Page 53 of Obsession in Death

“I help you, you help me. It’s what friends do. And really good cops and really good reporters. Tell me what you can, and I’ll work on it—on my own,” she added. “I may not be on sexcation, but I’m not back at work, officially. Just me—no team.”

Eve thought longingly of the real coffee in her office—but she wasn’t taking Nadine there. Not this round.

“We have a second vic.”

“Another?” Nadine dived in the zebra again, pulled out a notepad and pencil. “No recorder—pen and paper—and nobody can read my notes. Name?”

“Ledo, Wendall.”

“Connection to Bastwick?”

“None known. Smallest of small-time illegals dealer. Lived and worked in the Square.”

“As far away from Bastwick as it gets. How was he killed?”

“A really good reporter could find that out.”

“Fine. Connection to you—unless you want me to dig for it.”

“Occasional source, largely unwilling. Last altercation he accidentally smacked me with his cue stick—which I’d broken over some other asshole’s skull.”

“I see, just another day in the life.” Nadine raised her eyes. “Are you telling me somebody killed him because he knocked you with a cue stick?”

“That’s how it reads.”

“Did the killer leave another message?”

“Yeah.”

“What did it say?”

“It’s enough for you to know it ran along the same lines as the first.”

“I can help more if— Hang on.” Once again she reached in the bag, pulled out her ’link. Hissed, then looked back at Eve. “I set an alert. It just blew.”

“Shit.”

“Tell me what you can while you can—and what I can green-light.”

“I can’t—” She broke off to pull out her own ’link. “Media liaison,” she told Nadine. “Dallas, privacy mode. Yeah.” She paced as she listened, paced as she gave short, terse responses. “Nadine Furst is here, with me. I know it. We want to keep this straight, this is how. I know that, too. Okay. Yes. Jesus, Kyung, remember how I said you’re not an asshole? Well, I’m not a moron. I’ll tell her.”

She shoved the ’link back in her pocket. “He’ll tag you in two minutes, give you what can be given—from an unnamed source at the NYPSD.”

“I can work with that.”

“You can use the room till you’re done. I have to go.”

“All right. Hey, hey. Dallas.”

Eve turned, snapped, “What?”

“Watch your six.”

Eve blinked. “You’re standing there in shiny boots that come up to your crotch and carrying a zebra, and telling me to watch my six.”

“Bruno’s into military thrillers. It’s the lingo.”

“I know what it is. Watch your six,” Eve repeated, and for some reason left the room lighter.

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