Connections in Death (In Death 48)

A nice side benefit, Eve thought as she tapped Peabody. “Let’s break this prick.”

“Snap! We’re good with the feds?”

“They’re with Vinn now.”

She opened the door to Interview. If anything Cohen looked more miserable than he had that morning. “Record on. Dallas and Peabody resuming Interview with Cohen. I don’t see your legal representative, Sam. Should we go find him for you?”

“On further consideration I’ve elected to represent myself in this witch hunt.”

“Then, for the record, you’re waiving your right to an attorney?”

“I am an attorney.”

Eve merely sat, stared at him.

“All right, yes.”

“Okay then. And, for the record, we’re adding a third charge of accessory to murder.”

“What? This is ridiculous. This is—this is bullshit!”

“Aimes, Barry, age seventeen.” Eve mimed slitting her throat with her finger. “He’s one of the assholes you enlisted to kill Pickering and Duff. You know what’s bullshit, Sam? That there’s honor among thieves. There’s even less honor among murderers.”

“I don’t even know this person.”

Casual, confident, Eve rocked back in her chair. “You know, I don’t doubt you didn’t know his name. His name wouldn’t be important. Just that he do the job you wanted done. But you damn well know the name of the Banger who helped you set all this up. Give me the name, Sam. Even a half-assed attorney would advise his client to roll when he’s facing three counts of murder.”

“Even a half-assed cop would know I’ve been in custody since last night and couldn’t have had anything to do with slitting some gang member’s throat.”

“Gosh, Sam, you’ve forgotten all about accessory before the fact. You maybe need to hit the law books again. Add this: The newest dead guy was part of your conspiracy to murder, and is now dead due to his part in that conspiracy.”

“Buy a clue,” Peabody added. “And give us the damn name. Even a half-assed murder suspect knows he who flips first gets the best deal.”

At the hard, angry look Eve shot her, Peabody shrugged.

“Come on, Dallas, he can’t be that dumb.”

“What kind of deal? No, no,” Cohen said immediately. “I don’t want to hear it. I don’t know anything about any of these killings. My partnership with Marcus Jones was real estate. How he earned his share of the investment has nothing to do with me. If he’s a criminal, arrest him!”

“Maybe we’ll put you in Holding together,” Peabody speculated. “After we let him and the rest of the gang know why you’re in here.”

“Terrible accidents do happen in Holding sometimes,” Eve added, shifting to Peabody. “Outside, too. Say, if somebody happened to make bail and got released, and word got out he’d spilled his guts to the cops … Terrible accident.”

“You can’t do that!”

“Do what?” Eve shifted back. “We’re just talking here.”

“I’ve told you nothing. Those people are violent criminals.”

“You should’ve thought of that before you threw in with them. And don’t start back up with the bullshit. Your records, for Christ’s sake. Your records show your percentage of profits from illegal activity committed by Jones and his gang. So, yeah, we’re going to wrap Jones up, using your records. And unless he hires an idiot for an attorney, he’ll find out where we got our information. It’s called discovery. Remember?”

“A guy like Jones’ll probably break his spine for that alone,” Peabody put in. “Unless we work it so Jones can’t get to him. But we’ve got no incentive.”

“Once we pull Jones in using the evidence gathered from Sam’s records, it’s done.” Eve lifted her shoulders, let them fall. “Those terrible accidents? They increase exponentially in prison.”

Cohen’s eyes glittered, not from anger, but the beginning of tears. “This is my life you’re talking about.”

“Three people in the morgue, you fuck. Every one of them had a life. And that doesn’t begin to count the scores of lives screwed up or ended because of your partner’s criminal activities, from which you profited.”