Connections in Death (In Death, #48)- J. D. Robb Page 0,35
to her.”
“How much did you give her?”
Peabody sighed. “Twenty. I know it’s pissing in the wind, but—”
“No, it’s not. She’ll get a couple of decent meals out of it.” And some rotgut, Eve thought, but why say so? “Put in a chit for it.”
“Thanks, but it was personal. I liked her. She called me Officer Puppy. She said I have puppy eyes.”
“She’s not far off. And we’re not far off from Banger HQ. Let’s go chat with Jones.”
“Saying he didn’t order the hit on Pickering,” Peabody began as they walked back to the car. “Could he have ordered this one? Payback for her part of Pickering?”
“The timing’s off, unless he found out before we told him. If we’d found her floating in the East River, or with her throat slit well inside or well outside Banger territory, I’d lean harder that way. The beat cop says the kill zone’s neutral territory, and the kill violates the code. The kind of violation that can start a gang war.”
As Eve settled behind the wheel Peabody considered. “Maybe he wants one. He wants more territory, and there’s nothing like blood and war to cement a commander’s cred.”
“I’d lean harder that way if we didn’t know he has business interests that could end up burned out or attacked in a war. The beat cop gave me a pretty clear idea of the politics. And I’ve got a tag in to Detective Strong to see what she knows or can find out about the illegals trade on Banger turf.”
“She’ll dig in. She’s a good one. Maybe the Dragons worked this to put Jones and the Bangers on the hot seat. Tie them up with cops, erode power. You hit their HQ last night, and we’re going back this morning. That seat’s pretty hot.”
“I could lean there. But . . .” She pulled to the curb near Banger HQ. “Pickering strikes as personal. So he’s turned his back on the gang,” she added as they got out of the car. “And that might earn a slap, a threat, or a beating followed by derision, not a hit. He went inside and didn’t name names, didn’t give up his gang family. That earns serious cred. You’d think enough to buy him safety.”
At the door, she repeated the secret knock. The one who opened it gave her the hard eye. “Got a warrant?”
Not as easy a mark as the one the night before, Eve calculated. More muscle than fat, a tat of a snake coiling over his shaved head. And a look of at least average intelligence in that hard eye.
“We need to talk to Slice.”
“He ain’t receiving visitors today. Especially cunt cops.”
“Why don’t you let him know Lieutenant Dallas is here, see what he says?”
“Fuck you.”
When he started to shut the door, she slammed her shoulder against it. The force, and the surprise, took him back a couple steps. She didn’t figure that would last.
“Fine. I’ll just tag the PA’s office for that warrant. My partner and I will take a stroll around the block.”
“A nice day for a stroll,” Peabody added.
“Yeah. And when we get back, we’ll haul Marcus Jones—that’s Slice, by the way—into Cop Central, for an interview on suspicion of murder. Two counts.”
“Bullshit, bitch.”
She pulled out her ’link, keyed in. “Yeah, Reo,” she began as she strolled away. “I need a warrant. Actually two,” she continued, letting her voice carry back. “The first a search and seizure.”
“Try it, bitch!” he called out. “You’ll end up bloody.”
Deliberately, she stopped, turned back to face the door guard. “Make that three. Might as well have one ready for obstruction and assault on a police officer. What’s your name, asshole?”
“Fuck you!”
He slammed the door.
“So, Reo.”
“I’m barely into my first cup of at-the-office coffee,” Reo complained. “And somebody’s already yelling fuck you.”
“Well, I’ve got two bodies in under twelve hours, had a trip to the underground, and I’m currently exchanging insults with the door guard at the Banger HQ in the Bowery.”
“Okay, you win.” Reo, a classy blonde and fierce litigator with a hint of magnolia rolled her eyes. “You’re looking to search and seize at Banger HQ? And anticipating an altercation?”
“It might come to that. Let’s give it a minute. So . . .” Eve dug for small talk. “How are things?”
On the ’link screen, Reo stared. “You’re asking me ‘how are things’?”
“I’m killing a minute. It’s the small talk. I say, how are things. You say, good or they blow. I say, great or, gee, that sucks.