"Wrong cops piss me off." He sipped, closed his eyes in pleasure, sighed gustily. "It lives up to the hype." He opened his eyes again, studied her.
He'd had a mild thing for her for a dozen years, he thought now. It was just a little mortifying to know she'd never realized it. Then again, she'd always been too focused on the job to give men much attention.
Until Roarke, he mused.
"Hard to picture you as a married woman. It was always business for you. It was always the job."
"My personal life doesn't change that. It's still the job."
"Yeah, I figured." He shifted, straightening. "I didn't take this complaint just for old times' sake, Dallas."
"We didn't have enough old times to generate a sake."
He smiled again. "Maybe you didn't." He sipped more coffee. His eyes stayed on hers and sobered. "You're a good cop, Dallas."
He said it so simply it dulled the leading edge of her temper. She turned, stared out the window. "She smudged my record."
"Only on paper. I like you, Dallas, always did, so I'm stepping out of procedure here to tell you—to warn you—she wants your blood."
"What the hell for? Because I slapped her down over sloppy work?"
"It goes deeper. You don't even remember her, do you? From the academy."
"No."
"You can bet your excellent ass she remembers you. She graduated with me, we were on our way out when you were coming in. And you shone, Dallas, right from the start. Classes, simulations, endurance tests, combat training. Instructors were saying you were the best to ever come through the doors. People talked about you."
He smiled again when she glanced over her shoulder, her brows knit. "No, you wouldn't have heard," he said. "Because you wouldn't have been listening. You concentrated on one thing: getting your badge."
He leaned a hip on her desk, savoring the coffee as he spoke. "Bowers used to bitch about you to the couple of friends she'd managed to make. Muttered that you were probably sleeping with half the instructors to get preferential treatment. I had my ear to the ground even then," he added.
"I don't remember her." Eve shrugged, but the idea of being gossiped about burned a hole in her gut.
"You wouldn't, but I can guarantee she remembered you. I'm going to stay outside of procedure and tell you that Bowers is a problem. She files complaints faster than a traffic droid writes citations. Most are dismissed, but every now and again, she finds a thread to tug and a cop's career unravels. Don't give her a thread, Dallas."
"What the hell am I supposed to do?" Eve demanded. "She fucked up, I pinned her for it. That's the whole deal here. I can't sit around worrying she's going to make life tough for me. I'm after somebody who's cutting people open and helping himself to their parts. He's going to keep doing it unless I find him, and I can't find him unless I can do my goddamn job."
"Then let's get this over with." He took a microrecorder out of his pocket, set it on her desk. "We do the interview—keep it clean and formal—it gets filed, and we forget this ever happened. Believe me, nobody in IAB wants to see you take heat for this. We all know Bowers."
"Then why the hell aren't you investigating her?" Eve muttered, then pursed her lips when Webster smiled, thin and sharp. "Well, maybe the rat squad has some uses, after all."
• • • •
The experience left her feeling raw and irritated, but she told herself the matter was now closed. She put a call in to Paris first, and wound her way through red tape until she reached Detective Marie DuBois, primary on the like-crime case.
Since her French counterpart had little English and Eve had no French, they worked through the translation program on their computers. Frustration began to build as twice her computer sent her questions to DuBois in Dutch.
"Hold on a minute, let me send for my aide," Eve requested.
DuBois blinked, frowned, shook her head. "Why," the computer animated voice demanded, "do you say I eat dirt for breakfast?"
Eve threw up her hands in disgust. Despite the barrier, her frustration and apology must have shown clearly enough. Marie laughed. "It is your equipment, yes?"
"Yes. Yes. Please, wait." Eve contacted Peabody, then cautiously tried again. "My equipment is a problem. Sorry."
"No need. Such problems are, for cops, universal. You are interested in the Leclerk case?"
"Very. I have two like crimes. Your data and your input on Leclerk would be very helpful."