Bang-Two, she thought. He’d pulled another partner/client from the Bangers, someone ambitious, looking to undermine Jones.
Jorgenson. He just kept fitting the bill.
Jones cuts back on Cohen’s take, she thought, so Cohen’s fine with the undermining.
Killing two people, putting the cops’ target on Jones’s back? Serious undermining. Just how much did Cohen know?
She put together a file—a nice, thick one—took time for another hit of coffee, then headed out.
“Let’s burn his balls, Peabody.”
Peabody aimed a look—the Officer Puppy look. “Do I have to be good cop?”
“Today? No good cops in the box.”
“Woo! He’s in Interview A.”
“He’s probably going to start bitching about false arrest, harassment, and other bollocks,” Eve said as they walked. “When we get going, it’s going to all be a big misunderstanding and how we’re guilt-by-associationing him.”
“Well, he is guilty by association.”
“Oh yeah.” Eve paused outside the Interview room. “Once he realizes we’ve got him on the tax evasion, the fraud, profiting from illegals, he’s going to start talking deal.”
“And we say screw that.”
“Depends.”
Peabody actually danced in place—the frustrated dance. “Aw, come on, Dallas.”
“How much do we care about him doing time in some white-collar cage for the tax shit? That’s the feds’ worry—but we use it as a hammer on the murders.”
“Ooooh! Squeeze him with the taxes, the fraud.” Following, Peabody nodded and changed to a quick, satisfied shuffle. “Then dangle a deal, maybe, if he flips on the rest.”
“Right. We use a deal, the idea of one, like the candy at the end of the stick.”
“It’s a carrot at the end of the stick.”
“Who the hell wants a carrot when there’s candy? Reo’s up to date, on her way in. Let’s see how it goes.”
As they walked in, Eve noted Cohen looked a lot worse for wear, and the orange jumpsuit didn’t do much for his sallow complexion.
“Record on. Dallas, Lieutenant Eve, and Peabody, Detective Delia, entering Interview with Cohen, Samuel.”
She read off the applicable case files over his as-expected bitching.
Outrageous! Demands to speak to her superior. Threats to have her badge.
“Pipe down!” Peabody snapped, with enough lash in her voice to have Cohen goggling at her.
“Who do you think you are?” he managed when he recovered.
“Peabody, Detective Delia.” She sat across from him. “Also known as your worst nightmare.”
Eve might have rolled her eyes, but Peabody coming on strong and pissy left Cohen obviously shaken.
Eve sat, set down the file, and used a flat, cool tone in contrast. “Have you been read your rights, Mr. Cohen?”
“I will not be interrogated by a pair of underlings. I demand to speak to your superior and lodge a formal complaint.”