“Goddamn it.”
Somebody—probably the woman—punched a shower door. Peabody heard it slap against its side wall. And just stopped breathing.
“I’ve been running this operation for six years. You’d better remember that, Garnet, you’d better remember what can happen if you push me.”
“Don’t threaten me.”
“I’m warning you. I’m in charge, and with me in charge you’ve raked in plenty the past few years. Think of your nice house in the islands, all the toys you like to play with, the women you like to buy, and remember you wouldn’t have any of them on a cop’s salary. You wouldn’t have any of them without me running this show.”
“I don’t forget, and don’t forget you get a bigger cut of every pie.”
“I earn it. I brought you in, and I made you a rich man. You want to stay in, think twice before you yank me into some moldy locker room to point fingers.”
“Nobody comes in here.” Another shower door, closer now, slammed open, and Peabody felt fresh sweat pearl on her forehead.
Naked, weapon in the locker. No defense except her fists. So she curled them by her side.
If McNab tagged her, if her ’link signaled, she was screwed. If either of the people just inches outside the door slammed it open in temper, sensed her, heard her, smelled her, she’d be trapped, back to the wall. No escape.
Bad cops. Seriously bad cops. Renee, Garnet. Don’t forget, don’t forget. Keener. Remember all the details, just in case you live through it. She glanced up, saw with horror the drip of water sliding out of the fist-sized showerhead.
Throat slamming shut, she eased out a hand, palm up, and caught the tiny drop. Wondered if the sound of it meeting her palm was actually as loud as a hammer strike.
But they kept arguing until the woman—Renee, Renee—sighed. “This isn’t getting us anywhere. We’re a team, Garnet, but a team has a leader. That’s me. Maybe that’s a problem for you, maybe it’s because we used to sleep together.”
“You’re the one who called that off.”
“Because now it’s business. We keep it business, we keep getting rich. And when I make captain, well, we’re going to expand. Meanwhile, there’s no point in arguing about Keener. I’ve taken care of it.”
“Goddamn it, Oberman. Why the fuck didn’t you say so?”
Oberman, Peabody thought. Renee Oberman. Has rank, pushing toward captain.
“Because you annoyed me. I put our boy on it, and it’s done.”
“You’re sure?”
“You know how good he is, and I said it’s done. When they find him it’ll look like an OD. Just another chemi-head who pumped in too much junk. Nobody’s going to care enough to dig into it. You’re just lucky Keener hadn’t gotten far, and he still had the ten K.”
“You’re fucking kidding me.”
The laugh was bright, and sharp as steel. “I don’t kid about money. I’m taking ten percent of your share as a bonus for our boy.”
“The hell you—”
“Be grateful you’re getting any of it.” The words slapped hard and warned of worse. “Keener was a valuable tool when worked right. Now we have to replace him. In the meantime . . .”
Peabody heard the light pat on the stall door, watched it ease open a crack. The sweat dried to ice on her skin, and she balled her fists again.
Through the crack she saw part of an arm, a glimmer of red high heels, and a flash of blond hair.
“No more locker room meets,” Renee said, tone cool now, crisp. Commanding. “You keep your head, Garnet, and you’ll keep enjoying those island breezes. Now, I’ve got a hot date, and you’ve made me late. Walk me out like a good boy.”
“You’re a piece of work, Renee.”
“I am. I am one fine piece of work.” Her laugh trailed back, echoed, faded.
And Peabody closed her eyes, stayed where she was, forced herself to count slowly to a hundred. In her mind she reconstructed the locker room, gauged the distance to the locker where she’d stowed her weapon.