity or mental defect.”

“He’s not insane nor defective,” Mira said. “I had a session with him right here, on record. He isn’t legally insane, and was perfectly aware what he did was wrong, immoral, illegal. There won’t be a health facility sentence here. It’s his conscience, his morals that are defective, not his mind.”

“Good to hear. I’ll have all the records for you within the hour,” she told Reo.

“I’ll wait. By the way, sex-me-up shoes?”

“I was following a theme.”

“Well.” Reo turned her ankles, looked down. “They are pretty fabulous.”

“They are,” Mira agreed.