[In Death 08] - Conspiracy in Death Page 16

  “The more you know, the more you can cross off. I appreciate it.”

  “Any time, Lieutenant.” Roarke took her hands, slid his up to her wrists, and tugged her closer. It gratified him to feel her pulse trip just a little faster at the contact. “Do I assume you’ll be at this most of the day?”

  “That’s the plan. Aren’t you going in to your office?”

  “No, I’ll be working here today. It’s Saturday.”

  “Oh, right.” The little trickle of guilt had her struggling not to squirm. “We didn’t have, like plans for the weekend, did we?”

  “No.” His lips curved, and taking advantage of her momentary distraction, he shifted his hands to her hips. “But I could make some, for after hours.”

  “Yeah?” Her body bumped his, and her muscles loosened and throbbed. “What kind of plans?”

  “Intimate plans.” He lowered his head to catch and tease her lower lip with his teeth. “Darling Eve, where would you like to go? Or should I surprise you?”

  “Your surprises are usually pretty good.” Her eyes wanted to close, her bones wanted to melt. “Roarke, you’re clouding my mind here.”

  “Why, thank you.” With a low laugh, he changed angles to rub his lips over hers. “Why don’t I just finish the job,” he suggested and turned up the power and heat of the kiss.

  When Louise stepped through the doorway with Summerset just behind her, she stopped abruptly. She supposed she could have—should have—cleared her throat or made some sound. But it was so interesting to watch that shimmer of passion, that ease of joining. And to see the edgy, somewhat abrupt Lieutenant Dallas in a private moment that proved her to be a woman with a heart and needs.

  It was really lovely, she decided, the way they were framed in the window with the steady fall of snow behind them, the woman in an almost ruthlessly plain shirt and trousers with a weapon harness strapped to her side, and the man elegantly casual in black. Really lovely, she thought, that they could be so completely lost in each other. Which meant, she supposed, that marriage didn’t always kill passions.

  So it was Summerset who cleared his throat. “I beg your pardon. Dr. Dimatto has arrived.”

  Eve started to jerk back, then subsided when Roarke merely locked her against him. Whenever she tried to wiggle out of a public embrace, he made an issue of it. She fought with embarrassment, tried to seem casual. All the while, her blood was running as sweet and thick as heated syrup.

  “You’re prompt, doctor,” she managed.

  “Always, Lieutenant. Good morning, Roarke.”

  “Good morning.” Amused at all of them, Roarke loosened his hold on Eve. “Can we offer you something? Coffee?”

  “I never turn down coffee. You have an exceptional home,” she added as she continued into the room.

  “This place?” Eve’s voice was desert dry. “It’ll do until we find something bigger.”

  Louise laughed, set her briefcase aside. The thin light through the window caught the little gold pin on her lapel. Eve lifted a brow. “Dr. Wo had one of those on her dress last night. So did Vanderhaven.”

  “This.” Absently, Louise lifted a hand to the pin. “Tradition. Right after the turn of the century, most medical facilities began to give a caduceus pin to doctors who’d completed their internship. I imagine a lot of them end up in a dusty drawer somewhere, but I like it.”

  “I’ll let you get down to work.” Roarke handed Louise her coffee, then glanced over at his wife. The gleam in his eye said it all. “I’ll see you later, Lieutenant, and we can firm up those plans.”

  “Sure.” Damn it, her lips were still vibrating from his. “We’ll do that.”

  Louise waited until he’d gone through a connecting door, shut it. “I hope you won’t take offense if I say that is the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.”

  “I rarely take offense at the truth. So let’s try for another. Your uncle is one of my suspects. At this time, he is on my short, and can’t be eliminated. Is that going to be a problem for you?”

  A line formed instantly and deeply between Louise’s brows. Straight irritation, Eve decided.

  “It won’t be a problem because I have every confidence I’ll help you eliminate him very quickly. Uncle Colin and I disagree in many areas, but he is, above all else, dedicated to insuring the quality of human life.”

  “That’s an interesting phrase.” Eve came around the desk, sat on the edge. They would have to test each other, she knew, before they could work together. “Not saving lives, maintaining them, prolonging them?”

  “There are some who believe that without a level of quality, life is only pain.”

  “Is that your belief?”

  “For me, life itself is enough, as long as suffering can be relieved.”

  Eve nodded, picked up her own coffee, though it had gone cold. “Most wouldn’t say that Snooks, for example, was enjoying any quality of life. He was sick, he was dying, he was indigent. Ending all that for him might have been considered a mercy by some.”

  Louise went pale, but her eyes remained steady. “No doctor with ethics, with morals, with a belief in his oaths and his duty, would terminate a patient without consent. First do no harm. This, without question, is a promise my uncle lives by.”

  Eve nodded. “We’ll see. I want you to take a look at the data I’ve accessed, then translate it for me in terms someone who didn’t graduate from Harvard Medical can understand.”

  Louise’s brows winged up. “You checked up on me.”

  “Did you think I wouldn’t?”

  “No.” Once again, Louise’s face relaxed into a smile. “I was certain you would. It’s nice to be right.”

  “Then let’s get started.” Eve called up the data, gestured to the chair behind the monitor, then looked over as Peabody came huffing through the door. “You’re late.”

  “Subway—” Peabody held up a hand as she struggled to catch her breath. “Running behind. Weather sucks. Sorry.” She took off her snow-covered coat. “Coffee. Please. Sir.”

  Eve merely jerked a thumb in the direction of the AutoChef, then answered the beep of her ’link. “Dallas.”

  “Don’t you ever check your messages?” Nadine demanded. “I’ve been trying to reach you since last night.”

  “I was out, now I’m in. What?”

  “I’m officially requesting a one-on-one regarding the murders of Samuel Petrinsky and Erin Spindler. My information has you as primary on the first and replacement primary on the second.”

  It was a game they both knew. Tele-link logs could be checked. “The department has not yet issued a statement on either of those cases. Both are ongoing investigations.”

  “Which, according to my research and sources, appear to be linked. You can say nothing and I’ll go on air with what I’ve got, or you can do some damage control by agreeing to an interview before I break the story. Up to you, Dallas.”

  She could have wiggled more, often would have. But she thought that was enough for the record. “I’m working at home today.”

  “Fine, I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

  “No, no cameras in my house.” On that she was firm. “I’ll meet you in my office at Central in an hour.”

  “Make it half that. I have a deadline.”

  “An hour, Nadine. Take it or leave it.” And with that, she cut transmission. “Peabody, you work with Dr. Dimatto. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  “Traffic’s ugly, Lieutenant,” Peabody told her, pitifully grateful she wasn’t being dragged out in it again. “The road crews haven’t started clearing yet.”

  “Just one more adventure,” Eve muttered and strode out.

  She thought she’d get out clean, but the foyer monitor blinked on as she reached for her jacket. “Going somewhere, Lieutenant?”

  “Jesus, Roarke, why not just knock me over the head with a blunt instrument. Keeping tabs on me?”

  “As often as possible. Wear your coat if you’re going out. That jacket
isn’t warm enough for this weather.”

  “I’m just going into Central for a couple of hours.”

  “Wear the coat,” he repeated, “and the gloves in the pocket. I’m sending one of the four-wheels around.”

  She opened her mouth, but he’d already vanished. “Nag, nag, nag,” she muttered, then nearly jolted when he swam back on-screen.

  “I love you, too,” he said easily, and she heard his chuckle as the image faded again.

  Eyes narrowed, she fingered the jacket, considered taking a stand. But she remembered just how warm and soft the coat was. It wasn’t like she was going to a murder scene, so it seemed petty not to give in, just this once. She wrapped cashmere over her ancient trousers and stepped outside into the blowing snow just as a gleaming silver vehicle rolled smoothly to the base of the steps.

  It was, she thought, a honey of a ride. Powerful and sturdy as a jet-tank. She climbed up and in, amused and touched to find the heat already blowing. Roarke never missed a trick. To entertain herself, she programmed it for manual, gripped the gearshift, and shot down the drive.

  It rolled over several inches of snow as if she were driving on freshly scrubbed asphalt.

  Traffic was snarled and nasty. More than one vehicle was tipped sideways on the street and abandoned. She counted three fender benders in the first four blocks. She steered around them easily, automatically calling the locations of the wrecks in to Dispatch on her communicator.

  Even the glide-cart vendors, who would brave almost any weather to make a buck, were taking the day off. Street corners were deserted, the sky overhead too curtained with snow for her to see or hear any air traffic.

  It was, she thought, like driving through one of those old glass globes where nothing moved but the snow when it was shaken free.

  Clean, she thought. It wouldn’t last, but just now, the city was clean, pristine, surreal. And quiet enough to make her shudder.

  She felt something very close to relief after she’d parked in the garage and walked into the noise and confusion of Cop Central.

  With more than a half hour to spare before the interview, she locked the door to her office—in case Nadine rushed the mark—and contacted her commander at home.

  “I apologize for interrupting your free day, Commander.”

  “It’s yours as well, if I’m not mistaken.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Get your boots on, I’ll be out in just a few minutes. Grandkids,” he told Eve with a quick and rare smile. “We’re about to have a snow war.”

  “I won’t keep you from it, but I thought I should inform you I’ve agreed to a one-on-one with Nadine Furst. She contacted me this morning at home. She’s dug up some data on the Petrinsky and the Spindler cases. I thought it best to draft an official statement, answer some basic questions, than to let her go on air with speculation.”

  “Cooperate, but keep it as short as possible.” The smile that had softened his face when he’d spoken of his grandchildren was gone, leaving it hard and blank. “We can expect other media to demand statements after she goes on air with it. What’s the current status?”

  “I’m working with a medical consultant on some data now. I have potential links to two other homicides, one in Chicago, one in Paris. I’ve contacted the primaries in each, and am waiting for data transfer. McNab is still running like crimes. My investigation points to a possible connection with several large medical facilities and at least two, if not more, medical personnel attached to them.”

  “Give her as little as possible. Send me a fully updated report today, at home. We’ll discuss this on Monday morning.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Well, Eve thought as she leaned back from the ’link, one base covered. Now she would dance the dance with Nadine and see what reaction it caused.

  She got up to unlock the door, then sat and killed the waiting time by starting the report for Whitney. When she heard the click of heels coming briskly down the hall, Eve saved the document, filed it, and blanked her screen.

  “God! Could it get any worse out there?” Nadine smoothed a hand over her camera-ready hair. “Only the insane go out in this, which makes us lunatics, Dallas.”

  “Cops laugh at blizzards. Nothing stops the law.”

  “Well, that explains why we passed two wrecked black and whites on the way from the station. I got an update from our meteorologist before I left. He says it’s the storm of the century.”

  “How many of those have we had this century now?”

  Nadine laughed and began to unbutton her coat. “True enough, but he says we can expect this storm to continue right through tomorrow, with accumulations even in the city of more than two feet. This one’s going to stop New York cold.”

  “Great. People will be killing each other over a roll of toilet paper by afternoon.”

  “You can bet I’m laying in a supply.” She started to hang her coat on the bent hook beside Eve’s, then stopped with a purr. “Oooh, cashmere. Fabulous. Is this yours? I’ve never seen you wear it.”

  “I don’t wear it on duty, which I’m officially not on today. It’d get wrecked in a heartbeat. Now, do you want to talk outerwear fashion, Nadine, or murder?”

  “It’s always murder first with you.” But she indulged herself by giving the coat one last, long stroke before she signaled to her camera operator. “Set it up so the audience can see the snow falling. Makes a nice visual and adds to the spirit of dedication of our cop here and your dogged reporter.”

  She snapped open a lighted compact, checked her face, her hair. Satisfied, she sat, crossed her silky legs. “Your hair’s a wreck, but I don’t suppose you care.”

  “Let’s get it done.” Vaguely annoyed, Eve tunneled her fingers through her hair twice. Damn it, she’d had it dealt with before Christmas.

  “Okay, we’re set. I’ll do the bumpers and the teases back at the station, so we’ll just go right into it here. Stop scowling, Dallas, you’ll frighten the viewing audience. This will roll on the noon report, but it’s going to take second to the weather.” And that, Nadine thought philosophically, was the breaks. She took one deep breath, closed her eyes briefly, jabbed a finger at the operator to start tape.

  Then she opened her eyes, fixed a solemn smile on her face. “This is Nadine Furst, reporting from the office of Lieutenant Eve Dallas at Cop Central. Lieutenant Dallas, you are primary on a recent homicide, one that involves one of the city’s homeless who was killed a few nights ago. Can you confirm that?”

  “I’m primary on the matter of the death of Samuel Petrinsky, street name Snooks, who was murdered some time during the early-morning hours of January twelfth. The investigation is open and ongoing.”

  “There were, however, unusual circumstances in the matter of this death.”

  Eve looked steadily at Nadine. “There are unusual circumstances in the matter of any murder.”

  “That may be true. In this case, however, the victim’s heart had been removed. It was not found at the scene. Will you confirm that?”

  “I will confirm that the victim was found in his usual crib, and that his death occurred during what appeared to be a skilled surgical operation during which an organ was removed.”

  “Do you suspect a cult?”

  “That avenue of investigation is not prime, but will not be dismissed until the facts warrant it.”

  “Is your investigation centering on the black market?”

  “Again, that avenue will not be dismissed.”

  For emphasis, Nadine leaned forward just a little, her forearm resting on her thigh. “Your investigation has been, according to my sources, expanded to include the similar death of one Erin Spindler, who was found murdered several weeks ago in her apartment. You were not primary on that investigation. Why have you assumed that position now?”

  “The possible connection between the cases is cause for both cases to be assigned one primary. This streamlines the investigation. It’s simply procedure.”

  “Have you, as yet, estab
lished a profile of the killer or killers?”

  Here, Eve thought was the point where she would walk the shaky line between departmental policy and her own needs. “The profile is being constructed. At this time it is believed that the perpetrator has well-trained medical skills.”

  “A doctor?”

  “Not all well-trained medical personnel are doctors,” she said briefly. “But that, too, is an avenue of our investigation. The department, and this investigator, will put all efforts into finding the killer or killers of Petrinsky and Spindler. It’s my priority at this time.”

  “You have leads?”

  Eve waited a beat, just one beat. “We are following any and all leads.”

  Eve gave her another ten minutes, circling around and back to the information she wanted aired. There was a connection, there was medical skill, and she was focused on finding the killer.

  “Good, great.” Nadine shook her hair back, rolled her shoulders. “I think I’ll snip and edit and work that into a two-parter. I need something to compete with this damn snow.” She sent her operator a warm smile. “Be a sweetheart, would you, and go on down to the van? Shoot that feed to the station. I’ll be right along.”

  She waited until he was gone, then turned her sharp eyes to Eve. “Off the record?”

  “On or off, I can’t give you much more.”

  “You think it’s a doctor, a surgeon. A very skilled one.”

  “What I think isn’t what I know. Until I know, the case is open.”

  “But we’re not talking cult or black market.”

  “Off record, no, I don’t think so. No sacrifice to some bloody god, no quick profit. If money’s part of it, it’s a long-term investment. Do your job, Nadine, and if you find anything interesting, run it by me. I’ll confirm or deny, if I can.”

  Fair was fair, Nadine thought. And Eve Dallas could be counted on to deal them straight. “And if I dig up something you don’t have, and pass it along? What will you trade?”

  Eve smiled. “You’ll get the exclusive when the case breaks.”