Festive in Death (In Death 39) - Page 149
“It’s why you said I should talk to Sadie, and she said how I needed to find out for sure. So I did. I even went over there, to his house, and I watched, and I saw him. I saw him and his wife come out together and get in a car, and he wasn’t on a trip. They were laughing. She wasn’t being mean to him. He—he kissed her before they got in the car, and I knew it was all a lie. I came home. Am I in trouble?”
“Why would you be in trouble?”
“I took some of the clothes he bought me, and I used the credit card he got me to pay for the trip home. I didn’t have enough since I stopped working. I’ll pay it back.”
“Did he give you the clothes?”
“Yeah, but—”
“Did he give you the card to use?”
“He did.”
“Then you’re not in trouble.”
“I left him a memo cube. I said how I was leaving, and I wouldn’t have anything to do with somebody who lied and cheated like that, and made me a liar and a cheater, too. I’m not coming back, I don’t think. I think I don’t belong in New York. Did he do something really bad? Worse than lying and cheating?”
“It looks that way.”
“He was so nice to me, so I loved him. But it wasn’t real.”
“I may need to talk to you again, but I’m glad you went home. I’m glad you’re with your family.”
“Me, too. Um, Merry Christmas, Dallas.”
“Same to you.”
Eve clicked off, sat back, sorted through.
“Lawyer’s here,” Peabody said from the doorway.
“We’ll give them some time, then start again.”
Eve gave them an hour, taking the time to fine-tune her approach, then walked through the bullpen to get Peabody.
She saw Jenkinson had taken her at her word.
A banner hung over the break-room door, facing out so any who came in would see the sentiment:
NO MATTER YOUR RACE, CREED, SEXUAL ORIENTATION, OR POLITICAL AFFILIATION, WE PROTECT AND SERVE, BECAUSE YOU COULD GET DEAD.
Obviously, there’d been some discussion, some teamwork on the wording, but Jenkinson’s original sentiment remained. Her first reaction wasn’t the amusement she’d expected, but a tug of pride. Because it was the righteous truth.
She took a quick scan of the men and women who served under her. Trueheart in his pristine uniform earnestly working on his comp. Baxter, kicked back, designer shoes propped on his desk, talking on his desk ’link. Jenkinson scowling at his screen as he chowed down on some questionable sandwich from Vending.
The room smelled of truly terrible coffee, someone’s greasy lunch, the fake pine someone had sprayed on the silly tree. It smelled like cops at Christmas, she thought.
“Peabody, let’s lock this up. The rest of you? That—” She pointed toward the banner. “That stays up. Anybody from Maintenance or Standards or Legal tries to take it down, kick them to me.”
Peabody scurried after Eve. “We’re really leaving it up?”
“How did we start this investigation? Giving our time and effort to get justice for a worthless asshole. The sign stays. It speaks the truth.”
She walked into Interview, read the necessary data into the record, then sat across from Copley and his lawyer.
“So, here we are again.”
And let it hang.
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