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“For a report?”

“That’ll be part of it. Let’s go.”

As she rose, Peabody paled a bit. “This is about my little episode with Grange, isn’t it?”

“That’ll be part of it.”

“Crap, shit, fuck. I knew it. It’s my slap, Dallas. You weren’t in on it.”

“I seem to remember not so long ago when similarly summoned someone talking about asses together in the pan.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Butts, asses, same thing. I’m also your LT, so move your butt-ass and let’s get this done.”

“I can take it,” Peabody muttered as they walked to the glides, since Eve saw a small horde pushing onto the nearest elevator. “I just don’t want it to bog down the investigation. You can feel it heating up. You know, like the pan our asses are in.”

“Funny.”

“Feeney freed up Callendar to do some of the property search. McNab’s on something else, but can get into it when he’s done.”

“That works. After Whitney I’m swinging by the morgue just to check in with Morris. Then I’m working from home. I’m going to pull our expert consultant, civilian, in on the finances. I’ll start on them, but he’ll finish before I could get halfway there.”

“Yeah, he would. No offense.”

“None taken.” She paused outside the commander’s office, got the wait signal from his admin.

“Lieutenant Dallas and Detective Peabody are here, sir. Go right in,” he told them.

Whitney sat at his desk, his broad back to the city spread behind him. His face, wide and dark, remained impassive as he gestured them forward.

Then he leaned back in his chair, folded his hands, said, “So.”

Eve, recognizing the silence as technique, kept her own. But she all but heard Peabody brace to spill, and knocked her right boot against her partner’s left to stop her.

Whitney quirked an eyebrow, gave the most subtle of nods.

“We’ll clear the decks first,” Whitney continued. “Detective Peabody, I have a complaint from Headmaster Lotte Grange of Lester Hensen Preparatory in East Washington that during her voluntary interview with you and Lieutenant Dallas this morning, you became abusive toward her in your language and tone, threatened to do physical harm, and had to be ejected from her office. Would this be accurate?”

Don’t be stupid, don’t be stupid, don’t be stupid, Eve thought as loudly as she possibly could.

Peabody took a breath, steadied herself. “No, sir, that would not be accurate.”

“In part or in total?”

“While I don’t consider my language or tone abusive, it was strong in response to the insults Headmaster Grange heaped on my family, my coworkers, my profession, and my lieutenant in her attempt to deflect the line of questioning. I did not threaten her with physical violence. I believe I told her, and stand by the statement, she wasn’t worthy to polish the boot my lieutenant would use to kick her ass. Sir.”

“So you threatened your lieutenant would use physical violence.”

“Metaphorically, Commander.”

“I see. Lieutenant?”

“Detective Peabody’s statement is accurate, Commander. Grange became insulting, which I saw as a deliberate attempt to distract, and simply her nature. Peabody used the opportunity to reset the interview.”

“‘Reset’?”

“Yes, sir. Instead of good cop/bad cop, we played hot cop/cold cop. By suggesting Peabody take a walk, leave me alone with Grange, I allowed Grange to believe she had the upper hand. Temporarily. I was able to shift the balance, and take control of the interview, with the results that are outlined in our report.


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