“And say, okay, maybe you can’t get to the head, not at first, but you get a good hold on one of those tentacles, then—”
“I get it, Peabody.” Because she now had an image of a giant octopus swimming in her head, Eve was relieved when her dash ’link signaled. “Dallas.”
“So, what’s up?”
“Nadine.” Eve let her glance shift down to the screen where Nadine Furst, a very hot property in media circles, beamed out at her.
“Media conference, you as the department’s spokesperson—I know you love that one.”
“I’m primary.”
“I got that.” On screen, Nadine’s cat eyes were sharp and searching. “But what gives this one enough juice? A dead woman in the park, identity yet to be given.”
“We’ll give her name at the conference.”
“Give me a hint. Celebrity?”
“No hints.”
“Come on, be a pal.”
The trouble was, they were pals. Moreover, Nadine could be trusted. And at the moment, Nadine had plenty of juice of her own. She could, Eve mused, be useful.
“You’re going to want to come to the media conference, Nadine.”
“I’ve got a conflict. Just—”
“You’re going to want to be there, and when it wraps, you’re going to want to find your way to my office.”
“Offering me a one-on-one after a media announcement takes off the shine, Dallas.”
“You’re not getting a one-on-one. Just you, just me. No camera. You’re going to want to do this, Nadine.”
“I’ll be there.”
“That was smart,” Peabody said when Eve clicked off. “That was really smart. Bring her in, bargain, and get her resources and contacts.”
“She’ll keep a lid on what I ask her to keep a lid on,” Eve agreed. “And she’s the perfect funnel for any departmentally sanctioned leaks.” She parked, rolled her shoulders. “Let’s go harass Dickhead.”
Dick Berenski had earned his nickname. Not only did he have a head like an egg covered with slick black hair, his personality was oilier than a tin of sardines. He was slippery, sleazy, and not just open to bribes—he expected them.
But despite being a dickhead, he ran a top-flight lab and knew his business as well as he knew the exact location of the dimples on the ass of this month’s centerfold.
Eve strode in, moving by the long white counters and stations, the clear-walled cubes. She spotted Berenski scooting back and forth on his stool in front of his counter, tapping his spider-leg fingers on keyboards or tapping them to screens.
For a dickhead, she thought, he was hell at multitasking.
“Where’s my report?” she demanded.
He didn’t bother to look up. “Back up, Dallas. You want it fast or you want it right?”
“I want it fast and right. Don’t fuck with me on this one…Dick.”
“I said, ‘Back up.’”
She narrowed her eyes because when he swung around on the stool, there was fury on his face. Not his usual reaction to anything.
“You think I’m screwing with this?” he snapped out. “You think I’m jerking off here?”