In Death 08 - Conspiracy in Death

Central, unless you have other ideas."
    "Sir. No. I'm very grateful."
    "Don't be. They work your butt off at Central." She turned away. "Peabody, let's go by Canal Street before we head in. I'd like to see if Jilessa Brown was a patient there."
    Louise was out in the medi-van doing on-site treatments for frostbite and exposure. Her replacement in the clinic looked young enough to have still been playing doctor in the backseat of a souped-up street buggy with the prom queen.
    But he told her that Jilessa Brown was not only a patient, but a favorite at the clinic. A regular, Eve mused as she fought traffic and clogged streets on her way to Central. One who'd come in at least once a week just to sit and talk with others in the waiting room, to charm some of the lolly-tape the doctors kept in a jar for children.
    She'd been, according to the doctor, a sociable woman with a sweet tooth and a mental defect that had gone untreated during her prime. It had left her speech slurred and her mental capacity on level with an eight-year-old.
    She'd been harmless. And she'd been receiving treatments over the last six months for cancer of the liver, advanced stage.
    There had been some hope for remission, if not reversal.
    Now there would be neither.
    Her message light was glowing when she stepped into her office, but she ignored it and tagged Feeney.
    "I've got another one."
    "So I hear. Word travels."
    "There was a lapel pin at the scene -- it's this medical symbol. I took it by the lab, sat on Dickhead until he verified it was gold. The real thing. Can you run it for me? See if you can find out who sells them?"
    "Will do. You talked to McNab?"
    "Not yet." Her stomach hitched. "Why?"
    He sighed, and paper rattled as he reached into his bag for his favored almonds. "London, six months ago. Funky-junkie found in his flop. He'd cooked for a few days before they found him. Kidneys were missing."
    "That's what we had with Spindler, but this scene was a mess. Blood everywhere. He was either in a hurry, or he doesn't care anymore. I'll tag McNab and get the details."
    "He's on his way over there. Send the pin back with him, and I'll run it."
    "Thanks." Her 'link beeped incoming the minute she ended transmission. "Dallas."
    "I need you in my office, Lieutenant. Now."
    Bowers was all Eve could think, but nodded briskly. "Yes, Commander. On my way."
    She hailed Peabody on her way out. "McNab's on his way over with details on a potential victim in London. Work with him on it. Use my office."
    "Yes, sir, but -- " She broke off, and decided not to be undignified and complain to her lieutenant's back. "Hell." Prepared to spend an irritating hour or so, Peabody gathered her things and hurried toward Eve's office. She wanted to get there before McNab claimed the desk.
    Whitney didn't keep Eve waiting but cleared her straight through. He was at his desk, his hands folded, his eyes neutral. "Lieutenant, you had another altercation with Officer Bowers."
    "Yes, sir. On record at the scene this morning." Goddamn it, Eve thought, she hated this. It was like playing tattletale with the school principal. "She became difficult and insubordinate. She laid hands on me and was ordered off scene."
    He nodded. "You couldn't have handled it differently?"
    Biting back a retort, Eve reached into her bag and pulled out a disc. "Sir, this is a copy of the record from the crime scene. You look at it, then tell me if I could or should have handled it differently."
    "Sit down, Dallas."
    "Sir, if I'm to be reprimanded for doing my job, I prefer to be reprimanded while I'm on my feet."
    "I don't believe I have reprimanded you, Lieutenant." He spoke mildly, but he rose himself. "Bowers had already filed another complaint before this morning's little incident. She claims that you contacted her at home Saturday evening and threatened her with physical harm."
    "Commander, I have not contacted Bowers at home or anywhere else." It was difficult, but she kept her eyes flat and her voice cool. "If and when I have threatened her -- after provocation -- it's been face to face, and on record."
    "She's introduced a copy of a 'link log, on which the caller identifies herself as you."
    Eve's eyes chilled. "My voice print is on record. I request that it be compared with the print from the 'link log."
    "Good. Dallas, sit down. Please."
    He watched her struggle, then sit stiffly. "I have no doubt the prints won't match. Just as I have no doubt that Bowers will continue to make trouble