Page 41 of Passions in Death
“You’ll be real surprised if you don’t move your hand and I show you one of my ways to relieve stress.”
He lifted his hand, held them both up, and added an easy smile. “I apologize. I’m a touchy-feely.”
“Huh. I sensed that. I must have some sensitivity, too. Thanks for your time and cooperation.”
“Lieutenant,” he said as she started out, “I didn’t get your first name.”
“I don’t find my first name necessary for this.” With a mental eye roll, she kept going.
The brick shithouse now worked some poor schmuck through a circuit on the machines. She gave Eve a once-over. “Not flushed, not starry-eyed. Guess Wade struck out with you. But you didn’t arrest him.”
“Maybe next time.” She paused a moment. “Has he ever been violent, overly pushy?”
“I gotta speak truth. Just no. You give him the back-off signal, he backs right off. There’s plenty of others who want a ride on the magic cock, and he knows it. He’s a dog, right, but he don’t bite.”
“Yeah, I got that.”
Holding up a finger, Brick Shithouse turned to her client. “On the pad, Paulie. And give me twenty. I could help you bulk up,” she said to Eve, “put some muscle on.”
Amused, Eve stepped over to the weight rack, picked up a twenty-five, and did ten smooth biceps curls.
“My mistake.”
“A lot of people make it.” Eve replaced the weight and walked out.
As she walked back to the parking lot, Eve tagged Peabody.
“On my way back to the car.”
“I’m just leaving—in a minute.”
“Then meet me at Angie Decker’s. They should be back from the morgue.”
“I’ll head there. Any luck with Rajinski?”
“Got an alibi to check, but it’s going to. He’s a horndog with not too many smarts and a magic cock. He’s not our guy.”
“How do you know about the magic cock?”
“I have it on good authority. And if you bought something in that place—and you did—I don’t want to hear about it.”
“I’ll just say it didn’t interfere with or affect my interview. I wouldn’t mind hearing more about the magic cock.”
“Get to Decker’s.”
She actively considered continuing the walk to Decker’s, but had to admit she’d waste time. And it proved the right decision when she found a parking spot half a block from the building.
Pleased with her luck, she strolled down to a corner cart and ordered soy fries and a tube of Pepsi.
“You’re eating.” Peabody, huffing just a little, stopped beside her.
“I had to wait for you, so it passed the time.”
“Veggie dog,” Peabody ordered. “Mustard, Diet Pepsi. Rierdon didn’t ring bells,” she told Eve. “But he doesn’t have an alibi. He’s in a relationship—two months in—and the woman he’s seeing teaches salsa on Monday nights. I confirmed. He grabbed takeaway, a gyro, on the way home, also confirmed. Got home about seven, had a beer.”
She took the dog, paid. “Thanks. Ate the gyro,” she continued, “watched some screen, had another beer, and crashed by eleven.”
As they walked back, she munched on the dog. “He was up front. Shauna ended things before he was ready, so he was a little pissed and didn’t want the whole we-can-be-friends deal Shauna did. Hasn’t had a real relationship again until this one. He didn’t know Erin Albright, but he’d heard through mutual friends that Shauna was involved there, then engaged there.
