In Death 14 - Reunion in Death

neighbors. The suspect didn't have a relationship going. She'd had one, but broke it off just a few weeks after she moved into the same building as the Stibbs. When one witness loosened up, she told me that she hadn't been surprised when Boyd Stibbs married Maureen. How Maureen moved in on him quick, fast, and in a hurry after his wife's death. Taking him meals, tidying up his apartment, that sort of thing. Basic good-neighbor stuff until you look under it."
    The elevator stopped eight times, disgorging passengers, taking more on.
    An Illegals detective, undercover as a sidewalk sleeper, shambled on wearing a full-length duster stained with what appeared to be various bodily fluids. The stench was awesome.
    "Jesus, Rowinsky. Why don't you use a damn glide, or at least stand downwind?"
    He grinned, showing off yellowed teeth. "Really works, doesn't it? It's cat piss, with a little dead fish juice. Plus, I haven't showered in a week, so the BO's tremendous."
    "You've been under way too long, pal," Eve told him and breathed through her teeth until he shambled off again. She didn't risk a good gulp of air until they hit garage level.
    "I hope none of it got on me," Peabody said as she clicked along behind Eve. "That kind of smell gets right into the fibers."
    "That kind of smell gets right into the pores, then it breeds."
    On that cheerful note, Eve slid into the car. She backed out, spun the wheel, and arrowed for the exit. And was forced to slam the brakes as a man disguised as a mountain lumbered in front of her car. His rag-shoes flapped as he stepped forward and sprayed her windshield with a filthy liquid he carried in a plastic bottle in the pocket of his grimy Yankees jacket.
    "Perfect. Must be my day for sleepers." Disgusted, Eve slammed out of the car as the man wiped at her coated windshield with a dirty rag.
    "This is an official city vehicle, moron. It's a cop car."
    "Clean it up." He nodded slowly as he smeared muck on muck. "Five bucks. Clean it right up."
    "Five bucks, my ass. Make tracks, and make them now."
    "Clean it right up," he repeated in a sing-song voice as he swiped the glass. "Just like she said."
    "What I said was beat it." Eve started toward him, and she caught a movement out of the corner of her eye.
    Across the street, flame-bright in a red skin suit, her golden hair gleaming, was Julianna Dunne. She smiled, then waved cheerfully. "Got a mess on your hands there, Lieutenant-oh and belated congratulations on your promotion."
    "Son of a bitch."
    Her hand went to her weapon as she started to charge. And the mountain backhanded her. One side of her face exploded as she was lifted off her feet, then went numb before she hit the pavement. She felt wild pain in her ribs as the brick of a foot covered in rags kicked her into a rolling skid. Through the ringing of her ears, she heard Peabody's shouts, the mountain's furious chant, "Five bucks! Five bucks!"
    She shook her head to clear it, then came up fast, leading with her shoulder directly into his crotch. He didn't even howl, just crumpled.
    "Dallas! What the hell?"
    "Dunne," she managed, yanked out her restraints as she fought to pull in air and fill her lungs again. "Across the street. Red skin suit, blonde hair." She panted against the pain that was eating through the numbness. The right side of her face was starting to scream. "Heading west on foot. Call it in," she demanded as she snapped the street sleeper's beefy wrist to the car door. "Get me backup."
    She came off the ground like a sprinter off the mark- low and fast. She zigzagged through traffic, was nearly creamed by a Rapid Cab. The blasts of horns and shouted obscenities followed her to the opposite side.
    She could see the flashing red, with nearly a full block lead, and ran like a demon.
    Legs pumping, she dodged pedestrians, plowed through those who didn't have the sense to get out of the way of a woman holding a lethal weapon. A man in a pristine business suit, a pocket-link at his ear, shouted in shock as she barreled toward him. Panicked, he stumbled back into a glide-cart, scattering tubes of Pepsi and soy dogs, inciting the vocal fury of the vender.
    Eve leaped over him, pivoted north. She'd gained a quarter block.
    "Backup, goddamn it, where's my backup?" She yanked out her communicator on the run. Her side was aching like a rotted tooth. "Officer needs assistance. In foot pursuit of suspect, identified as Julianna Dunne, heading north on Seventh at Bleeker. All units, all