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“Yes, sir. Well, sir, I think he’s too mad to ask for representation at this time. Mad, Lieutenant, plus he wants to go a few rounds with you. In my opinion. The subject referred to you in…inflammatory terms during transport.”

“And here I was planning to be nice to him. Stand by, Trueheart. You can go to Observation if you want. We’ll need you to transport the subject, one way or the other, after interview.”

“Yes, sir, thank you, sir. And I’d like to express my appreciation for your assistance in having me transferred from stiff-scooping detail to Central.”

“The transfer was easy, Trueheart. Staying here will be up to you. Are we set?” she asked Peabody and Feeney.

She opened the door, strolled inside.

Stiles sat at the small table, his arms crossed, his face mutinous. He sent Eve one steely glare. “And what is the meaning of this outrage, Lieutenant Dallas? I want an explanation as to why I was removed from my home by two uniformed officers and shoved into the backseat of a police car.”

“Peabody, make a note to speak with said uniformed officers. No shoving.”

“So noted, sir.”

“Record on,” she said meandering to the table. “Interview with subject Kenneth Stiles, regarding case number HS46178-C. Dallas, Lieutenant Eve, as primary. Also in attendance Feeney, Captain Ryan, and Peabody, Officer Delia. Mr. Stiles, have you been informed of your rights and obligations in this matter?”

“The cop with peach fuzz on his chin recited the standard. I want to know—”

“And do you understand these rights and obligations, Mr. Stiles?”

He showed his teeth. “I’m not a nitwit; of course I understand them. I insist—”

“I apologize for the inconvenience.” She settled back, tried out a smile. There was no need to repeat the revised Miranda and remind him he could holler lawyer. “I realize this is unpleasant for you, again apologize for the inconvenience, and will try to expedite this interview.”

Feeney gave a sharp snort so that Eve sent him a quick, worried look that had Stiles shifting in his seat.

“What is this about?” Stiles demanded. “I have a right to know why I’ve been dragged down here like a common criminal.”

“You’ve been read your rights, Stiles.” Feeney’s voice was clipped and harsh. “Now we’re the ones who ask the questions.”

“I’ve already answered questions. I don’t know anything other than what I’ve already told Lieutenant Dallas.”

“I guess you don’t know anything about that poor slob who ended up dangling by his neck a couple feet off the floor, either.”

“Feeney.” Eve held up her hands for peace. “Easy.”

Feeney folded his arms over his chest and tried to look burly. “He keeps pulling my chain, I’m pulling his back.”

“Let’s take a minute. Want some water?”

Stiles blinked at her, baffled. He’d been ready to rip into Eve, and now she was giving him sympathetic looks and offering him water. “Yes, yes, I would.”

“Why don’t you offer him a snack while you’re at it?”

Ignoring Feeney, Eve rose to fill a small cup with lukewarm water. “Mr. Stiles, some new information has come to light regarding your relationship with Richard Draco.”

“What new information? I told you—”

“I said we ask the questions.” Feeney came half out of his chair. “You didn’t tell us squat. You didn’t tell us you kicked Draco’s face in, did you? A guy puts another guy in the hospital, maybe he finds a way to come back around and put him in the ground.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Stiles’s voice was smooth, even, but his hand trembled lightly as he took the cup of water.

“Mr. Stiles, I’m going to warn you that there’s a very stiff penalty for lying in interview.” Eve leaned forward so that Stiles would focus on her face. “You don’t want that kind of trouble; take my word for it. You cooperate with me, and I’m going to do what I can to straighten this out. If you’re not straight with me, I can’t help you. And it’s going to be tough for you to help yourself.”

“Guy’s a coward,” Feeney said in disgust. “Takes Draco out, but hides behind some poor woman to do it.”

“I never—” The mutiny in Stiles’s eyes turned to horrified shock. “My God, you can’t believe I actually arranged Richard’s death. That’s absurd.”


Tags: J.D. Robb In Death Mystery