Since the uniforms had things under control, she walked the rest of the way to her car.
“He tailed me, goddamn it, and I missed it. Distracted, not paying enough attention.” She gave the steering wheel a sharp smack with the heel of her hand. “No vehicle registered under his name or the mother’s, but he had one. Parked along here, you bet your ass. Maybe boosted, maybe borrowed, but it’s close by. Tailed me, parked, waited for us to come out of the lawyer’s.”
With a low level of fury simmering, she pulled out into a break in traffic.
“If that’s how it went, and my arrows are pointing there, too, somebody’s worried we’re getting too close. This Kruger, Dallas, they had to hire him for this hit pretty damn quick. Maybe the media conference set it off. Alternatively—”
Peabody gripped the chicken stick as Eve wove in and out of traffic like the car was a thread in a loom.
“Ah, alternately, maybe he’s connected to the thief. Or is the thief.”
“We won’t discount it. He’s got plenty of bumps, but none are for burglary. Maybe he’s better at that than the rest.”
“If you hadn’t had protection, you’d be the one bleeding on the pavement, so he wasn’t all that bad.”
“Maybe it wouldn’t have killed me, but it sure as hell would’ve ruined my day. And slowed me, and the investigation, down. Taking out a cop, and taking out a cop on the street? Ballsy.”
“Risk taker.”
“Yeah, and he panicked when I didn’t go down. Fast on his feet, but he panicked. Potentially, so did the thief. So maybe. The mother’s Marcella Kruger, that building,” Eve said as she pulled over. “Apartment 404. If she’s not in, her employment’s just down the block. Server at Mama’s Diner. Take the field bag from the trunk so she doesn’t see the weapon or the rest. Take a cab back to Central. You got the fare?”
“Yeah, I got it.”
“Expense it.”
They both ignored the honks and shouts as Peabody turned to her. “If you find anything, need me, tag me. Either way, go home after and have a big drink.”
She slid out, retrieved the bag. “Glad you’re not stabbed.”
“Pretty happy about that myself,” Eve said, and pulled out again.
This time she didn’t hunt for parking, but slid into a loading zone, flipped on her On Duty light.
And sat a moment.
The attempted murder didn’t bother her overmuch. People had tried to kill her or do her harm before, and would again. That was the job.
But she’d missed the damn tail, and she was good at spotting one. Distracted, she admitted. And with a worry she couldn’t quite shake.
The damn emeralds. Why the hell had they come into Roarke’s clever hands all those years ago, into that specific vault, then those emeralds in that vault become a target?
Add a dead man, and that dumps it all right in her lap. And just for fun, toss in an Interpol agent who continues to see Roarke as a big catch.
So with all that circling in her brain, she’d missed the damn tail, and someone else was dead.
She shoved her hands through her hair, breathed out.
“Fuck it. Work the case.”
She got out, crossed to the building. Decent building, street-level restaurant where it remained warm enough for some early diners to sit outside.
And more than one gave her a wary eye as she walked to the side street door and mastered in.
Blood on her clothes, she thought again. She wasn’t going to think about what Summerset would have to say about it. Instead, she climbed two flights of stairs, then turned her recorder back on.
“Dallas, Lieutenant Eve, mastering into DOS Timothy Kruger’s apartment for warranted search.”
She stepped in.
