As Eve stepped in, Sergeant Clooney hurried to the group by the door. “Patsy, you have to stay calm.”
“I’m supposed to stay calm when I’m burying my husband tomorrow and this woman is trying to smear him? To ruin his reputation? Everything he worked for.”
There were no tears, but there was fury. Eve preferred it. “Mrs. Kohli, you’re mistaken.”
“You think I haven’t heard? You think I don’t know?” She sneered as Eve’s glance shifted to Clooney. “No, not from him. He says you’re doing your job. But I know what you’re doing.”
“Patsy.” Clooney laid a hand on her back, kept his voice low and calm. “You don’t want to upset the children.”
And there were plenty of them, Eve noted. A couple of babies, and one of those bigger babies who waddled around on shaky legs and made her nervous. The young boy Peabody had taken to the park on their first visit sat on the floor with a girl of about the same age. Their eyes were wide and focused on her.
She much preferred the four men with guns she’d just dispatched.
“Carla.” With rigid control, Patsy turned to the woman Eve now identified as her sister. “Would you take the children to the park? Would you do that for me?”
“I don’t like to leave you alone.”
“I’m all right. Just take the children. They’ve been cooped up too long.”
Eve stood where she was and watched what appeared to be a well-rehearsed if chaotic circus. Babies were packed into some sort of rolling cart where they wiggled and shook pudgy fists. The one who could walk, more or less, tumbled onto his padded butt, laughed uproariously, and was hooked into a safety harness.
The older children were ordered to hold hands. There was a short but desperate moment until the little boy’s jacket was discovered. The noise level reached a dangerous peak, then cut off abruptly when the entire contingent trailed out the door.
“I will not ask you to sit down,” Patsy said stiffly. “I will not offer you refreshment. My husband was a good man.” Her voice trembled, nearly broke. But she continued. “An honest man. He would do nothing to shame his name, or me, or his children.”
“I know that, Mrs. Kohli,” Eve said and stopped what promised to become a tirade in its tracks. “Everything I’ve learned in my investigation of your husband’s death confirms that he was a solid cop.”
“Then how can you spread vicious lies about him? How can you let people think—his own coworkers believe—he was taking money?”
“Patsy.” Before Eve could speak, Clooney took the woman’s arm. “Lieutenant Dallas is doing her job, just as Taj did his job. Come sit down now.”
“I want answers.” But she went with Clooney now, let him guide her to a chair. “I deserve answers.”
“Yes, ma’am, you do. I’m only able, at this time, to tell you that I’ve learned Detective Kohli was working under cover, and part of that cover involved the pretense that he was accepting illicit funds. He was part of an operation formed to expose corruption in the department. His death, Mrs. Kohli, was, in my opinion, in the line of duty. And that will be stated in my official findings.”
“I don’t understand.” Tears threatened as she lowered her face into her hands. “I don’t understand any of this.”
“I can’t explain it to you in detail at this time. Mrs. Kohli, I intend to find your husband’s killer. You can help me.”
“I don’t know how to help. I’m sorry, please sit down. I’ll get coffee.”
“There’s no need—”
“I have to settle myself.” She drew herself up. “I need a moment to think. Excuse me.”
“She’s been holding up so well,” Clooney muttered when Patsy left the room. “Almost too well. For the children, I imagine. Then this.”
“What this, Clooney?” Eve didn’t sit but turned her full attention on him. “What have you been telling her?”
“That her husband was a good man,” he shot back. “And that you’re doing your job.”
He paused, held up a hand as he took the time to compose himself. “Look, I don’t know where she got the information that you were heaping dirt on him. She won’t tell me. All I know is I got a call from her a few hours ago. She was close to hysterical.”
He picked up a little toy truck from the cushions of the couch, turned it over in his hand. “Kids,” he said, as if to give himself a moment to calm down as well. “You never know what you’re going to sit on when you’ve got kids in the house.”
“What did she want from you, Sergeant?”
“Reassurance. That’s all survivors want in the end. And that’s what I’ve tried to give. I’d heard the talk around the squad the last day or two but didn’t put much credence in it.” He paused another moment. “I don’t know you, so I didn’t discount the talk, either. But it’s not my function here to stir up the survivors. I’ve been working to calm her down since I got here.”