In Death 28 - Promises in Death

what you know?”
    “Yes.”
    Morris squeezed her hand again, then his gaze shifted over her shoulder. Eve turned to see Mira and her husband.
    Mira moved naturally, simply put her arms around Morris and held him. When he dropped his head on Mira’s shoulder, Eve looked away.
    Dennis Mira rubbed Eve’s arm, and made her throat burn. “When death strikes home,” he said in his quiet way, “it’s harder, I think, for those who face it every day.”
    “I guess maybe it is.”
    Something about him, Eve thought—his gangly frame in his oddly formal black suit—was as comforting as she imagined Mira’s hug would be. “It’s the knowing how it works, and what it leaves behind.”
    He studied one of the photographs. “She was very lovely, very young.” And looked at Eve. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in uniform before. Have I?” His eyes took on that vague, distracted look that appealed to her. “In any case, you look formidable.”
    “I guess I am.”
    He smiled at her, then stepped up to Morris. Eve slipped away.
    She took Clifton next, winding her way toward the detective where he stood with a group of cops. She caught a snippet of conversation, centering around baseball.
    Meant nothing, Eve admitted. People talked about all matter of things at memorials.
    “Detective.”
    It took him a half a beat, Eve noted. The uniform threw him, she thought. “Lieutenant.” He shifted away from the others. “Any word?”
    “We’ve got a couple of leads. We’re on them. Any thoughts of your own?”
    “I told you what I know, and from what I hear you should be watching your back.”
    “Should I?”
    “Heard the killer sent you her badge and weapon, then tried to take you out. Smells like a cop killer who targets female officers.”
    “Well. You’d be safe then.”
    She watched temper kindle in his eyes. “I didn’t pick up a badge to be safe.”
    “No? Did you pick it up so you could tune up suspects?”
    “I get the job done.”
    “You’ve got some interesting rips in your jacket, Detective.”
    “What’s it to you?”
    “Just making conversation.”
    “You homicide cops. You come in after it’s over. We’re the ones out in it every day, trying to keep assholes from killing each other.”
    “Gee, I guess if you did a better job, I’d be out of one.”
    He edged in on her with a little tough guy move—quick roll of the shoulders, curl of the lip. “Look, bitch, you don’t have a clue what a real cop does.”
    “Oh? Then why don’t you educate me?”
    The lip curl went to a sneer.
    “Dak.” Cleo Grady strode up. “Newman’s looking for you. He got a bang on the Jane Street case.”
    Clifton gave Eve the hard eye for another few seconds. “School’s out. I’ve got to go do some real cop work.”
    “Good luck with that,” Eve said pleasantly, then turned to Cleo. “Was that true, or a way to keep your squadmate from taking a shot at a superior officer?”
    “It’s true, the other part’s just good luck. We’re all wound a little tight these days, Lieutenant.”
    “My impression is Clifton’s always wound a little tight.”
    Cleo only shrugged. “We feel shut out some, on top of the rest. We come in here, and it hits us in the face. Somebody took her out, and we’re not part of the investigation. We don’t know you, but we know you’re looking at us. You don’t expect some resentment?”
    “Resentment doesn’t bother me, Detective Grady. Murder? That just pisses me off. If Newman got a bang, why didn’t he tag Clifton instead of looking for him in the crowd?”
    “You’d have to ask him,” Cleo said coolly. “But maybe to show some respect.”
    “When one of you gets a bang on an ongoing when you’re off shift or separated, how do you tag each other?”
    “Depends on the circumstances.”
    “I’d say communicator if you’re soloing in the field. But if one of you was, say, at home, a ’link tag makes more sense. A lot of cops stash their communicators along with their weapon, their badge, and so on.”
    “That’s what I’d do. If you’re asking.”
    “Me, too. But I’d try the house ’link first. Hanging at home, why have your pocket on you? Except then that tag would be on the ’link. You tag the pocket, well, all you have to do is take it with you.”
    “Goddamn it,” Cleo said under her breath. “You are looking at us.”
    “I’m looking at everybody.”
    “Look all you want, while whoever did this to Ammy walks away. What kind of