“Apology accepted.”
“That was very quick.”
“So was your apology.”
Roth blinked, then nodded slowly. “I hate making them. I haven’t gotten where I am on the job by indulging my temper or apologizing for it. Neither, I imagine, have you. Women are still more closely scrutinized in the department and more strictly judged.”
“That may be true, Captain. I don’t let it concern me.”
“Then you’re a better woman than I, Dallas, or a great deal less ambitious. Because it burns the living hell out of me.” She inhaled, hissed the breath out through her teeth. “My coming at you as I have has been an emotional reaction, an indulgence again, that was both inappropriate and ill-advised. I’m going to tell you that I over
reacted to Kohli’s death because I liked him, very much. I believe I overreacted to Mills because I disliked him. Very much.”
She glanced back at the car. “He was a son of a bitch, a mean-spirited man who made no secret that, in his opinion, women should be having babies, cooking pies, and not wearing a badge. He disliked blacks, Jews, Asians . . . hell, he disliked everyone who wasn’t just what he was: an overfed white male. But he was my cop, and I want whoever opened him up that way.”
“So do I, Captain.”
Roth nodded again, and together they watched the ME arrive. Morse, Eve noted. Only the top dog for one of the boys in blue.
“Homicide isn’t my sphere, Dallas, as Clooney in his calm, reasonable manner has pointed out to me. I know your rep, and I’m depending on it. I want . . .” She trailed off and seemed to bite down on impatience. “I’d appreciate being sent a copy of your report.”
“You’ll have it in the morning.”
“Thank you.” She looked back, her eyes skimming over Eve’s face. “Are you as good as they say?”
“I don’t listen to what they say.”
Roth gave a short laugh. “You want to wear bars, you’d better start.” And she held out a hand.
Eve took it. They parted ways, one to speak of death and the other to stand over it.
As she walked, Eve glanced up and spotted the first media copter.
That, she decided, was a problem for later.
“Well, they made a mess out of him, didn’t they?” Morse took the time to pull on a protective gown, then placidly sealed his hands and shoes while Eve waited beside him.
“Push the tox reports. I’m betting he was unconscious when he was sliced. His weapon’s still on safety, and there aren’t any defensive wounds. I could smell gin on him.”
“Take a hell of a lot of gin to take a man his size under far enough that this could be done to him without his objection. You think he was killed while he sat there?”
“Too much blood for otherwise. The killer got him drunk, doped, whatever, took the time to unbutton his shirt, sliced him right down the middle. Then he buttoned him up again, strapped him in. Even tipped the seat back just enough so that his insides would stay in, more or less, until some lucky winner unstrapped him.”
“Bet I can guess who that lucky winner was.” Morse smiled at her with a great deal of sympathy.
“Yeah, I rang that bell.” She was, damn it, going to feel the sensation of Mills’s intestines slopping over her hands for a long, very long time. “The killer drove Mills here,” she continued, “and walked away. We won’t find any prints.”
She scanned the area. “Ballsy. Ballsy again. He’d have to sit here. Maybe he even did it here, but I’m thinking he’s not that much of a fucking daredevil. But he’d have to sit here and wait until he was sure it was clear enough for him to get out of the car. He had to have another transpo close by.”
“An accomplice?”
“Maybe. Maybe. I can’t rule it out. We’ll check with the traffic cops, see if they spotted another car in the break-down lane tonight. He didn’t just walk off the goddamn bridge. He had a plan. He knew the steps. Get me the tox, Morse.”
Peabody was standing by the rail, McNab beside her. She’d gotten her color back, but Eve thought she knew the kind of images her aide would see when she closed her eyes that night.
“McNab, you want in on this?”
“Yes, sir.”