In Death 10 - Witness in Death

seeing to it myself first chance. I won't be happy with you."
    He cut her off before she could make some snippy remark, which she figured was just as well. She turned and caught Peabody, the little white dog nestled in her arms, watching her with speculation.
    "He knows a lot about illegal gambling runs."
    "He knows a lot about legal ones, too. He gave us a lever with Maylou here. Do you care how or why?"
    "No." Peabody rubbed her cheek on the dog's fur, smiled. "It's just interesting. You going to bust the operation?"
    "That's going to depend on Maylou here." Eve rose as the woman began to moan and stir. She made bubbling sounds, coughed, then began to buck, her enormous butt humping up, her surprisingly small feet kicking.
    Eve simply crouched down. "Assaulting an officer," she began in an easy voice. "Resisting arrest, loan-sharking, spine cracking, running an illegal gambling facility. How's that for starters, Maylou?"
    "You broke my nose."
    At least that's what Eve assumed she said as the words were muffled and slurred. "Yep, looks like."
    "You have to call the MTs. It's the law."
    "Interesting, you refreshing me on the law. I think we can hold off on the broken nose a little while. Of course, the broken arm's going to need attention."
    "I don't have a broken arm."
    "Yet." Eve bared her teeth. "Now, Maylou, if you want medical attention and want me to consider looking the other way as regards your enterprise downstairs, tell me all there is to tell about Linus Quim."
    "You're not here to bust me?"
    "That's up to you. Quim."
    "Penny-ante. Not a gambler, he just plays at it. Like a hobby. He's lousy at it. Costs him an average of a hundred K a year. Never bets more than a hundred bills straight, and usually half that, but he's regular. Jesus, my face is killing me. Can't I have some Go-Numb?"
    "When did you talk to him last?"
    "Last night. He likes to do the e-betting deal rather than over the 'link. Transmits twice a week, minimum. Last night, he laid a hundred on the Brawlers on tonight's arena ball -- and that's rich, for him. Said he was feeling lucky."
    "Did he?" Eve leaned closer. "Did he say that, exactly?"
    "Yeah. He says, put me down a hundred on the Brawlers for tomorrow night. I'm feeling lucky. He even smiled, sort of. Said he was going to double it and let it ride on the next night once he won."
    "In a good mood, was he?"
    "For Quim, he was doing a happy dance. Guy's mostly a pain in the ass, a whiner. But he pays up, and he's regular, so I got no beef with him."
    "Good thing. Now, that wasn't so bad, was it, Maylou?"
    "You're not going to bust me?"
    "I don't work Vice or Bunko. You're not my problem." She released the restraints, hooked them in her back pocket. "If I were you, I'd call the MTs and tell them I walked into a wall -- tripped over your little dog."
    "Squeakie!" Maylou rolled over to her ample butt, threw open her arms. The dog leaped out of Peabody's hold and into Maylou's lap. "Did the nasty cop hurt Mama's baby girl?"
    With a shake of her head, Eve headed out. "Give it two weeks," she told Peabody, "then call Hanson in Vice and give him this address."
    "You said you weren't going to bust her."
    "No, I said she wasn't my problem. She's going to be Hanson's."
    Peabody glanced back. "What's going to happen to the dog? Hey, and the apartment. Maybe the bust will drive down the rent. You should see the kitchen, Dallas. It's mag."
    "Keep dreaming." She got in the car, then scowled when Peabody popped the dash compartment. "What are you doing?"
    "First aid kit."
    "Stay away from me."
    "It's either me or the health center."
    "I don't need a health center. Don't touch me."
    "Stop being a baby." Enjoying the role of nurse, Peabody chose her tools. "Ass-kickers aren't afraid of a little first aid kit. Close your eyes if you don't want to see."
    Trapped, Eve gripped the wheel, closed her eyes. She felt the quick, biting sting of the antiseptic before the numbing properties took hold. The smell of it spun in her head, rolled into her belly.
    She heard the low hum of the suture wand.
    She started to make some sarcastic comment to take her mind off the annoyance of the procedure. Then suddenly, she was sucked back.
    The dim and dingy health center ward. The hundreds of stings as hundreds of cuts were treated. The vile buzz of the machines as her broken arm was examined.
    "What's your name? You have to give us your name. Tell us who hurt you? What's your name? What happened to you?"
    I don't know. In