"I t's disgusting. You don't know who's going to walk in, or who was in there last, or what they were doing with whoever else might've been in there."

"That's a point." He sat up so they were face-to-face. "But I 'm not sure this is better." As Mira had, he laid a hand on her cheek. "You need more sleep."

"Skillet, pan."

"What?"

"You know, the skillet says the pan's the same deal."

He thought a moment. "I believe that's the pot calling the kettle black."

"Whatever, kitchen stuff can't talk anyway. McNab and Peabody made the shoe."

"Yes, I know."

"Three large for something you wear so your foot's not walking on the ground."

He decided against telling her how much he'd paid for the boots she was currently wearing. "You should be pleased. They'll be easier to track than something you could pick up for a hundred at Discount Shoes."

"True. I 've got to screw with the little b.a.s.t.a.r.d-the drug pusher-then I 'm going to go have a chat with The Third and The Fourth."

"You have fun." He leaned in to kiss her. I 'll see you at home when we get there." He stood, pulled her to her feet, then pleased himself by drawing her into his arms. "We'll catch up on all this, and each other, over dinner."

"Yeah, I ..." She leaned back, met his eyes with a smile in hers. "That's it."

"Is it?" he murmured and rubbed his lips to hers.

"Not that it. I went by to see Charles to talk to him about the second vic. And he's making breakfast for Louise because she pulled an allnighter at the clinic. I mean cooking, like with eggs and that skillet thing. And we're sitting there eating omelets-"

"You had an omelet, and I get a bag of crisps."

"I t just worked out that way. He's talking to me about LC stuff, and how he worked with the vic a couple times. And I 'm thinking isn't this weird for her, for Louise to sit there and eat breakfast while we're talking about s.e.x and S&M and clients? But it's not. I t's their deal, that's all it is. I t's kind of like you and me talking murder over dinner. I t's just part of the package."

"I like our package." He tapped her on the chin. "Try not to work my cop until she falls down."

"He's going to kill again, and soon," she said when Roarke walked to the door. "He's already booked the appointment, or at the very least keyed it into his schedule. And it won't matter who it is, but what they are. He'll enjoy it, and that really p.i.s.ses me off."

"Then think how p.i.s.sed off he'll be when you stop him."

"I 'm counting on it. See you later."

CHAPTER 10

EVE GATHERED WHAT SHE NEEDED BEFORE walking out of her office into the bullpen.

"Peabody, with me," she said, and kept walking.

Peabody scrambled to catch up. "We nailed the shoe."

"Good work. The top-when you're talking important and exclusive-vendor in the city is the designer's boutique on Madison. We'll need a list of people who bought that shoe in the size range."

"Shopping! Even if I couldn't afford the toe of a pair of socks in a place like that."

"Field work," Eve corrected. "First we're going to ruin Mitch.e.l.l Sykes's day. He's in Interview A, and he's mine. You've got the cohab in B."

"I get to work her solo." Peabody rubbed her hands together.

"I want you to go in like this is in the bag. We got everything we need to put her over, but the PA wants to save the taxpayers some money, and offer a deal. First one to lay it all out, verify the skim and scam, gets to plead to misappropriation of prescription drugs and a lighter sentence."

"Because we want her to roll on Sykes."

"We do."

"And I get to be disgusted the PA isn't fully backing our play because it's all politics and c.r.a.p. So here's the deal, sister, and you better grab it before your playmate does."

Eve rubbed her ear. "See where it takes you. I f you get a sense she's as much an a.s.shole as he is, change your tactic. We'll get them both on the whole shot. But I want to put this away fast. We've got bigger fish to bake."

"Fry. Fish to fry."

"Jesus, why would you care how metaphorically fish is cooked?"

Eve peeled off, stepped into Interview A. "Dallas, Lieutenant Eve, entering Interview with Sykes, Mitch.e.l.l. Hey, Mitch, how's it going?"

"I don't have time for this."

"Who does?"

"Look, I told you what I know about all this already. I don't have to be here, but Mr. Sweet's directive is for full cooperation with the police."

"Sweet," she said, to amuse herself. "Have you been read your rights?"

"No. Why would I-"

"I t's routine, Mitch, everybody knows that." She reeled off the Revised Miranda. "So, do you understand your rights and obligations?"

He let out a long, windy sigh. "Of course I do."

"Excellent. So, since we're both busy, let's get right to the point. You and your cohab are deep in s.h.i.t. My partner's got her down the hall and is, right now, giving her a deal. I don't want to give you one because I just don't like you."

His shoulders jerked the instant Eve mentioned his cohab. "I don't know what you're talking about, but I don't have to listen to this."

"Yeah, you do, because you're under arrest. You and your girlfriend have been procuring drugs from Dudley and Son, and selling them on the open market. I know this, have solid evidence of same-that secret account of yours isn't a secret anymore."

She smiled pleasantly while a thin line of sweat formed over his top lip. "Basically what we're doing here is just a formality, and more about my personal satisfaction." She spread her hands. "I 've got to squeeze in some fun now and again, right?"

"You ... you're making all this up."

"Got you cold, Mitch. You and Karolea Prinz stole from your own company, then profited on the weaknesses, needs, and sickness of others by distributing what you stole."

She leaned on the table, inching a little closer to his sweaty face. "You split the profits and set up a couple of offsh.o.r.e accounts under the name Sykpri Development." She watched his face go paler, paler. "The tax guys are going to have their fun with you on that deal later. But for now, it's all mine. Prinz is confirming the details right now with my partner in another interview room."

"I-I don't have anything to say. I want to talk to Karolea."

"You don't have to talk to me, but you won't be talking to her either. She's busy saving her own a.s.s at the moment. Now we can move on because it strikes me that anybody who'd steal and sell drugs, who'd have the skill to set up an account that isn't flagged by the usual regulations, wouldn't have any problem s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g with his boss's ID and credit, using that to cover his sorry a.s.s when he killed."

"I 'm not a killer!" This time his voice squeaked, just a little ratlike sound that warmed Eve's heart. "Good G.o.d, I never killed anyone."

"Well, let's see. You're a thief, a liar, an illegals pusher, as well as being a complete d.i.c.k." She sat as if weighing the notion. "Yeah, it's just a short step to murder. Maybe it went like this: You used Jamal's company and services to reach a higher-income client base, then he wants a bigger cut.

Or maybe has a change of heart. Can't have that, so you have to take him out, don't you? And why not frame your own boss-get a twofer. Maybe a nice promotion. Then-"

"No!" He leaped out of the chair, then dropped straight down again as if his legs couldn't hold him. "I didn't even know that man, that Jamal person. I 'm not a murderer!"

"Just a thief, liar, illegals pusher, and complete d.i.c.k?" She shrugged. "Convince me, because I 've got things to do, Mitch, and this one's looking all wrapped up with a bow on it."

"You're crazy." His eyes bulged and wheeled. "I t's crazy."

"That's not convincing."

"Listen ..." He tugged at the knot of his tie, wet his lips. "Okay, fine, we skimmed some inventory."

"Inventory, as in drugs. As a rep for Dudley, Karolea could access them."

"Yes. Yes. All we had to do was doctor the logs, tweak the invoices. I t's not a big deal. The company builds that kind of loss into the budget. We just wanted the money. I 'm ent.i.tled to some perks considering the hours I put in. Do you know how much my education cost? And I 'm stuck running errands for Sweet? We didn't hurt anyone. We ... we provide a service. We sell at a discount."

"You steal drugs from Dudley-"

"Karolea acquires the merchandise," he said quickly. "She handles that area. I 'm in sales."

"I see. So she acquires the drugs, and you sell them."

"Yes. We have regular customers. I t's not as if we're peddling Zeus on street corners to children. These are safe medications. We're helping people."

"Like the guy who's addicted to painkillers and buys from you instead of going to the medicals for rehab or a.s.sistance. Or the one who ODs ontranqs, or the ones who mix the chemicals to get high. Or the ones, you f.u.c.khead, who resell to kids on street corners."

"We're not responsible for-"

"Cut the c.r.a.p. You've confessed, on the record. I don't need your sob stories and justifications."

"You can't seriously believe I killed that driver."

"Oh, h.e.l.l no. I just said that so you'd spill your guts on the rest. Good job." She checked the time. "Now we can both get out of here. Me to work, you to your cell."

"But ... I want a lawyer."

"No problem. They'll let you contact one on your way to booking. Thank you for your cooperation. Interview end."

She rose, opened the door, and hailed the waiting uniforms. "Walk him through, let him contact his lawyer."

She walked into Observation and watched Peabody wrap up a weeping Karolea Prinz.

"She cried a lot," Peabody said when they headed down to the garage. "I mean a lot. She says, or thinks, she's in love with the a.s.shole. Didn't want to roll, but-"

"Push comes to shove, love goes down."

"I guess, except when it's really love. Do we get to go look at shoes now?"

"We're not looking at shoes. We know the shoe already. I want to make this quick."

"Shoes are fun." Peabody gave a little bounce of enthusiasm on her own. "I t'll be good to have the side benefit of fun after all that crying. See, it's a nice combo. Shutting down a small, yet profitable prescription drug scam, running down a lead on the investigation, and getting to gaze longingly at shoes I 'll never be able to afford, but imagining I could."

"You know what happens to people who longingly imagine having things they can't afford?"

"Happy dreams?"

"A life of crime."

As she drove, Eve considered that possibility as applied to the case. "Maybe this guy gazes longingly at fancy limos and high-priced LCs, and it just p.i.s.ses him off he can't order them up like pizza. So he vents the anger and frustration by killing them. Which isn't bad as theories go except for the shoes. When you've got three thousand to spend on a pair of designer loafers, you're not hurting."

"Maybe he stole them," Peabody suggested. "Or got them as a gift, or blew a wide chunk of his savings just to have them for his own."

"All possible, and ors that shouldn't be dismissed. But he'd also have to spend a chunk on a crossbow and bolts-pricey ones, and an antique bayonet. Unless he scammed someone else's ID to acquire those. He still has to connect somewhere to the two corporations. Otherwise, why go through all the layers on the security there?"

I t kept coming back to the companies, Eve concluded. "I f he's just a homicidal hacker, he could've accessed any IDs and credit lines-and he could afford all the fancy limos and high-priced LCs he wanted anyway, so it doesn't jell."

Eve twitched her head toward the dash comp when it signaled incoming data.

"I t's from the lab," Peabody told her. "A report on the weapon. Antique is right. I t's mid-twentieth century. d.i.c.khead's got make, manufacturer, even a serial number. Pretty thorough."

"You be thorough, start a search. Find us the owner."

I t gave Eve a few minutes of quiet. Who was next on his list? she wondered. What type? Maybe a top-drawer salon tech, private shuttle pilot, some hot, exclusive designer.

She thought of Leonardo, her oldest friend's husband. And Mavis herself, Eve thought with a clutch in her belly. Famous music vid star. She'd make a point of checking in with them, putting them on alert.