In Death 16 - Portrait in Death

long?
     
     
Peabody stepped out of Jessie's apartment where Eve had stationed her. "She's still stalling," Peabody reported under her breath. "Yancy's good, and he's building up a rapport with her, gaining trust, but it's not going to be quick."
     
     
Straining against impotence, Eve glanced in the apartment. Yancy, the Ident artist, kept up a cheerful banter as he worked with his kit. He was young, but he was good, he was solid.
     
     
She had to leave him alone, Eve thought. Had to stay out of the mix. The witness already had a resentment against her, and if she went in, pressed, it would only gum up the works.
     
     
"She keeps changing her mind on the details," Peabody went on. "Jawline, nose, even skin tone. But he's bringing her around."
     
     
"I'd like to plant my boot up her ass," Eve commented. "That would bring her around."
     
     
Instead, she pulled out her communicator and tagged Baxter. She wasn't going to leave her men out on the street, twiddling their thumbs and waiting for Stevenson to show.
     
     
"Yo, baby" was Baxter's response.
     
     
"Yo, baby?"
     
     
"Just making sure you haven't forgotten me."
     
     
"I never forget irritants. I'm bringing in a couple of replacements. You and Trueheart take the club for a few hours."
     
     
"Ah, a cool libation would go down fine right now. Hear that, kid?"
     
     
"You and the kid stick to nonalcoholic libations." She considered how long they'd been on duty that day. "Give it an hour, just do a sweep. You want in if we locate this prick?"
     
     
"Damn straight."
     
     
"I'll let you know. If we don't pin him tonight, consider yourselves sprung at twenty-one hundred."
     
     
"Copy that. Come on, Trueheart, let's go raise a glass to our illustrious lieutenant." He winked at Eve. "By the way, hubby's on his way in."
     
     
"Hubby? Hubby who?"
     
     
"Ah, I think he means Roarke," Peabody said when Baxter clicked off on a bark of laughter. "Hubby-husband?"
     
     
"Oh, Christ." Annoyed all over again, she marched down to the elevator to wait for him.
     
     
"I didn't send for you." She jabbed a finger at him the instant he stepped out.
     
     
"And my heart aches at the lack. I've got some data you wanted, Lieutenant, and preferred giving it to you face-to-face." He cocked his eyebrow, smiling down the hall at Peabody who hovered between apartments. "How's it going here?"
     
     
"Slow. What've you got?"
     
     
"Bits and pieces. A few parking facilities that, and this shocks me, run sidelines. Then it happens I had a chat with Stevenson's neurologist. I know, you didn't ask me to, specifically, but I took my own initiative." The smile flashed into a grin. "I'm banking on a raise."
     
     
"Yeah, you keep banking on that. What was the content of this chat?"
     
     
"I'm told the patient was an extraordinary woman. Brave, optimistic, a classy woman who was dealt a very bad hand. She was, as it happens, a health care worker herself. A nurse, at-"
     
     
"The East Side Health Center," Eve finished.
     
     
"There you are. Her son was completely devoted to her, and a bit more fanciful than optimistic. He simply refused to believe she would die, and when she did, took it very hard. He blamed the doctors, the health center, God, and whoever else was handy. Refused any and all grief counseling. The doctor was concerned the son might do something rash. Self-termination being top of his list."
     
     
"Too bad he wasn't right. He'll ID him?"
     
     
"He's willing, and anxious to cooperate."
     
     
She nodded, and pulled out her communicator. "I've got an Ident man in there with a neighbor who's neither willing nor anxious to cooperate. He'll get our image, but it's taking too long. I'm going to arrange to have another artist work with the doctor. Give me his name and location."
     
     
When she'd completed the arrangements, she started to pocket her communicator again. It beeped in her hand.
     
     
"Dallas."
     
     
"Lieutenant, your warrant's coming through."
     
     
About damn time, she thought, but bit back the words. "Thank you, sir. Officer Yancy is still working with the neighbor. I've called in replacements for Baxter and Trueheart, so the building's still covered, and ordered them to do an hour's surveillance at the data club before clocking out. Peabody and I will enter subject's apartment as soon as the warrant's in hand. Am I clear to call in the sweepers I have on alert?"
     
     
"Call them in, get it done. Let's put this away