“LT, Reineke stopped to get—” He broke off, sniffed the air like a hound on the hunt. “That’s real coffee. Sticky buns? Roarke’s coming to the briefing?”
“No.”
Jenkinson—fast on his feet—already had a mouthful of bun. “Sent ’em? Nice.”
“No, he didn’t send them.” It griped, sincerely. “He’s not the only one who can think of stuff.”
“We got the best LT in the history of LTs.” Very fast on his feet. “How’s Peabody?”
“She’s coming in unless I hear differently, so you can see for yourself.”
Reineke came in with a couple of vending machine coffees. Like his partner, he sniffed the air. He dumped the coffees in the recycler, hit the pot with one hand, the pile of buns with the other.
“Roarke’s the man!”
“I got the damn buns. I got the damn coffee. I’m the man.”
“The man,” Reineke said with his mouth full.
Baxter walked in with Trueheart, said, “Score! Where’s—”
“Ix-nay on the oarke-ray,” Jenkinson warned.
“How will I ever break your diabolical code?” In disgust, Eve poured herself more coffee.
Others wandered in, had their Roarke comments and questions stifled as the piles of buns and pastries depleted.
Then attention—even for sticky buns—shifted as Peabody came in with McNab.
Slight limp, Eve noted, because she favored the right knee, some NuSkin on facial cuts and scrapes, but all in all Peabody looked okay. Even a little flushed as fellow officers gave her high fives and fist bumps.
Trueheart poured her coffee, doctored it her way. McNab got her a chair, then pulled another over, lifted her bad leg onto it.
“Doc said it’d be good to keep it elevated when she’s sitting,” McNab explained.
“Fine.” And sitting would be what she’d do until the knee healed. But she’d hit her partner with that order in private. “Let’s settle down, get started. We’ve got a long one coming.”
During the shuffle, Whitney came in. He raised his eyebrows at what was left of the sticky buns and Danishes. “Are those Jacko’s? Roarke doesn’t miss a trick.”
Jenkinson cleared his throat. “We owe the glory of the sticky buns and the real, Commander, to the generosity of Lieutenant Kick-Ass Dallas. She’s the man.”
Applause followed.
“That’s enough sucking up. Put your own kick-asses in chairs.”
“Before you begin, Lieutenant—and let me add my thanks for the coffee and pastries—I’d like to say a word.”
Whitney took a moment to scan the room. “First, I want you to know that Chief Tibble would have been here himself this morning but he’s in East Washington attending a convention. He was, however, kept fully informed, and sends his congratulations and appreciation for a job well done. I’ll add mine to his. Yesterday, you struck a hard blow against the lawlessness that has plagued two neighborhoods of this city. Through your actions and the investigation that led up to them, you’ve apprehended multiple suspects we believe are responsible for three murders, and others who have committed crimes of violence and intimidation against the people we serve.
“I have no doubt that what you do today will rid those neighborhoods, our streets, our city of nearly three dozen individuals who preyed on it. To each of you, good work. Damn good work.”
He glanced at Eve. “I won’t keep you from doing the work that needs to be done to close this out. We’ll have a media conference this afternoon—time to be determined. Chief Tibble will return from East Washington today and attend, as will I, Agent Teasdale representing the FBI, the prosecuting attorney, and APA Reo, Lieutenant Dallas as primary of the investigation, with Detectives Peabody and Strong, and Captain Feeney representing ED
D.”
He smiled at her. “No good deed, Lieutenant. Kyung will let you know the when and where later today.”
“Yes, sir.”