Glory in Death - J. D. Robb [110]
“I just need to talk to him. Why won’t I find anything?”
Larinda paused at a corner cubicle, the console facing out so that anyone sitting behind it had his back to the wall and his eyes on the room. Nice little sign of paranoia, Eve thought.
“He never leaves anything out, not the tiniest memo, the bitsiest note. He locks down his computer if he stands up to scratch his butt. Claims somebody stole some of his research on one of his other gigs. He even uses an audio enhance, so he can whisper on calls and nobody can hear. As if we all strain to catch those golden words from his throat.”
“So, how do you know he uses audio enhance?”
Larinda smiled. “Good one, Lieutenant. His console’s locked, too,” she added. “Discs secured.” She flicked up a glance from under gold-tipped lashes. “Being a detective, you can probably figure out how I know that. Now, the invite?”
The cubicle was perfect, Eve thought. Awfully perfect for someone who had been hard at work, then had dashed out, ill. “Does he have a source at Cop Central?”
“I guess he may, though I can’t imagine an actual human playing ball with Morse.”
“Does he talk about it, brag about it?”
“Hey, in the gospel according to Morse, he’s got top-level sources in the four corners of the universe.” Her voice lost a bit of its sophistication on the dig, and whispered unmistakably of Queens. “But he never scooped Nadine. Well, until the Towers’s murder, but he didn’t last long on that.”
Eve’s heart was pounding now, strong and steady. She nodded, turned on her heel.
“Hey,” Larinda called after her. “How about tonight? Tit for tat, Dallas.”
“No cameras, or you’re out before you’re in,” Eve warned and kept walking.
Because she remembered her days in uniform, and her ambition, Eve requested Peabody as her backup.
“He’s going to remember your face.” Eve waited impatiently as the elevator climbed to the thirty-third floor of Morse’s building. “He’s good with faces. I don’t want you to say anything unless I give you an opening, then keep it brief, official. And look stern.”
“I was born looking stern.”
“Maybe toy with the hilt of your stunner now and again. You could look a little . . . anxious.”
The corner of Peabody’s mouth twitched. “Like I’d like to use it, but can’t in the presence of a superior officer.”
“You got it.” She stepped off the elevator, turned left. “Feeney’s still working on data, so I don’t have as much as I’d like to pressure him with. The fact is, I could be wrong.”
“But you don’t think so.”
“No, I don’t think so. But I was wrong about David Angelini.”
“You built a good circumstantial case, and he looked guilty as hell in interview.” At Eve’s casual glance, Peabody flushed. “Officers involved in a case are entitled to review all data pertaining to said case.”
“I know the drill, Peabody.” Very cool, very official, Eve announced herself through the entrance intercom. “You looking for a detective badge, Officer?”
Peabody squared her shoulders. “Yes, sir.”
Eve merely nodded, announced herself again, and waited. “Walk down the hall, Peabody, see if the emergency exit is secure.”
“Sir?”
“Walk down the hall,” Eve repeated, holding Peabody’s baffled gaze. “That’s an order.”
“Yes, sir.”
The minute Peabody’s back was turned, Eve took out her master code and disengaged the locks. She slid the door open a fraction and had the code back in her bag before Peabody came back.
“Secured, sir.”
“Good. Doesn’t look like he’s home, unless . . . Well, look here, Peabody, the door isn’t fully secured.”
Peabody looked at the door, then back at Eve, and pursed her lips. “I would consider that unusual. We could have a break-in here, Lieutenant. Mr. Morse may be in trouble.”
“You’ve got a point, Peabody. Let’s put this on record.” While Peabody engaged her recorder, Eve slid the door open, drew her weapon. “Morse? This is Lieutenant Dallas, NYPDS. The entrance is unsecured. We suspect