Page 30 of Treachery in Death

“Okay.”

“She’s on planet, on holiday. We had a meeting scheduled for next week before her return, but she’s come to New York early. She’d like to see Cop Central, and you.”

“I’m a little pressed right now.”

“And I could hardly tell her you’re busy launching an investigation on a ring of dirty cops, could I?”

Eve shoved her hands in her pockets. “No. Guess not.”

“Her main plan is to have a longer holiday in New York. I’ll meet with her, take her to lunch or for drinks. But it’s natural for her to want a look at your house, and to reconnect with you. You did work together, and well enough, during our little interlude on Olympus.”

“Yeah, yeah. Okay.” She considered, weighed, then nodded. “Maybe I can use it to my advantage. Once this rolls nobody who’s sniffing is going to think I’d be spending time giving tours and having a girl-cop chat if I were tied into an internal investigation.”

“I imagine, when it’s all said and done, she’ll be pleased to have been useful. I’ll take care of the tip. Five minutes.”

“Good enough.” She walked back into her office. “We’ll have the tip in five,” she told Peabody. “I’ll tag you on your ’link, tell you I’m swinging by to pick you up at your place to follow up on the tip. Could be nothing, so we won’t inform Dispatch as yet. McNab, you need to get yourself to Central by your usual means. By the time you do, Whitney will have briefed Feeney. I want filters on all our electronics. Something that will not only show if anyone attempts a hack, but prevent one.”

“We can do that,” McNab assured her. “I’d go to the bank that Roarke already has filters and shields on everything in here. A couple minutes in Roarke’s comp lab, and I can fix your pocket ’link, and Peabody’s.”

“We’ll get to that after the tip. Speaking of which,” she said when hers signaled. “He’s fast, you have to give it to him.” She held up a finger for silence. “Dallas.”

“Don’t use my name! Got me?” The voice was garbled, panty, and would never be mistaken for Roarke’s.

“I got you.”

“Somebody did him. Old Juicy. Did him bad, man, left him swimming in puke.”

“Who’s Juicy?”

“Juicy’d never pop heavy, man. They did him. The ones he was scared of. Fucker’s dead.”

“You’re stoned, you asshole. Don’t waste my time.”

“Got stoned for Juicy. You gotta get him, Dallas, see? It ain’t right. Stuffed him in the fucking tub. I ain’t just doing weasel for you, Dallas. It’s for Juicy.”

The record would show her scowl, replay the warning in her voice. “Give me where, but if I don’t find a body, I’m hunting you down and kicking your ass.”

“You find him.” The voice mumbled out an address. “Poor old Juicy. You get me my twenty, right? I get my twenty.”

“If I find a body, you get your twenty. If I don’t, better find a hole.” She clicked off, then walked to the door connecting her office with Roarke’s. “How did you do that?”

“Oh, just a little voice-exchange program I’ve been working on. I used a blend of two actors in a couple of drug vids.” He grinned, showing her he’d enjoyed himself. “Interesting, isn’t it?”

“Hmm. You’re up, Peabody,” Eve said, and moved to step two.

“It seems kind of silly when I’m standing right here.”

“By the numbers.”

After the brief exchange Eve tossed her ’link to McNab. “Do your geek thing, then get down to Central—business as usual.”

“I can give you a lift partway, Ian,” Roarke said from the doorway.

“Iced. Give me a shake first.”

“I’ll go with you,” Peabody told him, “get the ’links when you’ve done your magic. Meet you downstairs, Dallas. Thanks for everything, Roarke. Totally everything.”

“Don’t take him all the way,” Eve began when Peabody followed McNab out of the room.

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