"Then why aren't you following my orders?" She turned away to harass the crime scene team and left him grinning after her.
"That was really sweet," Peabody said when they were back in their vehicle with cups of hot, horrible coffee.
"Don't start, Peabody."
"Come on, Dallas. You gave the guy a nice break."
"He gave us a potential witness and it was another way to burn that idiot Bowers's ass." She smiled thinly. "Next chance you get, Peabody, do a run on her. I like to know everything I can about people who want to rip the skin off my face."
"I'll take care of it when we're back at Central. You want hard copy?"
"Yeah. Run Trueheart, too, just for form."
"Wouldn't mind running him." Peabody wiggled her eyebrows. "He's very cute."
Eve slanted her a look. "You're pathetic, and you're too old for him."
"I can't have more than a couple, maybe three years on him," Peabody said with a hint of insult. "And some guys prefer a more experienced woman."
"I thought you were still tight with Charles."
"We date," Peabody lifted her shoulders, still uncomfortable discussing this particular man with Eve. "But we're not exclusive."
Tough to be exclusive with a licensed companion, Eve thought but held her tongue. Snapping out her opinion of Peabody developing a relationship with Charles Monroe had come much too close to breaking the bond between them a few weeks before.
"You're okay with that?" she said instead.
"That's the way we both want it. We like each other, Dallas. We have a good time together. I wish you—" She broke off, firmly shut her mouth.
"I didn't say anything."
"You're thinking pretty damn loud."
Eve set her teeth. They were not, she promised herself, going back there. "What I'm thinking," she said evenly, "is about getting some breakfast before we start on the paperwork."
Deliberately, Peabody rolled the stiffness out of her shoulders. "That works for me. Especially if you're buying."
"I bought last time."
"I don't think so, but I can check my records." More cheerful, Peabody pulled out her electronic memo book and made Eve laugh.
*** CHAPTER TWO ***
The best that could be said about the slop served at Cop Central's Eatery was that it filled the hole serious hunger could dig. Between bites of what was supposed to be a spinach omelette, Peabody accessed data on her palm PC.
"Ellen Bowers," she reported. "No middle initial. Graduated from the academy, New York branch, in '46."
"I was there in '46," Eve mused. "She'd have been right ahead of me. I don't remember her."
"I can't get her academy records without authorization."
"Don't bother with that." Scowling, Eve hacked at the cardboard disguised as a pancake on her plate. "She's been on the force a dozen years and she's scooping stiffs downtown? Wonder who else she pissed off."
"Assigned to the one sixty-two for the last two years, spent another couple at the four-seven. Before that, assigned to Traffic. Man, she's bounced all over, Dallas. Did time in Cop Central in Records, another stint at the two-eight—that's Park Patrol, mostly on-foot stuff."
Since even the small lake of syrup Eve had used to drown the pancake didn't soften it, she gave up and switched to gut-burning coffee. "Sounds like our friend's had trouble finding her niche or the department's been shuffling her."
"Authorization's required to access transfer documents and/or personal progress reports."