The in Death Collection Books 11-15 - J. D. Robb [389]
“Okay. thanks. Renfrew’s going to give me grief, isn’t he?”
“Yes, sir.” Lewis agreed. “He surely is.”
Eve wasn’t feeling patient, she wasn’t feeling diplomatic, but she told herself she’d have to be both.
Renfrew turned at her approach. His gaze skimmed over her face, dipped briefly down to her badge.
“No one called Cop Central into this.” His shoulders went up and back, like a boxer bracing for the first round.
She had a good inch on him in height, and watched as he flexed his body forward on his toes to compensate.
Oh yeah, she thought, noting his combative stance, he was going to give her grief. “I didn’t get the tag from Central. I’m not looking to trespass on your turf, Detective Renfrew. Your victim’s connected to one of my cases. I think we might be able to help each other out.”
“I don’t need your help, and I’m not interested in getting the fast shuffle from Central on my case.”
“Okay, you can help me out.”
“You’re on my crime scene, and that makes one too many badges around here. I’ve got work to do.”
“Detective, I need to know what you’ve got at this point.”
“You think you can pull rank on me?” He rocked higher on his toes, jabbed a finger at her. “Waltz in here and take over a high-profile murder so you can get your face splashed all over the screen again? Forget it. I’m primary here.”
Eve imagined grabbing the finger he had in her face, bending it back until the bone snapped. But she kept her voice level. “I’m not interested in screen time, in pulling rank, or in taking over your case, Renfrew. I’m interested in finding out why a man I had scheduled for formal interview tomorrow ends up dead in the river. I’m asking you to reach out with some courtesy and cooperation.”
“Courtesy and cooperation. Fuck that. How much courtesy and cooperation did you show when you tore into the One-twenty-eight a couple months ago? I don’t reach out to cops who turn on cops.”
“Sounds like you’ve got issues, Renfrew. The One-two-eight was a mess, and a cop was killing cops.”
He snorted through his nose. “So you say.”
“So I say. And right now someone’s killing women who think they’re going out for a pleasant evening. Your case links to mine, so we can stand here and piss on each other or we can share information that could close both cases quickly.”
“This is my crime scene.” He jabbed a finger at her again. “I say who comes on it and who doesn’t. And I want you out. Remove yourself or I’ll have you removed.”
Eve stuck her hands in her pockets before she could give in to the urge and punch him. “Have me removed, Renfrew.” She dug out her recorder, watched his face go red and tight as she fixed it to her jacket. “Officially and on record have me removed from a crime scene that is potentially linked to an ongoing homicide investigation of which I am primary. Have me removed after I’ve asked you for the cooperation and courtesy to exchange information that may aid in both investigations.”
She stared him down, waited five humming seconds. Around them, crime scene techs had stopped their work to watch. “Have me removed,” she said again, “but before you take that step, you’d better think carefully about how such an action will look on the official record, how it’s going to play in the media who are standing at the edges of your scene, and how you’re going to justify such an act to your superiors.”
“Turn that goddamn recorder off.”
“It stays on. We’re past doing this the easy way. I’m identified as Dallas, Lieutenant Eve, and request from you, Renfrew . . .” She dropped her gaze to his badge. “. . . Detective Matthew, a report on your investigation into the death of Theodore McNamara as this same individual was a potential witness, a potential suspect in a series of homicides of which I am primary investigator.”
“You can read my report when I file it. That’s all