"Have you ever heard anything about Apollo or Cassandra?"
Ratso swiped a hand under his nose. "Table dancer over at the Peek-A-Boo goes by Cassandra. She got tits like watermelons."
Eve shook her head. "No, this is something else. You ask around, Ratso, but ask around real careful. And if you hear anything, don't wonder if you should tag me. Just do it."
"Okay, but I'm kinda low on operating expenses."
She rose, then tossed another twenty on the table. "Don't waste my money," she warned. "Peabody."
"I'll start the run on Airstream vans," Peabody said, "New York and New Jersey registrations."
"Goddamn it!" Eve dashed toward her vehicle. "Look at this shit, would you?" she demanded, jerking a thumb toward the bright red frowny face someone had painted on her dented hood. "No respect. No respect whatsoever for city property."
Peabody coughed, forced her face into stern, disapproving lines. "It's a disgrace, sir. Absolutely."
"Was that a smirk, Officer?"
"No sir, it certainly was not a smirk. It was a scowl. A righteous scowl. Should I canvas the area for spray cans, Lieutenant?"
"Kiss my ass." Eve slammed into the car, giving Peabody just enough time to snort out the laugh that had been burning in her chest.
"I do," she murmured. "Constantly." She let out a long breath, shook off the grin, and climbed in the passenger seat.
"We'll finish out the shift at my home office. I'll be damned if I'm going to park this thing in the garage and have the precinc
t snickering."
"That works for me. You've got better food." And there'd be no chance of McNab swinging through to do one of his tap dances.
"Have you got Lisbeth Cooke's address? We can swing by and see if we can catch her before we take the rest of this home."
"Yes, sir, I believe it's on the way." Peabody called it up. "That's just off Madison at Eighty-third. Should I call and set up an interview?"
"No, let's surprise her."
It was obvious they did, and that Lisbeth didn't care for surprises. "I don't have to speak to you," she said when she opened the door. "Not without my attorney present."
"Call him," Eve suggested. "Since you've got something to hide."
"I've got nothing to hide. I've given you my statement, I've interviewed with the prosecuting attorney's office. I've taken the plea, and that's it."
"Since it's all neat and tidy, it shouldn't bother you to talk to me. Unless everything you stated was a lie."
Lisbeth's eyes flashed. Her chin jutted. Pride, Eve saw, had been the right target.
"I don't lie. I insist on honesty, for myself and the people I'm involved with. Honesty, loyalty, and respect."
"Otherwise, you kill them. We've established that."
Something flickered in Lisbeth's eyes, then her mouth thinned and they were cool and hard again. "What do you want?"
"Just a few questions to tidy up my case file." Eve angled her head. "Don't you include neatness in your list of required virtues?"
Lisbeth stepped back. "I warn you, the minute I feel you're out of line, I'm calling my representative. I can file harassment charges."
"Note that down, Peabody. No harassing Ms. Cooke."
"So noted, Lieutenant."