Page 146 of Treachery in Death

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RENEE WALKED THROUGH CENTRAL TO TAKE care of business. She wanted a long, hot bath—with the oils she’d bought on her last trip to Italy. And one of her bottles of wine from the vineyard she’d invested in.

She could soak while she toasted Strong’s disgrace and probable imprisonment—and most important, most gratifyingly, the demise of Lieutenant Eve Dallas.

Sentimental bitch wore a wedding ring, she recalled. Interesting piece, unique design. That would be a perfect item to pass to the scapegoat she had in mind—a particularly violent chemi-head who would pawn it at the first opportunity.

It would be easy to pin Dallas’s murder on him, and Garnet’s.

Loose ends snipped, she thought as she got off the elevator on her floor. Better, she’d find a way to be the arrow that pointed the investigators to the goat. That would erase any lingering tinge from the Garnet/ Strong problem, and very likely give her a little boost toward those captain bars.

Really, things were working out even better than she planned.

She breezed through the night-security glow of the squad room, unlocked her office. She called for lights and went straight to the portrait.

“Screw you and everything you stand for.”

She lifted the frame, then spun around at the sound behind her.

Eve swiveled the chair around, smiled. “That’s not a nice way to talk to your father, Renee. Gosh, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“What are you doing in my office? My locked office? You have no right—”

“You’re fast on your feet. I’ll give you that. Faster than the dogs you sicced on me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Please, Renee, they rolled all over you. Marcell was crying for a deal before we had the cuffs on him, and Palmer wasn’t far behind. And even without that?” Eve reached out, tapped her recorder.

Renee’s voice filled the room, arranging for Eve’s death, for Lilah’s.

“Detective Strong’s fine, by the way. Freeman? Not really. He’s pondering his options from a cage right now, like the pitiful pair you ordered to kill me. So’re Armand, Bix, Manford, and at last count five more of your motley crew. You are so completely fucked.”

“You’re bluffing, or you wouldn’t be here alone. So I believe I’ll just contact—”

Eve drew her weapon, aimed it at the middle button of Renee’s power suit jacket. “You’re going to want to pull that piece out very slowly, then set it on the desk and step away. I know you’ve never terminated anyone. Never so much as fired that weapon in your bag or any other—at least not on record. I have, and trust me when I say I wouldn’t hesitate to put you on the ground.”

Renee threw the purse on the desk. “You think you’ve won this? You think I can’t fix this?”

“That’s right. I think I’ve won this. I think you can’t fix this.”

“You haven’t; and I will. It’s your head that’ll roll.”

Not panicked, Eve noted. Pissed. Hoping to give the temper another boost, Eve put a laugh on her face.

“Really? You tried for Strong twice, once with Bix, then with Freeman. Didn’t do so well, did you? Now you think you can take me?”

“She got lucky with Bix. He never misses.”

“He killed Keener—but Keener was a weak junkie. And Garnet. But Garnet was his partner and trusted him. I’d say that makes Bix lucky. They all trusted you, didn’t they, Renee? As far as any of their type can trust. Are you so sure Bix will do what you tell him when he’s looking at life in a concrete cage?”

“He’ll do exactly what I tell him, and say exactly what I tell him. That’s how you command men.”

“Yeah, it takes a lot of balls to tell a man like Bix to slit his own partner’s throat, to stick poison in a junkie’s arm.”

“It takes foresight, vision, brains to develop someone like Bix so he’ll do just that on command. None of your people would do for you what Bix has done, and will do, for me.”

“You’re right about that.”

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