In Death 29 - Kindred in Death

can I go?”
    “Is he clear?” Eve asked the MT.
    “Got a couple knocks, that’s all.” The MT turned his gimlet eye on Eve. “You got worse.”
    “If you’d give Detective Baxter your full name and contact information,” Eve told Zach, “the officer on the door will take you down to Kelly. If you have any questions, or any problems, you can reach me at Cop Central.”
    “That’s a major.” He put his cap back on, rose. “It’s all been totally Dali.”
    “At least. Baxter, lend me your recorder. Mine was damaged.” She took his, pinned it on.
    “Want me to take a look at that face?” the MT asked.
    “Not now.”
    “Well.” He pulled a cold wrap out of his case, tossed it to her. “Get that on there anyway.”
    She waited until both Zach and the MT left, then turned to the two cops.
    “Engage recorder. Dallas, Lieutenant Eve, in interview with two hotheaded fuckups who have managed to completely undermine a precisely organized operation and allow a murder suspect to stroll away.”
    “Lieutenant—”
    “You do not speak until so ordered.” Deliberately, she turned to the one who’d kept silent. “Name, rank, house, division.”
    “Officer Glen Harrison, out of the One-Two-Five, assigned to Illegals under Captain MacMasters.”
    “You, same data.”
    “Officer Kyle Cunningham, out of the One-Two-Five, assigned to Illegals under Captain MacMasters.”
    “And you two clowns decided to do my job for me today?”
    “We came to pay our respects, offer our support to the captain and his wife. It’s all over how the investigation’s stalled.”
    “Is it?” Eve said pleasantly while Harrison shut his eyes at his companion’s comment.
    “That’s the word,” Cunningham said.
    “And you decided to give the investigation a little momentum by manhandling a civilian, disrupting a memorial service, and causing general panic. During which time the actual suspect was able to elude those of us who are actually working the investigation.”
    “The kid looked like him.”
    Her eyes went to slits. “And how do you know that, Officer Cunningham? Just how have you come by any descriptive data on the suspect?”
    “Word gets around.”
    “So, on one hand word gets around that the investigation is stalled, and on the other word gets around that we have a description of a suspect. You decide to join those hands together and fuck up my op. A man who’s killed two people is now in the wind due to your actions. The investigation is compromised, the department is now vulnerable to a civil suit not only from a kid you tossed to the ground, but from this establishment, and any other individuals who may have been injured or just decide to claim emotional hardship. You assholes.”
    “Look, I don’t have to take this.” Cunningham surged up. “I got a look at the sketch, and the kid looked like him, even dressed like he did. I acted, which is more than Homicide’s been doing since the captain’s girl got raped and murdered Sunday.”
    Eve stepped forward. “Sit your fat ass down or I’ll put it down.”
    “Like to see you try.”
    “Cunningham, for Christ’s sake, for Christ’s sake.” Still on the sofa, Harrison rubbed a hand over his face.
    “Officer Cunningham, you’ve earned yourself a thirty-day rip for insubordination. Further determination of your status will be determined. You will sit when I tell you to sit, or you’ll be looking at sixty days right off the top.”
    “The captain’s my boss,” he said, but he sat.
    “And I am your superior—in so many ways. But yeah, the captain’s your boss. Your actions today have destroyed an operation that could have—damn well would have—seen to it that the man who raped and murdered Deena MacMasters was in custody right fucking now. Who showed you the sketch?”
    Cunningham jutted up his chin. “I don’t say nothing more until I have my rep.”
    “Your choice.” She looked at Harrison. “You?”
    “I didn’t see the sketch, LT. I heard about it, but I didn’t see it. Cunningham took the kid down, shouted out he had the bastard and needed assistance. I assisted.”
    “Write it up, call your reps. Get out of my sight.”
    When they filed out, Baxter came over, took the cold wrap, twisted to activate. “Use it. Your eye’s going black.”
    She twisted, imagining for one happy moment the cold wrap was Cunningham’s neck. “Jesus Christ, Baxter.”
    “We’re in the soup, and goddamn. I’d kick Cunningham’s ass, but