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“I got it, piss him off. We don’t give a damn either way.” Peabody rubbed her palms on her thighs. “I’ll go Miranda him, see if I can establish a rapport.”

“I’ll see about his lawyer. You know, I bet he goes to Illegals instead of Homicide.” Eve smiled, strolled off.

Outside the interview room, Peabody steadied herself, then inspired, slapped and pinched her cheeks pink. When she walked in, her eyes were down and her color was up.

“I . . . I’m going to turn on the record, Mr. Gant, and read you your rights. My . . . The lieutenant is going to check to see if your attorney’s arrived.”

His smile was smug as she cleared her throat, engaged the record, and recited the Revised Miranda. “Um, do you understand your rights and obligations, Mr. Gant?”

“Sure. She give you some grief?”

“Not my fault she wants to go home early today, and this got dumped on us. Anyway, we have information that indicates illegal substances have been bought and sold on the premises owned by . . . Shoot, I’m supposed to wait for the lawyer. Sorry.”

“No sweat.” He tipped back now, obviously a man in charge, and gave her a go-ahead wave. “Why don’t you just run it through for me, save us all time.”

“Well, okay. An individual has filed a complaint, stating that illegals were purchased from you, by him.”

“What? He complain I overcharge? If I did sell illegals, which I don’t, why does he go to the cops? Better Business Bureau, maybe.”

Peabody returned his grin, though she made hers a little forced. “The situation is, this individual injured another individual while under the influence of the illegals allegedly purchased through you.”

Zero rolled his eyes to the ceiling, a gesture of impatient disgust. “So he gets himself juiced, then he wants to push the fact he was an asshole onto the guy who sold him the juice. What a world.”

“That’s nutshelling it, I guess.”

“Not saying I had any juice to sell, but a guy can’t go whining about the vendor, get me?”

“Mr. Lawrence claims—”

“How’m I supposed to know some guy named Lawrence? You know how many people I see every day?”

“Well, they call him Tubbs, but—”

“Tubbs? Tubbs went narc on me? That fat son of a bitch?”

Eve wound her way back, figuring she’d confused things enough that the lawyer would be hunting for them for a good twenty minutes. Rather than go into Interview, she slipped into Observation. The first thing she heard was Zero’s curse as he came halfway out of his chair.

It made her smile.

Peabody looked both alarmed and embarrassed, Eve noted. Good touch—the right touch.

“Please, Mr. Gant—”

“I want to talk to that bastard. I want him to look me in the face.”

“We really can’t arrange that right now. But—”

“That tub of shit in trouble?”

“Well, you could say that. Yes, you could say . . . um.”

“Good. And you can tell him for me, he’d better not come back to my place.” Zero stabbed a finger on her, setting his trio of rings glittering angrily. “I don’t want to see him or those asshole suits he runs with in my place again. He’ll get another kick for buying and possession, right?”

“Actually, he didn’t have any illegals on his person at the time of the incident. We’re doing a tox screen, so we can get him for use.”

“He tries to fuck with me, I’ll fuck with him.” Secure in his world, Zero sat back, folded his arms. “Say I happened to pass some juice—personal use, not for resale. We’re talking the usual fine, community service.”

“That’s the norm, yes, sir.”

“Why don’t you bring Piers in here. I’ve worked with Piers before.”

“Oh, I think Detective Piers is off duty.”

“You bring him in on this. He’ll take care of the details.”

“Absolutely.”

“Dumbass comes into my place. He solicits illegals from me. Fat slob’s always nickel-and-diming me, you get it? Mostly Push—and not worth my time. But I’m going to do him a favor since he and his buddies are regulars. Just a favor for a customer. He wants a party pack, so I go out of my way to do him this favor—at cost! No profit. That keeps the fine down,