In death 57 payback in.., p.16
In Death 57 - Payback in Death, page 16
Keep working backward chronologically, she told herself. But focus on the suicides. Maybe the wrong angle, maybe, but they had to be weighed and/or eliminated, so start there.
She’d take the suicides, divide the family connections who’d taken that route when their cop was dismissed or incarcerated.
Start filtering. The cop—if alive—had connections in New York. If incarcerated, someone connected managed to gain access to the Greenleafs. If previously incarcerated, the cop settled back in the city, or had those connections.
If dead, same deal.
But suicide played a part in the whole.
Probably.
She ran it, ran it, ran it, different angles, more theories as she fought morning traffic.
When she pulled into the garage, she’d worked out a general plan for the day.
She spotted him as she got out of the car. He’d obviously stood behind one of the pillars, waiting.
No cheap suit this time. Trousers, a black shirt. Add unshaven and unkempt, and a look in his eyes that said he’d found a bottle or two to spend the night with.
“Lansing, you’re only making it worse.”
“Worse for you without your bullpen of assholes around you.”
“Do you really think going for me is helping the captain?”
“I put you down, somebody else takes over. You’ve got Webster fooled, you may have Whitney fooled. But I know what you are.”
She gestured up. “Garage cams, Lansing. My own recorder, again. Don’t be an idiot. Walk away.”
“I’ll take my chances. Somebody like you has a badge and I don’t? That’s bullshit.”
She set as he started toward her. And they both heard the car pull in and squeal to an abrupt stop.
Baxter piled out of his ride. “What the fuck, Lansing?”
“Stay out of it, Baxter,” Eve snapped out.
“Dallas.”
“That’s an order.”
“He doesn’t bother me. Fancy suit, fancy ride.” Lansing’s lip curled. “Just another one of your assholes. I can take you both.”
When he got close enough, she smelled the boozy breath and figured he actually thought he could.
She let him take the first shot, and supposed he considered the solid backhand to the face an insult.
She tasted blood.
“Not just off the job,” she said as she blocked the next blow. “That’s going to put you in a cage.”
“I don’t fucking think so.”
She didn’t use the back of her hand, but her fist. He staggered back, then came in hard.
Even drunk and out of control, he landed a few. More than. When his fist connected with her left breast, the pain radiated straight through her.
Riding it, she spun into a back kick that knocked him back, followed with a cross jab that made her knuckles sting, then just swept his legs out from under him and put him on his ass.
“Stay down!”
As she reached back for her restraints, he pulled a clutch piece out of an ankle holster. The stream went wide, missed her, and hit the oncoming Baxter.
“Goddamn it!” She kicked the stunner out of his hand, yanked out her own. “You hit? Baxter, are you hit?”
“Yeah, but no.” Baxter planted a foot on the loose stunner, then opened his suit jacket as Eve slapped the cuffs on Lansing. “Magic lining. Let’s hear it for Thin Shield. Goddamn it, Dallas, he fucking used a weapon on a fellow officer.”
“He’s not an officer. He’s a drunk, shit-for-brains asshole. And you’re under arrest for assaulting an officer, for possession of a concealed weapon, for using same on an officer.”
“Fuck you, fuck you both.”
“Yeah, well, you’re the one who’s fucked. Baxter, do me a solid. Park that fancy ride of yours and take shit-for-brains up to Booking.”
“Sure. Your lip’s bleeding, LT, and you’ve got blood on your shirt.”
“Shit. Shit. Shit!”
“I’ve got a stain stick in my field kit. I can get it for you.”
“No, just take this fuckhead off my hands. And contact EDD, have them scoop up the security feed. Ask them to pick up my recorder. I need to talk to people.”
“Okay. You took a solid hit, you know.” He gestured to her breast.
“I’m aware. Park and deal. And you,” she said as Baxter jogged to his car. “You have the right to remain silent.”
After she read out the Revised Miranda, she left him to Baxter. Mira’s office first, she thought, for multiple reasons now.
“Lip’s bleeding,” some helpful uniform told her in the elevator.
She might’ve snarled, but her mouth already stung like wasps had held a playdate on it.
The admin was just setting up for the day. Eve thought: Give me any shit right now, be sorry for it.
Before she could speak, the admin’s eyes widened.
“Lieutenant! You’re hurt. What happened? Let me get you an ice pack. Do you need medical assistance?”
“I need a consult with Dr. Mira, as soon as possible.”
“She’ll be in any moment. Please, sit down. You’re bleeding.”
“I’m fine. Just give me a time, and I’ll make it work.”
They both heard the quick click of heels. Mira swept in, wearing a pale pink dress and matching hip-swinging jacket.
“Good morning. I— Oh God, Eve! What happened?”
“Lansing, in the garage, I need to speak with you about that and about my current investigation.”
“Come in, sit down. Hold my calls. Where is Lansing?” she demanded as she steered Eve into her office.
“Baxter’s taking him to Booking. He’s not right, just not right. He’d been drinking on top of it.”
“Sit down. I mean it.” As she spoke she strode to a cabinet, took out medical supplies. With a quick snap, she activated a cold pack. “Hold this on your jaw while I wand that lip.”
“Here’s better.” Eve pressed the pack to her breast. “Bastard punched me in the tit. Damn!”
“I know,” Mira murmured as she used the wand. “It’s going to sting at first. Just breathe.”
“Breathing. It’s not about Greenleaf with him. It may have started there, but he’s got some bug up his ass about me, particularly. Doesn’t matter, he’s going away for a while. He had a clutch piece and he shot a stream that hit Baxter. Had his piece on full. Son of a bitch wanted to do serious damage.”
“Dear God. Is Detective Baxter injured?”
“No. He was wearing the thing—the magic lining.”
“Ah, Thin Shield. Well, we all owe Roarke.”
“Lansing’s rep’s going to do what he can—that’s what reps are for. He would’ve appealed the termination, but that’s off the table now. They’ll call for a psych eval.”
“Of course. I’ll take that myself.”
Relieved, Eve closed her eyes. “Good. Okay. That’s enough with the wand, isn’t it?”
“There. For now. It’s going to be sore, and it’s still a bit swollen, but the wound’s closed. Bruising’s coming up on your jaw, and the swelling there. Keep breathing.”
“I never saw the fucker until yesterday. Anyway, I’ll report all this to Whitney, but I need to consult with you on the Greenleaf investigation.”
“Yes. I was so sorry to hear about his death.”
“Did you know him?”
“I did. He was a dedicated public servant. He had a hard, firm line, and not all agree with how and where he drew it.”
“Did you?”
“I respected his integrity and, when he felt it necessary to seek my advice, he respected mine. Use the pack on the jaw now, and let me see your breast.”
“It’s fine. Not the first time I’ve taken a hit there.”
Mira’s soft blue eyes could go very steely. “Have you forgotten I’m also a medical doctor? Let me see your other injuries and I won’t have to call for MTs.”
“Fine, fine.” Eve started to unbutton the shirt, winced as her knuckles ached.
“We’ll deal with your hands in a minute. I’m going to be very unprofessional and say I’m glad to see the state of your knuckles. It means you got plenty of hits in.”
Struggling against embarrassment, Eve shut her eyes. “I think I dislocated his jaw. Spin kick. It was a good one. Definitely busted his nose.”
“You’ve got considerable bruising here. I’m going to wand your breast. It’s going to hurt a little, but then ease. You’ll want to re-treat it every three to four hours.”
“Okay. I’m going to talk about the case. I’ll send you what I’ve got, but I’m hung up on the suicide ploy. Man! Jesus! Shit!”
It hurt. It fucking hurt.
“Keep breathing.”
“Right. Let me explain.”
She ran it through while Mira wanded, while the pain eased to a pulsing, rotted tooth kind of ache.
“I’ve run into him a handful of times in the last year or two,” Mira said as she worked. “I certainly saw no signs of suicidal tendencies. Anyone who knew him would have known he wasn’t a man to take that route.”
“They thought they could pull it off. I think the window was a mistake, or they just couldn’t get it locked before Webster came in. But killing him wasn’t retribution enough.”
“Smear his standing, further devastate his family. I want to review everything, but— There now, that’s enough for this round.”
“Thanks. It’s better.”
Rising, Mira walked back to the cabinet. This time she came back with a stain stick. “Let’s see what I can do about that shirt.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Eve began.
“Don’t be silly.” Kneeling, she began to work out bloodstains while Eve stared at her, perplexed.
“But,” Mira continued, “from your oral report, my first impression is the suicide ties in. I’ll review, as I said, but at this point I’d suggest you look for someone who’s connected—and emotionally connected—to a police officer Captain Greenleaf investigated. One who was relieved from duty, perhaps charged with a crime. But certainly one whose career in the NYPSD ended due to Greenleaf’s findings.
“I’m getting most of it out,” she muttered. “This former officer took his or her own life.”
“I was leaning there. But wonder if the IAB conclusions and consequences led someone connected—a spouse, a child—to self-terminate.”
“If so, I’d expect the killer to go after, or to have gone after, the spouse or a child. The captain would have come later, after he’d suffered that loss.”
“Okay.” She could see that. “Okay.”
“It’s a vendetta. Murdered with a service weapon, in his own home, leaving him—or planning to—for his spouse to find. Look for that in his case files.”
“All right. I’ll filter out the rest, for now, and focus there.”
“Proper attention will get the rest of the bloodstains out. A few stubborn ones, but they’re barely noticeable.”
“Summerset’ll notice. Trust me.”
Looking up now, Mira smiled. “You’ve had a hard landing home.”
“It’s the job. I appreciate the help. All of it.”
“You send me your data and I’ll be sending you reminders to rewand, and wand anywhere you didn’t tell me you’re hurt.”
Getting to her feet, Mira smoothed down the skirt of her pretty pink dress. “You could use a blocker.”
“Yeah, probably. The neighbors. I’ve already run them. Nothing pops. And no family connection with anyone on the list—so far anyway.”
With a smile, Mira laid a cool hand against Eve’s swollen jaw. “Family’s where you make it, isn’t it? Take that blocker.”
Family’s where you make it, Eve thought as she headed up to Homicide. She knew that better than most. Maybe better than any.
So she’d push on the suicide mirror, then work the connections.
But first, she had to ask for a meeting with Whitney, and she needed to get a spare recorder so she could turn hers over to EDD.
When she walked into Homicide, Jenkinson and his tie du jour—a supernova scattering fiery space debris over electric-blue space—lurched to his feet.
“Jesus, Jenkinson, I’ve got a fat lip and an aching jaw, now you want to burn my retinas?”
“Baxter said that fucking fuckhead fuck punched you in the tit. That he fucking aimed for it.”
“Christ.” She muttered it as she instinctively crossed her arms over her chest. “He got worse.”
“Fucking A. Tossed a fucking stream at Baxter.”
“All good,” Baxter said from his desk. “I got the magic. Lansing’s in a cage, LT, and crying lawyer.”
“Fucking coward” was Jenkinson’s opinion.
“And Whitney’s in your office.”
“Great. Terrific. Peabody, come in when the commander’s done.”
“I will. Are you okay?”
“I haven’t been in my office and I’ve been punched in the face, in the fucking tit. I’ve been wanded and cold-packed, and now I have to go over it all with the commander before I can do my damn job. I’ve been better.”
In her office, Whitney stood at her skinny window, his hands clasped behind his back. He turned, took a long look.
“Sit.”
“Sir, please take the desk chair.”
“I said sit.” And he jabbed a finger at the desk chair.
She sat.
He held up his PPC. “I’ve just reviewed the security footage from the garage.”
“Yes, sir. I need to turn my lapel recorder over to EDD.”
He simply held out a hand.
Eve removed the recorder, handed it to him.
“You tried to talk him down.”
“Yes, sir.”
“When Detective Baxter arrived, you ordered him to stand back.”
“Yes, sir. I didn’t see a weapon on Lansing, but I couldn’t be sure he didn’t have a clutch piece, which proved to be the case. I felt he wouldn’t use a weapon on me, not at that time. He wanted to use his hands.”
“Which you let him do. You let him take that first swing.”
“Commander, I could have drawn my own weapon and restrained him, but until he took that swing, it was talk. If I’d used aggressive tactics, I’d have no chance to de-escalate the situation. I pointed out that the garage security recorder, my own recorder was engaged. Baxter stood as a witness. And still he took the swing.”
“I’m getting coffee, for both of us.” He turned to her AC. “He’d been drinking.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And he laid in wait.”
“It appears so, sir. Commander. Thank you,” she said when he passed her coffee. “Commander, Lansing clearly has a personal issue with me. I don’t know what it is or why it is. It could be it just started yesterday when he assumed I’d shut down the Greenleaf investigation as suicide. And now he blames me for the loss of his badge. Whatever his issue, he’s lost all control. It didn’t matter to him that he’d pay a price for assaulting me—that it would clearly be recorded and witnessed as same. What mattered was paying me back.”
She sipped coffee, winced as the heat made her lip throb. But it was worth it.
“Dr. Mira intends to do his psych eval personally.”
“You spoke with Mira about this?”
“I needed to consult with her on an aspect of the Greenleaf investigation. I’d obviously been in an altercation. And frankly, sir, I felt it best to inform her of the Lansing situation.”
He took his coffee, stood at her skinny window again. “I can’t disagree. I intended to go straight there after speaking with you. Saved me a trip.”
He turned back again. “You did everything right, just as you did yesterday with Lansing. I think you should and could have dodged that backhand. That’s a choice you made, one that will make it easier to get him the help, and the punishment, he very obviously needs.
“I intend to speak to IAB this morning. However, my information is no one else there has any issues with you or with your investigation. If I perceive otherwise, I’ll deal with it.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m taking this mug with me. I’ll get it back to you.”
“No problem.”
“When cops go wrong, it hurts all of us. Ice that jaw,” he added, and went out.
Eve sat back, shut her eyes.
One minute, she thought. Just one minute of quiet—or as quiet as it got when her head still rang and everything throbbed.
Then she heard Peabody’s clump, and sat up.
Chapter Twelve
Peabody walked in with a cold pack in one hand.
“I already iced down,” Eve began, but Peabody just put the pack on Eve’s desk.
“You’re going to ice again in a few minutes. Your jaw looks pretty bad. I can’t see your left girl, but—”
Eve laid a hand over her breast. “And you’re not going to.”
“But I bet that hurts.” She held out a blocker cupped in her other hand.
“I don’t want—”
Peabody, eyes hard, shoved the blocker under Eve’s face.
“Jesus, Peabody, I outrank you.”
“Don’t make me tag Roarke.”
A fist in the throat would’ve been less of a jolt. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Oh, oh, I dare. I double damn dare, so take it.”
Eve snatched it, popped it, swallowed. “What are you so pissed off about?”
“What am I pissed off about? What am I pissed off about?”
Throwing her hands up, Peabody turned a circle. “He attacked you. He punched you in the face, in the boob, and for no reason. None. He was a cop, and he came after another cop. He freaking tried to stun you—missed and hit Baxter.”
“Baxter’s been busy,” Eve muttered.
“What the hell do you expect?” Eyes on fire now, Peabody slapped her hands on her hips. “What the hell do you expect? You’re the LT! He came after our LT, and he fired on one of us. If Baxter hadn’t had the magic lining, he’d be hurt, too. I tell you, if Lansing hadn’t already been in a cage, Jenkinson would’ve gone for him, and I’d’ve been right beside him. So would the whole bullpen.”
