In Death 32 - Treachery in Death

to get Renee to come at her—to set Bix on her.”
    “I know my wife very well.”
    The faint emphasis on my wife had Webster shoving his hands in his pockets. “I thought you and I were settled.”
    “It’s hard to resist giving you the needle now and again. See the body language there,” Roarke pointed out. “Eve, slouched, kicked back. Disinterested. Renee tipped forward a bit. Working hard to engage. But her foot taps under the table—hard rhythm. She’s angry.”
    Roarke glanced over, smiled at Webster. “Fancy a beer?”
    “Yeah, but until this is done, I’m on. You go ahead.”
    “Ah well, we’ll wait on it.”
    At the table, Renee sipped her martini. “I’m apologizing for not giving you my full cooperation over Keener. He’d been my CI for a long time, and though I didn’t use him often in the last few years, we had a history. I felt, right from the start, you were shutting me out. I reacted to that. You and I have different styles, Dallas, obviously. And they’ve clashed. I’d like to put that behind us.”
    Eve shrugged, and at last picked up her glass. “My investigation of Keener’s murder may require more information from you, may require me to question members of your squad who knew him, had dealings with him.”
    “Understood. But I can tell you neither I nor anyone in the squad used Keener much. He’d occasionally feed me some small change, and I’d see he got a twenty. But I kept him as a CI mostly out of sentiment. He used more than he should have, and his information had become less and less reliable. He didn’t have solid contacts anymore.”
    “Then why did somebody kill him, and go to so much trouble to stage it as an OD?”
    “I can’t answer that. Hopefully your own CI has some information that will give you some lines there. I’m asking that we cooperate with each other on this. I’ll give you whatever I can to aid your investigation. I want to be in the loop. I want to know what you’ve got.”
    “I’ll copy you on all data I deem appropriate.”
    “That’s a start.” Obviously pleased with that, Renee put on the earnest. “Now, about my detective. Dallas, I want you to understand when Bix and Garnet went into that flop ... it was just bad timing. If they’d known he was dead, you were investigating, I promise you, they’d have come to you with full disclosure.”
    “I’m curious. If Keener didn’t have solid contacts, only fed you small change and so on, why did your detective feel he had some connection to or information on the Giraldi matter? And feel so strongly enough to illegally enter his residence? I never got an answer to that.”
    “They followed a tip, and frankly, I think it was a blind. I agree they acted hastily, and I’ve spoken with both of them about it. If they’d informed me before following the tip, I could have told them Keener was dead. We’d have avoided all this. I promise you it won’t happen again.
    “About Garnet—”
    “You don’t want to go there.”
    “I have to.” Renee spread her hands in appeal. “I’m his lieutenant. He was absolutely and completely in the wrong. There’s no excuse.”
    “Fine, we agree. Subject closed.”
    “Do you ever bend?” Renee snapped. “He lost his temper. You were in his face, and he lost his temper. He’s put a lot of OT in on the investigation, done miles of legwork. He was on edge, and the confrontation with you pushed him over.”
    “He damn near knocked me over,” Eve reminded her.
    “And that’s regrettable. You have my file, and you know how essential he is to closing this case. I’m asking you for a little consideration. I’m asking you to let me discipline my own man, my own way. You can’t tell me you’ve never had one of yours snap back at you, or another superior officer.”
    “If one of my men behaved in the way yours did today, I’d write him up myself. And I wouldn’t make excuses for him, much less whine about needing him on an investigation he’s obviously too strung out to work efficiently.”
    Eve watched Darcia step into the pub as Renee’s hand fisted on the table.

    Well shit,” Webster muttered when Darcia moved into the range of the monitor. “What are the odds?”
    Roarke arched an eyebrow at Webster’s reaction. “Very attractive, isn’t she? The sultry brunette. She’s Darcia Angelo, Chief of Police on Olympus.”
    “Yeah. We’ve met.”
    “Really?” Roarke’s smile spread slowly as he added two and two into four.