Indulgence in Death

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

HE’D WONDERED IF SHE’D FOLLOWED THOSE dots, but Roarke could see now she hadn’t gone there. Oh, her ego was healthy enough, but it simply hadn’t clicked how precisely she fit their victim profile.

She was the best at what she did, and well known for it, particularly well with the success of Nadine’s book. She’d made herself what she was.

She wasn’t for hire in a technical sense, but she served.

And the connection, well fuck it all, it was through him, wasn’t it?

She was going there now, and bloody buggering hell she was considering how she could use it, use herself.

“It’s your opinion I’m a target,” Eve said to Mira.

“It’s my opinion that you’re not only a perfect fit, but would be, to them, the ultimate prey. Their timing of the first murder played the odds, and they were good ones, that you would catch the case,” Mira reminded her. “If you hadn’t, you would certainly have been involved in some manner by the second murder, which also connected to Roarke through its location. You fit their target requirements. You’re known to be one of the best in your field, a field of service. You’ve gained notoriety for what you do.”

“I don’t have any past connection with them.” But even as she said it, she glanced at Roarke.

“Of course you do,” he said, equably, “because I do. My business dealings and theirs have crossed in the past. They have reason, if they take such matters personally, to resent me for some of those dealings.”

She hooked her thumbs in her front pockets. “Why not go for you?”

He smiled. “Wouldn’t that be entertaining? I don’t fit,” he added. “I don’t provide a service, nor am I for sale. Protect and serve, Lieutenant, for which you draw a salary. And if you’d think as they do for a moment rather than grinding those gears wondering how you could set yourself up as bait, you’d see you’re an indulgence. Mine. From their perspective, I bought and paid for you. Mind you don’t sputter.”

He felt her fury, the hot burst of it, and continued to lean against the wall and watch her.

She pulled it in—he had to admire the strength of will—and simply nodded.

“I’d like to give this some thought, discuss it further, but detailing the investigation, thus far, and getting the warrants are the priority and purpose here. Do you have enough to take to your boss, Reo?”

“I’ll take it to him, and I’ll push.” Reo sat where she was, scanning the boards and screens. “You’ve got a mountain of circumstantial here that adds up to a solid argument for the search warrants. You’re shy of arrest—and you know it,” she added. “You’ve convinced me, and I’ll convince the PA. Convincing a judge to issue the warrants to search the homes of two men with no priors, with their pedigree, their connections and influence, that’s going to be work, and it’s going to take time.”

She rose. “So I’d better get started. It’s damn good work, all around. I’ll be in touch.”

“Let’s add to the mountain,” Eve said as Reo walked out. “Dig, push, wheedle, finesse. We’re going to pile it on, and we’re going to bring them in. Get back to work. Doctor Mira,” she continued as cops surged to their feet, “if I could have a few minutes. Commander, I’ll keep you fully updated and informed.”

“I believe I’ll stay.”

“Yes, sir. Peabody, coordinate the—”

“If my partner’s thinking about sticking herself on a hook, I’m going to be in on the strategy session.”

“Bait needs an e-team.” Feeney chose a pickle from the food table, crunched in.

“I’m not, at this time, planning any such operation.” She felt, literally, squeezed in. “It would be backup only, if Reo doesn’t get the warrants. I believe she will, so everybody can just stop hovering. Apologies, Commander.”

“Unnecessary.”

“Doctor Mira, if I’m a target, it’s likely they’ve already chosen the location and weapon, if not the time.”

“I agree. It would be my belief that you would be their endgame, at least here in New York, and at least for this phase of the contest. Everything points to their enjoyment of the competition, its results, so it’s unlikely they’ve positioned you for the last round. But—”

“If and when we get the search warrants, that would change the complexion of things.” Eve nodded. “It would piss them off, and it would challenge them. They’d want to go at me sooner.”

“I’d have to agree. They’ve left pieces of themselves at the scenes—the weapons. They’ve connected themselves to the murders, indirectly, to ensure you would have contact with them. While they compete with each other, they’re competing against you, as a team.”

“And they cheat.” Roarke took a bottle of water from the table.

“And when they tried that on you, you beat them. A golf thing,” Eve said with a shrug. “I’m not convinced you wouldn’t be a more exciting target. You’re not in service, fine, but you employ a universe of people who are. You’re already a competitor, and one they dislike because you had the nerve to build a fortune instead of inheriting one. It’s a pretty fair bet you’ve been involved with some of the women they’ve been involved with.”

He took a slow sip of water. “I’ll just say my taste has improved. Then point out what you should know very well. There’s no better way to strike at me than by murdering my wife.”

“The one you bought and paid for?”

Well now, that grated her ass, didn’t it? he mused. And for some perverse reason her reaction banked the embers of his own temper.

“Yes, to their minds. They don’t understand you, or me for that matter. And they certainly don’t understand love. Would you agree, Doctor Mira?”

“I would. And they prefer killing women. You can judge the ratio.” Mira gestured to the board. “They’ve killed men, and certainly will continue to if not stopped. But women are the preferred target, as both of them consider women something to be used, something disposable. Something less.”

“Dudley particularly,” Eve commented. “He surrounds himself with them. It’s like a harem. Okay.” She nodded again as her mind took a few leaps forward. “We’ll need to put something in place. The search warrants may be enough to push me to the head of the line, but we can work something that ups that time frame.”

“But if you wait for Reo to come through,” Peabody protested, “we’d have more time to work out the strategy, the backup.”

Feeney shook his head. “She fronts the play, they react. That puts them on defense. They have to rush their move, and while they’re pissed off. They don’t maneuver her into a situation, because she’s maneuvering them. We can get eyes and ears on you.”

“I’ve got this.” Eve held up her wrist, and Feeney’s eyes narrowed.

“Let me see that. Take it off,” he told her when she held her arm out. “I’m not going to pocket it.”

When she obliged him, he took it off to a chair to examine.

“I confront them. I’m pissed off.” Eve tapped a hand to her chest. “All these bodies piling up, and two in one day. I’m the best, right, and they’re running circles around me. I know they’re involved,” she continued as she began to pace. “I’ve got all these arrows pointing, but they’re racking up the points while I’m spinning. Makes me look incompetent.”

She could work this, she realized. Yes, she could work it.

“My commander’s on my ass, my husband’s getting testy with the hours I’m putting in. I’m starting to look like an idiot and I don’t like it. I’m going to light some fires.”

“How much will you give them?” Whitney asked her.

“Just what they’ve given me. The surface connections, but I need to make it personal. Them, me. Budget’s stretched,” she decided. “Yeah. I can’t access the resources through the department, but I’ll use my own money to get those resources outside the department. Don’t you know who I am? Don’t you know I’ve got more money than the two of you put together? That’ll speak to them, won’t it?” she asked Mira. “He bought me, but now I can get my hands on billions as long as I bang him when he wants it.”

“A fool and his money,” Roarke murmured, amused despite himself.

Mira let out a little sigh. “I would say it’s their probable view of your relationship.”

“And I’d say this no longer sounds like a backup plan,” Roarke put in.

“Feeney’s right, I front the play. I can time it. Hit them after I know, or am reasonably sure, we’re going to get the warrants, but before we serve them. It’s just adding incentive for them to move up their timetable. We sting them right,” she insisted, and Roarke understood she was pushing to get him in her corner, “they go after me, they go after a cop, they’re done. Their high-priced lawyers, their family fortunes, their goddamn pedigrees aren’t going to keep them out of a cage for the rest of their lives.”

“Is that what worries you?” he asked. “That even with the case you’ve built, even with the evidence you believe you’ll gather with the warrants, they’ll slip through the system?”

“They worry me.” In one sharp move, she pointed to the board, to the faces of the dead. “The chance I’ll have to put another up there worries me.”

He watched her realize she’d let her emotions spike, let them show in front of her superior. And he watched her draw them down again, draw them in.

“They want me up there,” she said in a tone both cool and flat, “so we’ll make them want me up there sooner.”

“You know, I’ve been working on something like this off and on.” Feeney continued to study the wrist unit as his casual comment defused the charged air. “This one’s nice and compact, got more bells and whistles than I’d worked out.”

He glanced up, his gaze flicking over Roarke before homing in on Eve. “What would be prime is if you run into them—the both of you—someplace. Public place. Restaurant, club, like that. That’s what fries you, see, trying to get a little downtime, and there they are in your face. Maybe you’re already pissy, having a spat with Roarke, and that just shoves you over the line. That way it comes off impulse. Like you just lost it there for a minute.”

“That is prime,” Eve agreed.

“I’ve got moments.” Feeney rose, handed the unit back to Eve, looked at Roarke. “That’s nice work.”

“Thanks.”

“Peabody, see if you can find out where they’re going to be tonight. At least one of them. Friday night . . . they’re not going to sit at home playing mah-jongg.”

“It’ll be easier and quicker for me to find out.” Roarke took out his ’link, walked away.

“Still want eyes and ears on you,” Feeney told her.

“Fine.” She stuck her hands in her pockets as she tracked Roarke out of the room.

“You keep them on, unless you’re locked up in that fortress you live in, or you’re working toward getting your hands on some billions.”

“What . . .” It struck her. “Jesus, Feeney.”

“You started it. I’ll start setting it up.”

“I want two officers on you at all times. That starts now,” Whitney added.

“McNab and I will take tonight.”

“They’ve seen you,” Eve reminded Peabody.

“They won’t make me.”

Mira slipped out, waiting until Roarke put his ’link away.

“I’m going to apologize to you,” she began. “I couldn’t, in good conscience, keep my opinion to myself, even knowing how she’d react, what she’d do. But I’m sorry.”

“I’m obliged to accept what she does. What she is,” he added, reminding himself that she, in turn, accepted him. Hardly realizing he did so, he slid a hand into his pocket, found the button he carried there. That tiny piece of her. “That obligation started when I fell in love with her, and was sealed when I married her. Before you told her, I’d been engaged in a vicious internal debate about telling her myself.”

“I see.”

He held her gaze for a long moment. “I don’t know which side of me would’ve won.”

“I do. You’d have told her, then had your argument over her reaction in private.”

“I expect you’re right.”

“What troubles you more? What she’s planning to do, or the fact that she’s in the position of doing it because her connection to you qualified her?”

“Toss-up. They have utter contempt for me, and enjoy letting it show. Just enough. I suppose they think I’d be insulted, or have my feelings hurt.”

“As you said, they don’t understand you.”

“If they did, they’d have tried to kill her already. They think killing her will inconvenience me, certainly disrupt my personal and professional lives for a bit, cause me some distress.”

He turned the button in his fingers. “They’d enjoy all of that. If they knew losing her would destroy me in levels they can’t imagine, they’d cut her into pieces and bathe in her blood.”

“No.” Eve spoke from the doorway. “No, they wouldn’t because I’m better than they are. They can’t beat me, and they sure as hell can’t beat us. Can you give us a minute?” she asked Mira.

“Yes.” She touched Roarke’s arm before she went back inside the conference room.

“Do you really think those two trust-fund fuckwits could take me down?”

Oh aye, he thought, her ego was healthy enough—so was her temper. But by God, so was his. “Think, no. But neither would I have thought those two trust-fund fuckwits could or would murder nine people or more, and have the NYPSD chasing their tails.”

“Chasing our . . .” Fury erupted. He’d have sworn his skin singed in the hot flow of its lava. “Is that what you call this? Is that what you call putting a solid case together in under a week? Making connections that tie them up out of sweat and sleepless nights and solid, consistent police work? Chasing our tails?”

“So solid a case you’re about to paint a target on your back rather than trust that solid case and police work.”

“This is police work, goddamn it. This is the job, and you know it. You knew it from the jump, and if you can’t back me when—”

“Stop there,” he warned her. “I haven’t said I wouldn’t back you, but I won’t be pushed into it.”

“I don’t have time to ease into it, to debate and discuss. I didn’t put it together, and I should have. I didn’t see it until Mira pointed it out, and it should’ve been flashing like fucking neon in my brain. I’ll know who their next target is if it’s me, and I won’t have to stand over somebody else I couldn’t save.”

“I understand that, and you, very well.” Christ, he was tired. He couldn’t remember when he’d last been so bloody knackered. “Do you really expect me to have no concerns, no worries, no dark thoughts? Reverse it. I’m putting myself up as bait. What do you do?”

“I trust you enough to know you can and will handle yourself, and use the resources you have available to ensure your own safety.”

“Eve, please don’t stand there and shovel that bullshit at my feet. These are good shoes.”

She hissed out a breath, but at the end of it he saw the chip on her shoulder tumble off. “Okay, I would trust you, but I’d also have some concerns, worries, and dark thoughts. And you’d be sorry I did. You’d hate that I did.”

“All right.”

She squinted at him. “All right? That’s it?”

“I had a bigger and considerably more vicious fight with you before, in my head. It was passionate, fierce, and very, very loud.”

“Who won?”

He had to touch her, just a skim of his fingertip down the little dent in her chin. “We hadn’t quite got there, but since we’ve finished it here, I like to think we both have.”

“I meant what I said in there, which I shouldn’t have said in front of Whitney. I can’t have another face on that board.” He watched her face change, watched her let him see what was inside.

“The ones on there now, I couldn’t stop it; I couldn’t save them. But if there’s another, I own it, because I know I have the tools to stop it. To make the best possible effort to stop it.”

“And the warrants aren’t enough?”

“I had to believe it to sell it, so I did. I still do, almost clear through.” She looked away for a moment. “But there’s that fraction, that percentage that maybe they’ve covered everything, that we won’t find enough to charge them—or we’ll charge them, indict them, and that fleet of high-priced lawyers will find enough little holes to spring them. I’m hedging my bets, and I’ve got a couple other ideas that should add more edge. You could help me with them.”

“I suppose I could.”

“Do you know where they’re going to be tonight?”

“They’re attending the ballet, at the Strathmore Center.”

“Can you score us tickets?”

“We have a box. They are, however, meeting for drinks at Lionel’s before the performance.”

“That’ll work even better.” She took his hand, linked fingers. “Let me lay it out for you.”

He had to admit, she’d slapped together an interesting and inventive scenario in very short order. He refined it a bit, and felt as confident as he could.

“I’m going to give Reo another thirty. She should’ve finished talking to her boss by then. I’ll need to brief the team.”

“They’re meeting at seven. That gives you time for an hour’s sleep. Not negotiable,” he said before she objected. “And not on the damn floor. There have to be cots at least in your infirmary.”

“I hate the infirmary.”

“Suck it up,” he advised.

“Mira has a big couch in her session room. I’ll ask if I can use it.”

“Make it we. I could use a lie-down myself.”

She slept like the dead woman a couple of rich guys wanted her to be, then contacted Reo. Again.

“Tell me you’ve got it.”

“I told you I’d contact you when I did. Didn’t I tell you the boss thinks Judge Dwier’s the best hit on this?” The testy edge of frustration came through loud and clear. “No known connections with either family, solid reputation, open-minded, and so on and so on, and didn’t I tell you Judge Dwier is fly-fishing in Montana?”

“And didn’t I say go with another choice?”

“Don’t tell us our jobs. The PA’s talking to the judge right now. He’s walking him through it, and my sense is we’re nearly there. We’re ninety percent there.”

“Close enough. When you’ve got it, tag Baxter. He’ll head up that end.”

“Where are you going to be?”

“I’m going to meet a couple guys at a bar.”

She clicked off as Feeney came in. “Gotta suit you up.”

“I can do that.” Roarke walked in behind him, carrying a silver garment bag. “She’ll need to change anyway.”

“Into what?” Eve demanded.

“Appropriate attire. Your con will be more convincing if you’re dressed for an evening out.”

“I’ll test you out when you’re attired.” With a snort, Feeney strolled out.

“Strip it off, Lieutenant,” Roarke told her. He shut and locked the door.

“I need to be able to carry my weapon.”

“I said appropriate attire.” He unzipped the bag.

The dress was short, simple, and black. But it came with a hip-skimming jacket that fastened up the front with a lot of fancy loops.

“Somebody could kill me five times before I got that jacket undone and drew my weapon.”

Roarke simply demonstrated by tugging the jacket open. “The loops are for show.”

“Not bad. Not bad at all.” When she peeled off her clothes, Roarke fixed on the recorder, the mic, the earpiece. “Where’d the dress come from?”

“Your closet. I had Summerset bring it down. Along with the accessories.” He held up diamond earrings. “They’ll see these, believe me, and won’t give a single thought to the possibility you’re wired. And switch your wrist unit for the evening one.”

She gave it, all that fire and ice, a dubious glance. “I haven’t really played with that one.”

“It works the same way as your everyday. You can carry a clutch piece in this bag—though not much else. Add the shoes.”

They were hot murder red with heels that made her arches twinge when she looked at them. “How am I supposed to run in those?”

He gave her a quick, amused look. “Are you planning on running?”

“You never know.” But she dressed, and added the murderous shoes. “Appropriate?”

“You’re perfect.” He framed her face with his hands. “Perfect for me.”

“We’re supposed to be pissed at each other, remember. You need to get in character.”

“I never have a problem acting pissed at you.” When he grinned, he brushed his lips over hers. He laid his forehead to hers briefly at the knock on the door, then crossed over to answer.

“Peabody, you look lovely.”

“Thanks.” She lifted her hands, palms up to Eve. “Well?”

She also wore black, young and funky, with a brightly striped sleeveless vest that covered her sidearm. With her hair done in crazed corkscrew curls, her eyes lined in emerald green, and her lips as red as Eve’s shoes, Eve was forced to agree.

“You’re right. They won’t make you.”

“McNab and I are heading out now so we’ll already be in place when the subjects get there. Detective Carmichael and the new guy will take the ballet. Baxter’s waiting for the go, then he’ll have both search units move in.”

“Good work, Peabody.”

“See you at the bar.”

“She’s juiced,” Eve commented. “She took a booster earlier, but this is just juice. Because we’re close, because we’re going to bring them in before much longer. Bring them in, sweat them, break them. End it.”

“Someone else is juiced.”

“Bet your ass, ace.” She did a couple of squats and pivots to see how the dress cooperated. “Can you tell I’m loaded? The weapon,” she elaborated when he smiled at her.

“I can. They won’t. You know, I’m starting to enjoy this whole business myself.”

“Wait till I unload on them.” She tore open the jacket, pulled her weapon. Slapped it back in its harness. “You’re going to get a serious charge.”

They walked into the elegant lounge with its deep ruby and rich sapphire tones in what appeared to be a low-voiced continuation of an argument. When Roarke cupped her elbow, she deliberately jerked it away, let her voice spike up.

“Don’t try to placate me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. Two,” he said to the hostess who, admirably, kept her face blank and polite. “Roarke.”

“Yes, sir, of course. I have your booth ready. Just this way.”

“You know the kind of pressure I’m dealing with,” Eve continued, keeping her eyes on Roarke. “The commander’s setting up permanent residence on my ass.”

“It would be a lovely change of pace if we could spend one bloody evening not discussing your commander, your problems. Whiskey,” he told the hostess. “A double.”

“And for you, madam?”

“Head Shot, straight up.”

Roarke leaned into her as if murmuring something, and she jerked back. “Because I need it, that’s why. Look, I’m here, aren’t I? Which is more than you’ll be tomorrow since you’re leaving town. Again.”

“I have work, and responsibilities, Eve.”

“So do I.”

“Yours don’t put toys like this on your ears,” he said and gave one of her earrings a flick of his finger.

“I earn those other ways, and don’t you forget—” She broke off as if just spotting Dudley and Moriarity. “Oh, that’s perfect. That’s just fucking perfect.”

“Keep your voice down.”

“Don’t tell me what to do. I’m sick of orders. I’m the top murder cop in this goddamn city, and I’m getting zip from the department on this, and less than zip from you. Well, fuck that. I’m getting some of my own, and right now.”

She shoved out of the booth, and he timed his lunge to stop her seconds too late.

She had to admit striding the few short feet to the next booth in the killer red heels felt powerful.

“You think I’m stupid?”

“Lieutenant Dallas.” All concerned charm, Dudley reached for her hand. “You seem upset.”

“You touch me and I’ll haul you in for assaulting an officer.” She slapped her palms on the table between them, leaned in. “I know you killed Delaflote and Jonas, probably the others, too, but those I know.”

“I think you must be drunk,” Moriarity said, very quietly.

“Not yet. Believe me when I tell you I’ll make a case. I don’t care how long it takes or what it takes. You’re not going to beat me at my own game. This is what I do.”

“Eve.” Roarke stepped up to her, gripped her arm. “Stop this. We’re leaving.”

“Your wife seems very upset and not a little deranged.” Dudley smiled. “You don’t appear to be able to control her.”

“Nobody controls me, asshole. You want to leave.” She turned on Roarke. “Fine. Go. Why don’t you just go wherever you’re shuttling off to right now instead of tomorrow and get off my back?”

“That’s an excellent idea. Gentlemen, my sincere apologies. You can get yourself home,” he said to Eve.

“I’ll get there, when I’m good and ready.” As Roarke walked out, she spun back to the booth. “The department won’t give me the money to go full-out on you two. Screw them. He’ll give it to me.” She jerked her head in the direction Roarke had taken. “I know how to get what I want. The PA may not have the balls to give me a go now, but give me time. I close cases. I’ll close this.”

She grabbed one of the drinks on the table, tossed back a swallow before slamming it down again. “Did you think I wouldn’t see? Using your people as dupes, covering each other’s ass while the other one gets the kill in? You both knew the last two victims, and I’ll find how you knew the first two. I’m the hot breath on your neck.”

“You’re making a fool of yourself,” Moriarity told her—but his gaze shifted to Dudley’s.

“Like Delaflote made a fool out of the Dudleys when he was nailing Winnie’s mommy?” She bared her teeth in a smile. “Oh, yeah, I know. I know a lot. Nearly there, boys. Nearly time to pay the bill.”

“Madam.” The hostess came over, eyes full of apologies for the men. “I have to ask you to leave.”

“No problem. I can find better places to drink than a dump that serves scum like these two. Drink up,” she told both men. “They don’t serve fancy liquor in the cages you’re going to be in within forty-eight. And that’s just where I’m going to put you. You can bet on it.”

Eve almost wished she wore a cape so she could’ve swirled it as she stormed out of the room.

She kept storming a block north, turned, and kept the pace another half a block. Feeney opened the back of the e-van. She hopped in, yanked off the shoes. “How’d I do?”

“If I was married to you, I’d be divorced.”

Roarke took her hand, kissed it. “She’s a bitch, but she’s my bitch.”

She tapped her ear. “Peabody reports they’re in intense conversation. It looks to her like Dudley’s trying to convince Moriarity, is pushing a point.”

“I can hear her.” Roarke tapped in turn. “You’re not the only one with ears.”

“Oh. That was a good idea, putting it out you’d be gone tonight. They’re going to want to make their move.”

She turned her wrist when her com signaled. “Check this,” she said to Feeney. “Dallas.”

“Reo pulled it off,” Baxter told her. “We got the warrants.”

“Don’t go in yet. Give them some time. If this worked, one or both of them is going to show up at one of the houses or one of the HQs where they have private quarters. They need to get the weapon. Let them come and go. No longer than ten minutes in. It’s over that, move in. I don’t want to have spooked them into ditching any evidence, but if we take them in with a weapon, we’re going to add attempted on a police officer. That’s the icing on the cupcake.”

“We’re on hold.”

“Seems a shame to waste the performance,” she said to Roarke. “Damn it.” She scowled at Peabody’s voice in her ear. “They’re ordering another drink. Maybe they’re not going to bite after all. Stick with them,” she ordered Peabody, then answered the com again. “What?”

“Movement at the Moriarity house. It’s the droid, Dallas, the same droid we have going into the Frost/Simpson house.”

She shook her head in wonder. “God, they are idiots. They didn’t destroy the droid, and odds are he’ll bring them the weapon. I want a team on that droid. I want to know where it goes, what it does. When it’s clear of the house, move in. All locations.”

She rubbed her bare foot. “They bit.”

“I believe they did,” Roarke commented.