In Death 02 - Glory in Death

home.
    "Hard copy," she ordered. "Then go back to original view and hard copy. " She waited patiently while her machine wheezed its way through the process. "Continue disc run, normal speed."
    Nibbling on her breakfast, she watched the pricey sports car whiz past camera range. The image blinked. Channel 75 could afford the latest in motion-activated security cameras. Eleven minutes had passed on the counter when Morse's car approached.
    "Interesting," she murmured. "Copy disc, transfer copy to file 47833-K, Kirski, Louise. Homicide. Cross reference to case file 47801-T, Towers, Cicely and 47815-M, Metcalf, Yvonne. Homicides."
    Turning from the screen, she engaged her 'link. "Feeney."
    "Dallas." He stuffed the last of a danish into his mouth. "I'm working on it. Christ, it's barely seven A. M."
    "I know what time it is. I've got a sensitive matter here, Feeney."
    "Hell." His already rumpled face grew more wrinkles. "I hate when you say that."
    "I've got David Angelini on the gate security disc at Channel 75, coming in about ten minutes before Louise Kirski's body was discovered."
    "Shit, shit, shit. Who's going to tell the commander?"
    "I am -- after I've had a talk with Angelini. I need you to cover for me, Feeney. I'm going to transmit what I've got, excluding Angelini. You take it in to the commander. Tell him I'm hooking a couple hours of personal time."
    "Yeah, like he'll buy that one."
    "Feeney, tell me I need some sleep. Tell me you'll report to the commander, and to go home and catch a couple hours of sleep."
    Feeney heaved a long sigh. "Dallas, you need some sleep. I'll report to the commander. Go home and catch a couple hours."
    "Now you can tell him you told me," she said, and flicked off.
    Like routine police work, a cop's gut often paid off. Eve's told her that David Angelini would close himself in with family. Her first stop was the Angelini pied-a-terre, cozied in an affluent East Side neighborhood.
    Here the brownstones had been constructed barely thirty years before, reproductions of those designed during the nineteenth, and destroyed during the dawn of the twenty-first when most of New York's infrastructure had failed. A large portion of New York's posher homes in this area had been condemned and razed. After much debate, this area had been rebuilt in the old tradition -- a tradition only the very wealthy had been able to afford.
    After a ten-minute search, Eve managed to find a spot among the expensive European and American cars. Overhead, a trio of private minishuttles jockeyed for air space, circling as they looked for a clear landing.
    Apparently, public transportation wasn't high on the list in the neighborhood, and property was too dear to waste on garage facilities.
    Still, New York was New York, and she locked the doors on her battered police issue before heading up the sidewalk. She watched a teenager skim by on an airboard. He took the opportunity to impress his small audience with a few complicated maneuvers, ending with a long, looping flip. Rather than disappoint him, Eve flashed him an appreciative grin.
    "Nice moves."
    "I got the groove," he claimed in a voice that was hovering between puberty and manhood with less security than he hovered over the sidewalk. "You board?"
    "No. Too risky for me." When she continued to walk, he circled around her, pivoting on the board with quick footwork.
    "I could show you some of the easy scoots in five minutes."
    "I'll keep it in mind. You know who lives there, in twenty-one?"
    "Twenty-one? Sure, Mr. Angelini. You're not one of his nibbles."
    She stopped. "I'm not?"
    "Come on." The boy cocked a grin, showing perfect teeth. "He goes for the dignified type. Older, too." He did a quick vertical rock, side to side. "You don't look like a domestic, either. Anyway, he mostly does the droid thing for that."
    "Does he have a lot of nibbles?"
    "Only seen a few around here. Always come up in a private car. Sometimes they'll stay till morning, but mostly not."
    "And how would you know?"
    He grinned, unabashed. "I live right over there." He pointed to a townhouse across the street. "I like to keep my eye on what's doing."
    "Okay, why don't you tell me if anybody came around last night?"
    He swiveled his board, spun. "How come?"
    "'Cause I'm a cop."
    His eyes widened as he studied her badge. "Wow. Decent. Hey, you think he popped his old lady? Gotta keep up with current events and shit for school."
    "This isn't a quiz. Were you keeping your eye out last night?