In Death 32 - Treachery in Death

cases, mixed in others from here and there for cover, skimming wit lists and suspects like a standard search for—”
    “Just give me Keener, McNab.”
    “Keener, Rickie. Street name Juicy. I can’t dig to see if he’s listed as a weasel without the flag, but he’s got a long sheet. Possession, possession with intent to distribute, other petty shit, and he got busted for selling a primo case of variety packs to a couple of undercovers. One of them, listed as the arresting officer, is our girl Renee.”
    “Put the data on-screen,” Eve ordered, and scanned it. “Look there, he gets probation, community service, mandatory counseling. That’s a deal happening there, that’s her turning him weasel as a get-out-of-jail card. With his priors, he should’ve done at least three solid. But he gets time served? Six years ago.”
    “That’s how long she said she’d been running the business,” Peabody put in.
    “So, this Keener could’ve been her springboard. Her way in.”
    She paced in front of the screen. “He knows something. He has more, offers it. Hey, I can give you this and that, but you gotta get me out of this. Alternately, she’s already looking, already getting it off the ground and sees him as an asset. Either way, this is the turn.”
    “He’s dead. She was really clear about that,” Peabody added.
    “So, we find the body. If ‘her boy’ found him alive, we can find him dead.”
    She paced a bit more. “Not in his flop. He was fixing to rabbit, with the money. He had another hole he thought was safe, secret. Take the locations of his busts, his flop, locations of his varied and bullshit employment. According to Peabody’s statement Renee said he hadn’t gotten far. Let’s map out his territory, run some probabilities on most likely locations for his hole.”
    “We want to find the body,” Peabody began, “because you think the guy she set on Keener might’ve left some evidence?”
    “It’s possible. Unlikely, but possible. We want to find the body, we want to catch this case because Keener’s our weasel now.”
    “A con, Peabody,” Roarke told her. “You have the case, you have the controls. And what they’re banking on being an OD becomes a homicide investigation.”
    “If I can work it,” Eve agreed. “Either way, she’ll have to come out and ID him as her CI—that’s procedure. If she doesn’t, we can give her a nice slap for it. And we can be bitchy, just by-the-book sticklers and insist on details of their association, information, times, dates—which should all be in her files. Gosh, we’re trying to find out who killed this asshole. A DB’s a DB in my Homicide Division.”
    “You want to piss her off.”
    “I’m counting on it, and I’m going to enjoy it. Get me the probabilities, McNab, then we’re going on a weasel hunt.”
    “You want the body before you go to Whitney and Webster.”
    Eve nodded at Peabody. “Now you’re getting it. Keener’s tangible, and dead he’ll be corroborating your statement. With the connection of the arrest to Renee, we’ve got more. She’s a decorated officer. She’s a boss, and a respected, hell, revered, former commander’s daughter. She’s got eighteen years on the force without a blemish.”
    “And if I just blow the whistle on her, IAB may end up investigating me.”
    “You don’t worry about that,” Eve told her.
    “I won’t. I’ve leveled off now, and now I really want to pay her back for every second I was in that freaking shower. I mean, over and above bringing a dirty cop to justice.”
    “Naked in the shower,” Eve reminded her.
    “With nothing to do but give them an angry towel snap if they slapped open the door.”
    “We’ll pay them back,” Eve promised, and looked over to where Roarke and McNab worked together. Roarke in his tailored dress shirt and pants, McNab in pink, multi-pocketed knee shorts and a buttercupyellow tank that sported E-DICK in screaming red letters across his skinny chest.
    Geeks were geeks, Eve thought, whatever the wardrobe.
    “Your map,” Roarke announced, nodding to the wall screen. “And your most-likelies.”
    “Not bad. His type tend to stick to a certain area, to do their business within a handful of blocks where they know the score, the routes, the dodge points.”
    “If he was going to rabbit, wouldn’t he move outside his usual turf?”
    She shook her head, glanced at McNab. “Look at the time line from the conversation Peabody overheard. The