Page 81 of Treachery in Death

“About Garnet—”

“You don’t want to go there.”

“I have to.” Renee spread her hands in appeal. “I’m his lieutenant. He was absolutely and completely in the wrong. There’s no excuse.”

“Fine, we agree. Subject closed.”

“Do you ever bend?” Renee snapped. “He lost his temper. You were in his face, and he lost his temper. He’s put a lot of OT in on the investigation, done miles of legwork. He was on edge, and the confrontation with you pushed him over.”

“He damn near knocked me over,” Eve reminded her.

“And that’s regrettable. You have my file, and you know how essential he is to closing this case. I’m asking you for a little consideration. I’m asking you to let me discipline my own man, my own way. You can’t tell me you’ve never had one of yours snap back at you, or another superior officer.”

“If one of my men behaved in the way yours did today, I’d write him up myself. And I wouldn’t make excuses for him, much less whine about needing him on an investigation he’s obviously too strung out to work efficiently.”

Eve watched Darcia step into the pub as Renee’s hand fisted on the table.

Well shit,” Webster muttered when Darcia moved into the range of the monitor. “What are the odds?”

Roarke arched an eyebrow at Webster’s reaction. “Very attractive, isn’t she? The sultry brunette. She’s Darcia Angelo, Chief of Police on Olympus.”

“Yeah. We’ve met.”

“Really?” Roarke’s smile spread slowly as he added two and two into four. “This just gets more and more interesting.”

“Christ” was Webster’s opinion. “I’m really going to want that beer.”

In the pub, Darcia wandered to the bar, shook her head at the bar-tender, and settled down to watch the table.

“I take responsibility,” Renee began.

“It’s a little late for that.”

“Goddamn it. I do need Garnet. You pushed. He pushed back. He was wrong, and he’s earned a good, hard slap for it. I’ll give him one. Two weeks without pay after the investigation closes, and he’ll have to ride a desk for another two. I’m just asking you to pull the rip.”

Now Eve shifted, eased forward. “You’ve got the nerve to ask me for a solid when you stood there, did nothing, while your man insulted me, while he threatened me, while he struck out at me. And you want to give him a slap on the wrist for it—when it’s convenient for you? You dangle dinner with Dad at me to pave the way, like I’d sit up and say ‘yes, please.’ Your man’s a hothead, one with no respect for authority. Including yours. Nobody talks to me as he did today and walks away smiling. If he were mine, he’d get the boot.”

“He’s not yours.”

“Exactly.” Eve shrugged, sent a subtle signal to Darcia. “He’s your problem.”

13

“ THE COMMANDER ISN’T THE ONLY ONE I CAN speak to about this,” Renee said.

“Speak to whoever you want.” Eve added a shrug and a bored glance at her watch. “Garnet earned the rip. It stands. Hey, Darcia.”

“Dallas.” Darcia stopped at the table, beaming smiles. “Sorry, am I early? I’m interrupting.”

“No, you’re right on time. Chief Angelo, Lieutenant Oberman. The lieutenant and I are finished.”

“For the moment.” Her rage palpable, Renee shoved back from the table. She turned her back without acknowledging Darcia and stormed out with a sweep of hair and an angry click of heels.

“My, my, my.” After following the drama of the exit, Darcia turned back to Eve, batted her lashes. “Something I said?”

“No, it’s on me—and so, apparently, is her drink. Have a seat. Give me a second.” Eve pulled out her com, tagged Feeney. “She’ll be coming back to you. You might want to adjust your volume down a few notches, spare your ears the blast.”

“Copy that.”

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