“Exactly. That’s out of character for you, darling Eve.”
“It’s an experiment.” She crossed her scarred boots at the ankles. “I’m seeing if I can leave work at Central.”
“And how are you doing?”
“I’ve pretty much failed.” Still with her head back, she closed her eyes and tried to recapture some of it. “I was doing okay with it on the drive home. I saw Mavis’s billboard.”
“Ah yes. Fairly spectacular.”
“You didn’t tell me about it.”
“It just went up today. I figured you’d see it on your way home and thought it would be a nice surprise.”
“It was.” And remembering brought her smile back. “I nearly clipped a glide-cart, and I was sitting there, grinning at it, about to call her, but I had a transmission come through.”
“So work intruded.”
“More or less. It was Webster.” Because the smile was gone again, and she was scowling at the trees, she didn’t notice the slight tension in Roarke’s body. “Don Webster from Internal Affairs.”
“Yes, I remember who he is. What did he want?”
“I’m trying to figure that out. He called on my personal and asked for a private meet.”
“Did he?” Roarke murmured, his voice deceptively mild.
“He went out of his way for it, tailed me from Central. I met up with him just down the block from here, and after he got finished trying to make nice, he started a song and dance on the Kohli case.”
Just thinking about it again got her blood boiling. “Tells me how IAB wants it put away quiet, doesn’t like the idea that I’m going to look into Kohli’s financials. But he won’t confirm or deny anything. Claims it’s just a friendly, unofficial heads-up.”
“And do you believe him?”
“No, but I don’t know what he’s feeding me. And I don’t like IAB’s sticky fingers poking into my case files.”
“The man has a personal interest in you.”
“Webster?” She looked over now, surprised. “No, he doesn’t. We blew off some steam one night years back. That’s the beginning and end of it.”
For you, perhaps, Roarke thought, but let it go.
“Anyway, I can’t figure if the meet was really about Kohli or if it’s more about the Ricker connection.”
“Max Ricker?”
“Yeah.” Her eyes sharpened. “You know him. I should’ve figured that.”
“We’ve met. What’s the connection?”
“Kohli worked on the task force that busted Ricker about six months back. He wasn’t a key player, and Ricker slithered through, but it had to cost him a lot of time and money. Could be Ricker put out contracts and is getting some of his own back by whacking cops.”
“What I saw in Purgatory today didn’t seem like Ricker’s style.”
“I don’t figure he’d want his fingerprints on it.”
“There’s that.” Roarke was silent for a moment. “You want to know if I ever did business with him.”
“I’m not asking you that.”
“Yes, you are.” He took her hand, kissed it lightly, then got to his feet. “Let’s have a walk.”