Loyalty in Death Read Free Page A

mournfully on Eve. “What kinda person does that shit?”
    “It’s bad business, Ratso. Bad people. It’s not my case,” she added. “I can take a look at the file, but there’s not a lot I can do.”
    “They offed him ‘cause he figured out what they was gonna do, right? Right?”
    “Yeah, I’d say that follows.”
    “So you gotta figure out what they’re gonna do, right? You figure it out, Dallas, then you stop them and take them down for doing The Fixer like that. You’re a murder cop, and they murdered him.”
    “It’s not as simple as that. It’s not my case,” she said again. “If they fished him out in New Jersey, it’s not even my damn city. The cops working it aren’t likely to take kindly to me homing in on their investigation.”
    “How much you figure most cops gonna bother with somebody like Fixer?”
    She nearly sighed. “There are plenty of cops who’ll bother. Plenty who’ll work their butt off trying to close the case, Ratso.”
    “You’ll work harder.” He said it simply, almost childlike faith in his eyes. And Eve felt her conscience stir restlessly. “And I can find out shit for you. If Fixer talked to me some, he coulda maybe talked to somebody else. He didn’t scare easy, you know. He come through the Urban Wars. But he was plenty scared when he called me that night. They didn’t do him that way ‘cause they was gonna take out a bank.”
    “Maybe not.” But she knew there were some who would gut a tourist for a wrist unit and a pair of airboots. “I’ll look into it. I can’t promise any more than that. You find out anything that adds to this, you get in touch.”
    “Yeah, okay. Right.” He grinned at her. “You’ll find out who did Fixer that way. The other cops, they didn’t know about the shit he was into, right? Right? So that’s good data I give you.”
    “Yeah, good enough, Ratso.” She rose, dug credits out of her pocket, and laid them on the table.
    “You want me to run down the file on this floater?” Peabody asked when they stepped back outside.
    “Yeah. Tomorrow’s soon enough.” As they climbed back up to her vehicle, Eve dug her hands into her pockets. “Do a run on Arlington, too. See what buildings, streets, citizens, businesses, that kind of thing have that name. If we find anything, we can turn it over to the investigating officer.”
    “This Fixer, did he weasel for anybody?”
    “No.” Eve slid behind the wheel. “He hated cops.” For a moment she frowned, drummed her fingers. “Ratso’s got a brain the size of a soybean, but he’s got Fixer down. He didn’t scare easy, and he was greedy. Kept that shop of his open seven days a week, worked it solo. Rumor was he had his old army-issue blaster under the counter, and a hunting knife. Used to brag he could fillet a man as quick and easy as he could a trout.”
    “Sounds like a real fun guy.”
    “He was tough and sour and would sooner piss in a cop’s eye than look at one. If he wanted out of this deal he was in, it had to be way over the top. Nothing much would’ve put this old man off.”
    “What’s that I hear?” Cocking her head, Peabody cupped a hand at her ear. “Oh, that must be the sound of you getting sucked in.”
    Eve hit the street with a bit more bounce than necessary. “Shut up, Peabody.”
    She missed dinner, which was only mildly irritating. The fact that she’d been right about the PA and the plea bargain on Lisbeth Cooke was downright infuriating. At least, Eve thought as she let herself into the house, the twit could have stuck for murder two a little longer.
    Now, scant hours after Eve had arrested her in the wrongful death of one J. Clarence Branson, Lisbeth was out on bail and very likely sitting cozily in her own apartment with a glass of claret and a smug little smile on her face.
    Summerset, Roarke’s butler, slipped into the foyer to greet her with a baleful eye and a sniff of disapproval. “You are, once again, quite late.”
    “Yeah? And