Shadows in Death (In Death #51) - J.D. Robb Page 0,30
justice for Galla.”
“And you can. Do you need transportation?”
“We have our own.”
Eve rose. “Detective Peabody will escort you out.”
Antonio got to his feet. “I can thank you for your kindness, and I do. But I don’t care about kindness from you now. I want your fierceness.”
“You’ll have it.” When they left, Eve studied Cobbe on-screen. “And so will you.”
When she walked into Homicide, she gestured for Peabody to follow her into her office.
“They’re a good family,” Peabody commented. “The kid’s going to be okay with them.”
“Unless we really fuck this up, he’ll be with them by dinnertime. Tween paid Salvadore Bellacore ten thousand on March twenty-fourth.”
“Well, kick my ass! I don’t want to jinx it but this is almost too easy.”
“Cobbe’s a different fish in the kettle.”
“It’s a different kettle of fish.”
“Neither one makes any sense.” Eve sat at her desk, pressed the heel of her hand to her temple.
“You okay?”
“Half a headache. Any one of them does something different, she’s still alive. But you can’t say that, and anyway, any one of them does something different, she could still be dead because she fell in the shower or something.”
Peabody turned to the AutoChef, hit menu, programmed what wouldn’t be ignored by her lieutenant.
“We’re having pepperoni pizza because we’re both hungry, and we need to be sharp and focused to take this asshole down.”
“I need to write this up.”
“I can do it.”
“No, I need you to contact Child Services, get somebody who’s not a dick, and make sure any paperwork will be expedited when we lock the asshole up so we can get the kid to his family.”
“I can do that.” She put a slice and a tube of Pepsi on Eve’s desk. She eyed the visitor’s chair, then decided to have her own slice standing up.
“We can throw Italians, or Interpol or whoever works best, at Bellacore. It’s a nice exchange.” Eve checked her incomings for anything from Whitney.
Not yet.
Even as she finished the slice, thought maybe she could go for another, she got an incoming from Reo.
“Defense asked for and was granted a recess until ten tomorrow. I’m putting the warrants through, and on my way to Central.”
“Copy that,” Eve answered. “Arrest warrant: conspiracy to commit murder, murder in the first.”
“Solid on that?”
“Solid. Briefing in my office on arrival. We got him cold.”
Headache gone, or almost, Eve swiveled in the chair. “Get a couple of female officers to execute the warrant and bring him in.”
“Females specifically?”
“Fucker used a woman to advance his career, social status, and line his pockets. Then he had her gutted. Female cops? He’ll consider it more of an insult. It’s petty, but I feel petty.”
“I’ll get on it, but I have to finish this. If I go out there with even a piece of pizza crust, it might start a riot. We’re going for the gold with Tween?”
“That’s right, because we’ll plead it down.”
On a cough, Peabody thumped a fist to her chest. “I almost choked on my last bite of pizza. You want to plead it down?”
“We start with two consecutive life sentences, off-planet. We give them room to take it down to concurrent, possible parole in thirty, if he not only flips on Cobbe but gives information that leads to Cobbe’s arrest. He’s an asshole, and deserves to spend his life in a cage. He’s also weak, and the possibility of getting out in thirty, still having some kind of life? He’ll take it. We get Cobbe out of it, or he does it all.”
Eve downed some Pepsi. “And that doesn’t address additional charges, after the thirty, which the alphabets may hit him with. I can live with it.”
She swiveled back. “Go.”
Eve hammered out a report, adding the payment to the broker as well as the timing of it, the known details of the will, the corroboration of the affair, its ending.
Reo walked in as she sent it.
“I smell pizza. Why did I scarf down a street dog on my way here? I still have room for decent coffee.”
“Get it. Sit. Take the desk.” Eve rose to vacate it. She remembered her tube of Pepsi, retrieved it.
She briefed Reo as she added Bellacore’s ID shot to her board.
“Well, well, well, when you said solid, you meant it. He’s not going to be able to explain those payments away. You don’t have ID on the numbered account in Andorra?”
“If it can be got, Roarke’ll get it. The timing of all three payments is going to choke the bastard. And I can guarantee the