Dark in Death (In Death 46)

Obliging, Nadine rose, walked to the board, studied the shots from the vid palace’s feed. “One. That’s the same person? Entering a male,” she noted. “Sunshades, watch cap, bulky coat. Leaving as female. Truly horrible coat, pom-pom earflap hat, those ridiculous wind goggles. But … same boots, same pants. Wait, wait—that’s … that’s Dark Days, that killing. The actress, the vid. And the killer was male.”

Eyes sparking, Nadine turned back. “Not just killing someone representing a character, but killing as a character.”

“We’re not going public with that.”

“Ouch.”

“I’ve got a line on her, Nadine: wannabe writer, obsessed with DeLano. I’ve got correspondence.”

Eve summed it up quickly.

“How is Blaine dealing?”

“She’s hiring security. She’ll be smart.”

“I’m going to talk to her about this. I’ll keep her name out of it as long as possible. What are you looking for with the one-on-one?”

“We’ve linked two cases, and are investigating them as connected. We believe we’re looking for one suspect. I’m primary on both cases. I’m heading a team focused on bringing this individual to justice. You’ll ask what you ask. I’ll give you the ‘can’t comment’ when I can’t, give you a few juicy bits when I can. She needs to see me as an adversary. I don’t think it’ll take her off DeLano, she’s too dug in. But it will give her something to worry about. It’ll shake the bubble she’s living in. It may damn well pop it.”

Jiggling a foot, Nadine nodded. “You’re changing the plot on her, writing yourself in. I can tell you that introducing a major element, like a new antagonist, changes everything.”

“I’m counting on it. Let’s get it done.” Eve hit the interoffice. “Peabody, send Nadine’s camera in.”

Nadine took out the compact again, and this time actually did check her face, dusted her nose, then glanced over as not only the camerawoman but Quilla came to the door.

“You’re on bullpen observation.”

Quilla stood very straight, turned to the camerawoman, who grinned back at her. “The detectives and uniformed officers who inhabit the Homicide bullpen at NYPSD’s Cop Central may spend some parts of their shifts at desks, talking on ’links, writing reports, meticulously gathering data on investigations. But these often tedious tasks are as essential a part of the job they perform as confronting suspects and apprehending killers. They perform these duties with dedication and with a kind of intricate camaraderie, like soldiers during a battle lull. Their standards, their duty, their ethics are encapsulated in the motto they’ve posted in the bullpen to remind them what it is to carry a badge and work for the victim.

“It reads: ‘No matter your race, creed, sexual orientation, or political affiliation, we protect and serve, because you could get dead. Even if you were an asshole.’

“These are the words the brave men and women of the NYPSD, Homicide Division, live by.”

Nadine touched up her lip dye. “You ran over the thirty, so you’d need some editing. And you’ve fallen back on passive voice here and there. Example: ‘The motto in their bullpen speaks for itself.’ Then you quote it. Active voice, fewer words.”

“Got it. Can I observe the one-on-one?”

“Stay off-camera, and keep it zipped.”

As Quilla pumped a fist at her side, Nadine saw her eyes track to Eve’s board. It made her proud. “That’s off the record,” she said briskly. “Any journalist who doesn’t respect off the record has no ethics, and doesn’t deserve to be a journalist.”

“I’ve got that, too. Can I ask you questions later?”

“Why would I want an intern who didn’t ask questions?” Nadine returned. “But right now, zipped. No visual of the board,” she added to the camerawoman as she rose. “Let’s see how it looks by that sorry excuse for a window. A little slice of the city outside, the murder cop all in fuck-you black, the hard-driving crime beat reporter in her serious, if elegant, plum. How’s the light?”

“Second,” the camerawoman muttered as she made adjustments. “Good. Good light.”

“Content’s the big guns,” Nadine told Quilla as she took her angle. “But on air, if you want those bullets to penetrate, visuals matter. We’ll do the intro back at the station, so a straight-on two-shot. In three, two … Lieutenant Dallas,” she began.

Nadine hit all the points. Eve kept it short and pithy, and tossed in a touch of arrogance with one viewer in mind. She judged it a satisfying use of her time, and calculated Nadine would have it on air within an hour—with repeat showings through the evening.

Before she could get back to her desk, Peabody came in. “Got you another skank, in fact, two for one. Turns out they’re frenemies and came in together.”

Eve considered. “I’ll take them together then. It may have more impact that way.”

“I’ll set them up. Oh, and I may have a line on the fabric—and now I’m pretty sure you’re right about her making that coat. I’m waiting for a tag back. How about that Quilla?”

“How about her?”