Glory in Death - J. D. Robb [88]
“Marco’s in holding. We can keep him for forty-eight hours without charging him. I thought it best to let him think behind bars for a while. He still refuses counsel.”
Whitney stepped in while she stood there, and he looked around. He wasn’t often in this sector of the complex. His officers came to him. Another weight of command.
She could have had a bigger office. She’d earned one. But she seemed to prefer to work in a room so small that if three people crowded into it, they’d be in sin.
“Good thing you’re not claustrophobic,” he commented. She gave no response, didn’t so much as twitch an eyebrow. Whitney muttered an oath. “Listen, Dallas—”
“Sir.” Her interruption was fast and brittle. “Forensics has the weapon retrieved from David Angelini’s room. I’m informed that there will be some delay on the results as the blood traces detected by the sweeper are of an amount borderline for typing and DNA.”
“So noted, Lieutenant.”
“The fingerprints on the weapon in evidence have been matched to those of David Angelini. My report—”
“We’ll get to your report momentarily.”
Her chin jutted up. “Yes, sir.”
“Goddamn it, Dallas, yank that stick out of your butt and sit down.”
“Is that an order, Commander?”
“Ah, hell,” he began.
Mirina Angelini burst through the doorway in a clatter of high heels and a crackle of silk. “Why are you trying to destroy my family?” she demanded, shaking off the restraining hand of Slade who had come in behind her.
“Mirina, this isn’t going to help.”
She jerked away and crowded into Eve. “Isn’t it enough that my mother was murdered on the street? Murdered because American cops are too busy chasing shadows and filling out useless reports to protect the innocent?”
“Mirina,” Whitney said, “come on to my office. We’ll talk.”
“Talk?” She turned on him like a cat, gold and sleek, teeth bared for blood. “How can I talk to you? I trusted you. I thought you cared about me, about David, about all of us. You’ve let her lock David in a cell. And now my father.”
“Mirina, Marco came in voluntarily. We’ll talk about this. I’ll explain it all to you.”
“There’s nothing to explain.” She turned her back on him and aimed her scorching fury at Eve. “I went to my father’s house. He wanted me to stay in Rome, but I couldn’t. Not when every report in the media is smearing my brother’s name. When we arrived, a neighbor was more than happy, even gleeful, to tell me that my father had been taken away by the police.”
“I can arrange for you to speak with your father, Ms. Angelini,” Eve said coolly. “And your brother.”
“You’re damn right you’ll arrange it. And now. Where is my father?” She used both hands to shove Eve back a pace before Whitney or Slade could stop her. “What have you done with him, you bitch!”
“You want to keep your hands off me,” Eve warned. “I’ve just about had my fill of Angelinis. Your father’s in holding, here. Your brother’s in the tower at Riker’s. You can see your father now. If you want to see your brother, you’ll be shuttled over.” Her gaze flicked to Whitney, and stung. “Or since you’ve got some pull around here, you can probably have him transported to Visitation for an hour.”
“I know what you’re doing.” This was no fragile flower now. Mirina fairly vibrated with power. “You need a scapegoat. You need an arrest so that the media will get out of your face. You’re playing politics, using my brother, even my murdered mother, so that you won’t lose your job.”
“Yeah, some cushy job.” She smiled sourly. “I toss innocent people in a cage every day so I can keep all the benefits.”
“It keeps your face on the screen, doesn’t it?” Mirina tossed her glorious hair. “How much publicity have you traded over my mother’s dead body?”
“That’s enough, Mirina.” Whitney’s voice lashed like a whip, in one vicious snap. “Go to my office and wait.” He looked over her shoulder at Slade. “Take her out of here.”
“Mirina, this is useless,” Slade murmured, trying to tuck her under his arm. “Let’s go now.”
“Don’t hold me.” She bit off each word as if they were stringy meat, then