In Death 11 - Judgment in Death

short, choppy hair disordered from its dance outside in the early breeze. As the morgue techs opened the door to transfer Kohli, the sounds of the day punched into the club.
    Traffic was already thickening. Cars crammed irritably on the street, air commuters swarmed the skies. She heard the call of an early-bird glide-cart operator call to the techs and ask: "What da fuck?"
    "Okay, I'm pissed that you're here at all. I'll get over it. When's the last time you were in here?"
    "Months. It ran well and didn't need my direct attention."
    "Who manages it for you?"
    "Rue MacLean. I'll get her information to you as well."
    "Sooner than later. Do you want to go through the place now?"
    "No point in it until I've refreshed myself on how it was. I'll want to be let back in once I've done that."
    "I'll take care of it. Yes, Peabody?" she said, turning as her aide inched forward and cleared her throat.
    "Sorry, sir, but I thought you'd want to know I reached the victim's squad captain. They're sending a member of his unit and a counselor to inform next of kin. They need to know if they should wait for you or see the wife alone."
    "Tell them to wait. We'll head over now and meet them. I have to go," she said to Roarke.
    "I don't envy you your job, Lieutenant." Because he needed it, he took her hand, linked their fingers firmly. "But I'll let you get back to it. I'll have the information you wanted to you as soon as I can."
    "Roarke?" she called as he started for the door. "I'm sorry about your place."
    "Wood and glass. There's plenty more," he replied as he looked at her over his shoulder.
    "He doesn't mean it," Eve murmured when he'd shut the door behind him.
    "Sir?"
    "They messed with him. He won't let it go." Eve heaved out a breath. "Come on, Peabody, let's go see the wife and get this particular hell over with."
    The Kohlis lived in a decent, mid-level building on the East Side. The kind of place, Eve mused, where you found young families and older retired couples. Not hip enough for the single crowd, not cheap enough for the struggling.
    It was a simple multi-unit, pleasantly if not elegantly rehabbed post-Urban Wars.
    Door security was a basic code entry.
    Eve spotted the cops before she'd double-parked and flipped her On Duty light to active.
    The woman was well turned out, with gilt-edged hair that curved up to her cheeks in two stiletto points. She wore sun shades and an inexpensive business suit in navy. The shoes with their thin, two-inch heels told Eve she worked a desk.
    Brass. Eve was sure of it.
    The man had good shoulders and a bit of pudge at the middle. He'd let his hair go gray, and there was a lot of it. Currently, it was dancing in the breeze around his quiet, composed face. He wore cop shoes -- hard-soled and buffed to a gleam. His suit jacket was a little small in the body and starting to fray at the cuffs.
    A long-timer, Eve judged, who'd moved from beat to street to desk.
    "Lieutenant Dallas." The woman stepped forward but didn't offer her hand for a polite shake. "I recognized you. You get a lot of play in the media." It wasn't said with rebuke, but there was a hint of it in the air, nonetheless. "I'm Captain Roth, from the One twenty-eight. This is Sergeant Clooney out of my house. He's here as grief counselor."
    "Thanks for waiting. Officer Peabody, my aide."
    "What is the status of your investigation, Lieutenant?"
    "Detective Kohli's body is with the ME and will have priority. My report will be written and filed subsequent to notification of next of kin."
    She paused to avoid shouting over the sudden blast of a maxibus that pulled to the curb half a block down.
    "At this point, Captain Roth, I have a dead police officer who was the apparent victim of a particularly brutal beating in the early hours of this morning while he was in a club, after hours. A club where he was employed as a part-time bartender."
    "Robbery?"
    "Unlikely."
    "Then what is the motive, in your opinion?"
    A little seed of resentment planted itself in Eve's gut. It would, she knew, fester there if she wasn't careful. "I've formed no opinion as to motive at this stage of my investigation. Captain Roth, do you want to stand on the street and question me, or would you prefer to read my report when it's filed?"
    Roth opened her mouth, then sucked in a breath. "Point taken, Lieutenant. Detective Kohli worked under me for five years. I'll be straight with you. I want this investigation handled out of my house."
    "I appreciate your