In Death 28 - Promises in Death

she’d been tight with awhile before. The other was a lawyer. She said it just wasn’t a good fit, and both of them got to just drifting along in the relationship. One of the reasons she transferred was because she felt her personal life got stale, and she felt she was losing her edge professionally. She wanted something new.”
    “Nobody serious?” Eve pressed, thinking of what Morris had told her. And saw Cleo hesitate.
    “She mentioned there’d been somebody, pretty intense for a while. But it hadn’t worked out.”
    “Name?”
    “No. But it bruised her up some—emotionally. She said they broke it off, and she’d done the casual thing for a couple months with the lawyer. But she wanted a change—a new place, new faces. Like that.”
    “And once she’d transferred—on that personal level.”
    “The thing with the ME started pretty quick. She hadn’t been here long when they met. Ammy said there was this instant spark. They took their time. I mean, they didn’t jump in the sack right off. When they did . . . like I said, you tell a woman partner things. She was crazy about him, and it came off mutual. I went out with them—like a double date deal—a few times. They gave it off—that spark. She wasn’t seeing anyone else.”
    “She never mentioned anyone pushing her, on that personal front.”
    “No.”
    “Did she take meets on her own? With weasels, other informants, or arrange to deal with suspects solo?”
    “Not generally. I mean, she might hook up with one of her weasels solo. But she’d been working this area less than a year. She didn’t have that many.”
    “Names?”
    Cleo’s back went up, Eve could see it. No cop liked to share weasels. “She mostly used this guy who runs a pawnshop on Spring. Stu Bollimer. He’s originally from Georgia, so she played the connection.”
    “Were you using him on anything currently?”
    “I know she gave him a bump on the Chinatown robbery we’re working, and he said he’d keep his ear to the ground.”
    “Anything you worked on generate trouble, somebody who’d want to hurt her?”
    “You bring in bad guys, they’re not going to be happy with you. Nothing stands out. I’ve been going over and over it since I heard. We’re a small squad, and most of what we handle just isn’t that juicy. She liked doing the small jobs. The mom-and-pop whose market gets ripped off, the kid who gets knocked off his airboard so some asshole can steal it. The truth is, she was thinking, maybe down the road, about marriage and having a family, taking the professional mother deal. She liked her job, and she was good at it—don’t get me wrong. But she was thinking, especially since Morris, that down the road . . .”
    “All right, Detective. If you’d send Detective O’Brian up, I’d appreciate it. If he’s not available, your lieutenant can send up whoever he can spare.”
    “O’Brian’s working his desk. I’ll send him.” Cleo got to her feet. “I don’t think it’s too much to ask that you come to us if you need more manpower on this. Not every cop works out of Central.”
    “I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you, Detective.” After Cleo went out, Eve sat back. “Does she just not get it? Is it just a blind spot?”
    “That every cop in that squad is currently a suspect?” Peabody shook her head. “I guess you don’t look at your own family first.”
    “Civilians don’t. Cops do—or should.” Eve made a couple of notes, then reviewed her data on O’Brian.
    “Next up has twenty-three years in. He made first grade five years back. He’s been with this squad for a dozen years. Second marriage, fifteen years in. No kids from marriage one, two from marriage two. Commendations, and two valorous conduct citations. Worked Major Case until he transferred here. That’s a big shift.”
    Eve finally cracked her tube of Pepsi, took a hit. “He’s been here the longest, longer than his current lieutenant.”
    “Guys like that can be the touchstone of a squad. The one the others go to when they don’t want to go to the brass.”
    “We’re going to be here awhile yet. Check in, will you? See if there’s anything new we can use here.”
    O’Brian, beefy, long-jawed, sharp-eyed, stepped in as Peabody moved to the far end of the table. “Lieutenant. Detective.”
    “Detective O’Brian. We’re splitting duties here, to try to keep ahead of the curve. We can talk while my partner makes some contacts.”
    “Fine.” He sat. “Let me