Purity in Death (4 page)

"My license is paid up. I got six more months till renewal, and I just had my mandatory health check. I got the okay."

"Good to know." As licensed companions went this one was on the young side and still looked fresh. The license was likely in its first year. "I'm not here about that. This concerns what happened on the fourth floor yesterday."

"Oh! Wow! That was sure something. I hid in the closet until the screaming stopped. I was really scared. There was a big fight and people got killed and stuff."

"Did you know either of the men who got killed?"

"Sort of."

"Can we come inside. Miss . . ."

"Oh, oh, I'm Reenie, Reenie Pike-well Pikowski, but I'm changing it to Pike because, you know, it's sexier. I guess so-about coming in. My trainer said how we were supposed to cooperate with the police so we didn't get rousted and stuff."

She was, Eve thought, the Trueheart of the licensed companion crowd. Still shiny and innocent despite her chosen occupation. "That's a good policy, Reenie. Why don't we all have some cooperation. Inside."

"Okay, but the place is kinda messy. I sleep during the day, mostly, especially since it's so hot. Super hasn't fixed the climate control. I don't think that's right."

"Maybe I can talk to him for you," Eve offered as she eased inside the door.

"Really? That would be great. It's hard to bring clients back here because it's too hot for sex and stuff, and I'm only licensed for street work and most street clients don't want to pop for a hotel room and stuff. You know?"

The furniture was spare, the layout identical to Cogburn's. Disorder came from scattered clothes in bright, come-hither colors, in the trio of wigs tossed about like tangled scalps and the army of cosmetic enhancements jumbled on the chest under the window.

The air was hot enough to bake cookies.

"What can you tell me about Louis Cogburn?" Eve began.

"He liked it straight and quick. No fancy stuff."

"That's really interesting, Reenie, but I wasn't really asking about his sexual preferences. But since you mention it, was he a regular client?"

"Sort of." She moved around the room, picking up clothes, tossing them into a closet. "Once every couple weeks since I moved in. He was real polite about it, said how it was nice having anLCright in the building. He said how we could work out a trade, but I told him I'd sooner the money 'cause I'm saving up for on-call status, and I don't do illegals and stuff. Oh." She slapped a hand on her mouth. "I didn't mean to say about him dealing, but I guess it's okay since he's dead."

"And stuff. Yeah, we know about his business. Did he ever fight with any of the other tenants before yesterday?"

"Oh no, nuh-uh. He was real quiet, and like I said, polite and stuff. Kept to himself mostly."

"Did he ever mention Ralph Wooster or Suzanne Cohen to you, any problem or grudge he had regarding them?"

"Nuh-uh. I sort of know Suze. Sort of. I mean to say hello to, and howzit. And just a few days ago we sat out on the stoop and had a brew 'cause it was so hot inside. She's nice. She said how she and Ralph were thinking about getting married and stuff. She works at a 24/7 around the corner and he does the bouncing at a club. I forget which one. Maybe I should go see her in the hospital."

"I bet she'd appreciate that. Did you notice anything different about Mr. Cogburn in the last few days?"

"Sort of. Hey, you want a cold drink? I got some Fizzy Lemon."

"No, that's okay. You go ahead."

"I could use some water," Peabody put in. "If you don't mind."

"Sure, okay. Is it hard being a cop and stuff?"

"It can be." Eve watched Reenie's pert little butt lift as she bent down to find her Fizzy Lemon in the fridgie. "But it shows you . . . all sides of the human condition."

"You see lots as anLC, too."

"What did you see different about Mr. Cogburn recently?"

"Well . . ." Reenie came back with a glass of water for Peabody, then took a moment to sip delicately at her soft drink. "Take the day Suze and I were on the stoop. Louie K. walked up on his way in. He looked kinda bad, you know all pale and sweaty and tuckered out and stuff. So I said, you know, hot enough for you? And he gave me this real nasty look and told me I should keep my mouth shut if all I could say was something stupid."

Her unpainted lips moved into a pretty little pout. "Really hurt my feelings, but you know, Louie K.'s just not mean like that and he really didn't look good, so I said, aw, Louie K., you look all worn out. You want some of my brew? And for a minute, he looked like he was gonna be nasty again, and Suze got all stiff. But then he sort of rubbed at his face and said how he was sorry he said that, and how the heat was getting to him and he had this bad headache and stuff. I said I had some blockers if he wanted, which, I guess, was stupid, too, 'cause of his business. But he didn't say so and just said how he'd maybe lay down awhile and try to sleep off the headache."

She paused a minute as if thinking it through. "And like that," she concluded.

"Did you see him between that time and yesterday?"

"Not to see. But I heard him yesterday morning. I was sleeping, but he woke me up pounding on the super's door and yelling at him to fix the climate control. He was cursing up a streak, which wasn't something you heard him do a whole lot, but the super didn't open the door, and Louie K., he went on back up, not out like he did most days."

"He went back up to his apartment after trying the super."

"Yeah, and that's kinda strange 'cause Louie K. was really, you know, like disciplined about work. I don't think he'd gone out for a while, now that you mention it. Anyway I was getting dressed yesterday when I heard all the yelling and the crashing upstairs. I only peeked out for a second, and saw that cute cop come running in. Then I hid in the closet. The cute cop was calling out for somebody to call 911. I guess I should've, but I was awfully scared and stuff."

"You heard the responding officer call for someone to call for police backup?"

Reenie bowed her head. "Yeah. I'm sorry I didn't help, but I thought somebody else would and I was scared. I guess it wouldn't have made a difference anyway because it all got over pretty fast. The cop guy, the cute guy, I think he's a real hero to go up there the way he did when everybody else stayed inside where it was safe. Maybe, if you see him and stuff you could tell him I said so. And I feel bad I didn't help."

"Sure," Eve replied. "I'll let him know."

***

Rather than write an updated report, Eve opted to go straight to Commander Whitney with an oral. She had to wheedle a five-minute window through the commander's assistant but she was willing to take what she could get for the impact of a face-to-face.

"Thank you for making time, Commander."

"If I could make time, my day would be a lot less harried. Make it fast, Lieutenant."

He continued to read whatever data was on his desk screen. His profile was stony. The bulk of him suited the large and currently cluttered desk as did the weight of his command. Both that bulk and that weight, Eve had reason to know, carried steely muscle.

"Regarding the incident involving Officer Trueheart, sir. I've gathered additional data, which indicates the terminated assailant may have suffered from a preexisting that caused his death. ME Morris is still running tests but has stated that due to this condition the subject would have died within the hour."

"Morris shot me a brief prelim on that. You have loyal associates, Dallas."

"Sir. Trueheart has completed Testing by now. Results should be in by morning. I'd like to postpone any IAB involvement until the investigation into yesterday's incident shows clearly if any such involvement is warranted or necessary."

Whitney turned to her now, his wide, dark face closed. "Lieutenant, do you have any reason to believe that a standard IAB investigation and interview will cast any shadow on the actions taken by this officer?"

"No, Commander."

"Then let it ride. Let it ride," he repeated before she could speak. "Let the boy stand for himself. Let him clear himself. He'll be the better for it. Having you in his corner is one thing. Having you stand as a shield is another entirely."

"I'm not trying to . . ." She trailed off, realizing she was doing just that. "Permission to speak frankly, Commander."

"As long as it's brief."

"I feel some responsibility as I brought Trueheart in from his former detail. A few months ago he was seriously injured on one of my ops. He follows orders to the letter and he has a lot of spine. But his instincts are still developing, and his skin's still thin. I just don't want to see him take any more hits over this than he deserves."

"If he can't stand up to it, better he finds out now. You know that, Dallas."

"If there's a preexisting, mandatory thirty day can be waived. You know that, Commander, as you know the emotional and mental distress even a by-the-book suspension can bring on. He responded to a call for help. He put himself on the line, without hesitation."

"He failed to call for backup."

"Yes, sir, he did. Did you ever fail to call for backup?"

Whitney's eyebrows lifted. "If I did, I deserved to get kicked for it."

"I'll kick him."

"I'll consider the waiver, Lieutenant, once all data and results are in and studied."

"Thank you, sir."

***

Huddled in his cube, Halloway ran another series of scans on the Cogburn unit. And groused.

Play a little Crusader on your break, and you get all the shit details dumped on you. Who the hell cared about the data stored on the drive of a dead kiddie dealer's unit? What was Feeney going to do? Tattle on the pint-sized clients to their mommies?

Four hours, he thought, and popped a blocker for the vicious headache trumpeting inside his skull. Four frigging hours dicking with useless data on a useless second-rate unit all because bigshot Dallas comes begging to bigshot Feeney.

He sat back, rubbed his blurry eyes.

He couldn't get past the shield on this Purity transmission. Cogburn hadn't generated the message. That much he'd verified. It had come from outside, but so the fuck what?

Absolute Purity. Probably some sort of baby lotion.

His head was killing him. And God, it was hot in here. Damn climate control must've gone out again. Nobody did their jobs anymore. Nobody but him.

He shoved away from the desk, pushed out of his cube, desperate for water, for air.

He elbowed other cops out of his way, earned himself some inventive suggestions on self-gratification.

At the water cooler, he glugged down cup after cup as he tracked the movements of his associates.

Look at them. Like a bunch of ants in a nest. Somebody ought to do the world a favor and squash some ants.

"Hey, Halloway." McNab bounced in fresh from a field assignment. "How's it going? Heard you caught a shit detail."

"Fuck you, asshole."

Temper rolled over McNab's face, but then he noted Halloway's pallor, and the beads of sweat. "You look a little wasted. Maybe you should take a break."

Halloway downed more water. "Somebody's gonna get wasted. Get off my case before I show the rest of these dickweeds what a pansy Feeney's pet really is."

"You got a problem with me?" If so, it was a new one. To that point McNab and Halloway had flowed along smoothly. "We can take it down to the gym and work it out. See who's the pansy of EDD."

Feeney swept in, stopped by the cooler when he felt the hot wall of tension. "McNab, I want that report ten minutes ago. Halloway, you got all this time to stand around the cooler I can find more for you to do. Move it."

"Later," Halloway muttered under his breath, and stalked back to his cube with his head raging.

Chapter 4

With Peabody in tow, Eve stopped by the hospital for a followup interview with Suzanne Cohen. The woman was weepy and despondent, having discovered her affection for Ralph ran considerably deeper now that he was dead.

But she had nothing appreciable to add to the mix. Her version of the incident on the stoop followed Reenie's, as did her basic take on Louie K.

He was quiet, except for his music, and kept mostly to himself.

"Isn't that always the way?" Eve noted. "Every time you've got some guy going on a spree that ends in blood, people say he was quiet and kept to himself. Just once, I'd like to hear how he was a maniac who ate live snakes."

"There was that guy last year who bit off the heads of pigeons before he jumped off the roof of his apartment building."

"Yeah, but he only splattered himself, and we didn't catch that one. No point in trying to cheer me up with pigeon eaters." Despondent herself, Eve pulled out her beeping communicator. "Dallas."

"Thought you'd want an update," Morris began. "I'm still running tests, and results in are largely inconclusive."

"Boy, that sure perks me up."

"Patience, Dallas, patience." His face was glowing the way some people glowed when they claimed to have found Jesus, Eve thought.

"What we've got here is worthy of a write-up in medical journals across the land. This guy's brain is fascinating. Like it was under attack from the inside. But there's no tumor, no mass, no sign of disease as such."

"But there's damage. Brain damage."

"I'll say. Like someone set microscopic charges inside it. Biff, bam, boom. You know how I likened it to an overinflated balloon?"

"Yeah."

"Picture this balloon, in an enclosed space, in this case, the skull. Balloon swells, bigger, bigger. Space stays the same. It keeps pushing, expanding, but it's got no place to go. Pressure builds, builds, builds. Capillaries burst. Ping, ping, ping. Nose bleeds, ear bleeds until . . . Pop!"

"That's a really pretty image."

"Poor sucker had to be suffering from major headaches. The Mount Vesuvius of headaches. I've sent tissue to the lab for further analysis, and I'm calling in a neurologist."

"Would this damage have caused his sudden violent behavior?"

"I can't tell you that, not conclusively. But the pain may have pushed him over the edge. Pain's nature's warning system. Ouch, something wrong with me. Enough pain though, can drive you crazy. And, an invasive body such as a tumor in the brain can cause aberrant behavior. This brain was, unquestionably, invaded."

"By what?"

"The best I can tell you is it looks like some sort of neurological virus. Pinning that down isn't going to be quick work."

"Okay, get me what you can when you can." She clicked off. "Looks like it's moving out of the area of police problem and into medical problem. We'll close it up. Subject, suffering from as yet undiagnosed neurological disorder, assaults and kills neighbor, attacks another. Police response results in death of assailant. Trueheart's just got to hold on through the IAB bullshit."

"Are you going to let him know the guy was mostly dead before the stun?"

"Yeah, but he should handle IAB first. Whitney's right. I go standing in front of him, it makes him look weak."

"He's not, you know." Peabody smiled a little. "He's just . . . pure."

"Yeah, well, his purity's a little soiled now, and he'll probably be better off. We'll swing into EDD and see if they've pinned down the other Purity. I want to tie this up and put it away."

***

In his cube, Halloway raged and he sweated and he worked. He didn't know he was dying, but he knew, he knew
damn well
he was being abused.

He couldn't remember, not exactly, why he had this old and crappy data center on his work counter. But he remembered, oh he remembered, the way Feeney had slapped at him, how Feeney had humiliated him.

And McNab, that asshole, breezing up and sneering. Laughing at him behind his back. Laughing right in his face. Why was he the one who always got the plum assignments? Those plums should go to Colleen Halloway's son, Kevin. And they would if that backstabber McNab didn't kiss Feeney's ass every chance he got.

They were holding him down, holding him back. Both of them, he thought as he swiped his forearm over his sweat-drenched face. Trying to ruin him.

They weren't going to get away with it.

God. God! He wanted to go home, go to bed. He wanted to be alone in his own place, away from this heat, away from this noise, away from the pain.

His vision blurred as he stared down into the guts of the unit Feeney had ordered him to work on.

And he saw McNab's guts spread out and gleaming under his hands.

Take it down to the gym? He let out a little snort that ended on a sob. Hell with that! Hell with them. He pushed to his feet, closed his hand over his holstered weapon. Drew it.

They'd handle this here and now. Like men.

***

Eve stepped into the glide. "I don't need you for this, Peabody."

"Sir, I'm your faithful aide. I feel obliged to stay close to your side."

"If you think you're coming up to EDD with me so you can play grab-ass with McNab, you're very much mistaken, faithful aide."

"The thought never crossed my mind."

"Is that so? Why are your pants on fire?"

Peabody grinned. "They're not because I'm not lying. I was thinking of pat-ass, not grab-ass. His is so skinny it's kind of tough to grab a good handful."

She hopped off beside Eve, and since she thought she saw her lieutenant's mouth twitch in what might have been a smile rather than the usual muscle tic during such conversations, she pushed.

"And I can get a firsthand on the status of Cogburn's unit, write that area of the report for you. As your faithful and hardworking aide."

"That's a good bribe, Peabody. You make me proud."

"I've learned from the master."

They finished the hike across the breezeway that connected EDD, turned toward the detectives' sector. And all hell broke loose.

Shouts, the distinctive hum of a fired weapon, the scramble of feet. Eve's weapon was in her hand, and she was running before she heard the first crash.

A cop rolled out of the doorway as others came rushing down corridors.

"He zapped him! Jesus Christ, he zapped him. Call for medical."

"Who's down? Detective, give me the situation."

"I-God. McNab's down."

Eve grabbed Peabody's arm as her aide started to spring forward. "Hold!" she ordered as the muscles trembled under her hand. "Officer down, officer down!" she snapped into her communicator. "EDD, Detectives' level. Give me the goddamn situation."

"I don't know! Halloway, he just walked up to McNab's cube. Zapped him, then everybody's running and Halloway's screaming, firing streams. He's got the captain. I saw him take the captain."

"Keep out!" Eve strode to the door, ordered the cops who poured out of doors and hallways to stay clear. "We've got a potential hostage situation, at least one wounded. I need this area secured. I need a negotiator. Peabody, inform the commander of this situation."

"Yes,
sir.
" Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. "McNab."

"We're going in. Draw your weapon." She eased closer, lowering her voice for Peabody alone. "If you can't handle this, say so now. You won't help them if you can't maintain."

"I can. I will." Fear had already blown through her, and out again. "We have to get in there."

"Hold fire," Eve called out. "Hold fire."

She went in slow, sweeping first. Cops were scattered, cubes blasted, some of them still smoking. She saw a clutch of them huddled on the floor-McNab's cube-she noted, and felt a gathering of ice in her belly. More were outside of Feeney's office, shouting through the door.

"I'm Lieutenant Dallas!" she had to shout to be heard. "I'm in charge here until Commander Whitney takes over this situation. You men, get away from that door."

"He's got the captain! He's got the captain in there."

"Get the hell away from the door. Now! What's McNab's status?"

She could see him now, lying unconscious, his face white as bone. She said nothing when Peabody dropped down beside him, checked his pulse.

"He's alive." Peabody responded shakily. "Pulse is thready."

"Didn't take a full stun. Detective Gates." A woman with zebra-striped hair stepped forward. "I saw Halloway walk up to the cube. Something off about it, then I saw the weapon. I yelled something. McNab looked around, saw, he shoved off his chair and Halloway's stream took him down. It was bad. It was bad, but I don't think it was a full stun."

"Medical's on the way. I need eyes in Feeney's office. Get me eyes in there. For now, get me to a 'link station so I can talk to him. Peabody, assess how many are wounded and in what condition."

She snagged a 'link, ordered transmission to Feeney's. It beeped, beeped, beeped. And her heart thundered.

"This is Captain Fucking Halloway." Halloway's face, nearly as white as McNab's, filled the screen. The whites of his eyes were cracked with red lines, and a dribble of blood leaked from his nose. "I'm in charge here!"

He screamed it, then stepped back so Eve saw him holding his weapon under Feeney's jaw.

One stream, she thought numb with fear, instant death.

"This is Lieutenant Dallas."

"I know who the hell you are. Grandstander. I outrank you now. What the hell do you want?"

"It's what you want that's at issue, Halloway."

"
Captain
Halloway."

"Captain." Her eyes met Feeney's. A thousand messages passed between them in a split second. "If you'd tell me, sir, what it is you want, what seems to be the problem, we can clear everything up without further violence. You don't want to hurt Captain Feeney. I won't be able to help you get what you want if you hurt Captain Feeney."

"You need to talk to us, son." Feeney's voice was calm as a lake. "Tell us what the problem is."

"You're the problem, and I'm not your son. So shut up! Shut up!" He jerked Feeney's head back with his weapon, and broke transmission.

Every cell in Eve's body screamed to rush the door. Every instinct, every hour of training, ordered her to hold back.

"Eyes. Get me eyes in there now! I want all available data on Halloway. If he's married, get his wife in here or on a 'link. Get me his mother, his brother, his priest. Whoever he's most likely to listen to. I want all nonessential personnel out of this area. Who in here knows Halloway best?"

Shocked faces, grim faces, angry faces looked back at her. It was Gates who finally spoke. "I guess we all thought we knew him. This doesn't make sense, Lieutenant."

"Talk to him." Eve pointed to the 'link. "Keep it calm and friendly. You ask him what he wants, what we can do for him. Don't criticize him. Don't say anything to set him off. Just keep him talking."

She turned away, moving just out of range and pulled out her communicator. "Commander."

"On my way." His face might have been carved in granite. "Situation?"

She relayed it, fast and brief.

"Negotiator is also on his way. What do you need?"

"Sharpshooters. I'm getting eyes, but at this point I can't ascertain target area. Feeney usually keeps his shades up, but they might be lowered. Rushing the room or shutting it down is too risky. He'd drop Feeney before we could get to him."

"I'm two minutes away. Keep him talking. Find out what he wants."

"Yes, sir." She moved back toward the 'link. Gates tapped manually on the keys of a mini-unit.

He's not listening to me. Incoherent, scattered. No answers. Looks sick.

Eve nodded and took over the 'link. "You okay in there, Captain Halloway? Need anything?"

"I need some respect! I'm not going to be ignored."

"I'm not ignoring you. You have my full attention. I am having a little trouble concentrating. If you could ease back on your weapon a little so we can talk this out."

"So you can bust in here?" His laugh was a squeaky wheeze. "I don't think so."

"No one's coming in there. There's no reason we can't resolve this without more injuries. Feeney, you'll give Halloway your word to remain seated and cooperative, won't you?"

Feeney understood the message. Stay where you are as long as possible. "Sure. I'll sit right here while we work this out."

"It's hot in here. It's too goddamn hot in here." As he spoke, Halloway used his free hand to swipe at the blood that trickled out of his nose.

Seeing it, Eve went cold. "I'll have the climate control adjusted." She gestured off-screen to Gates. "We'll cool it down in there for you. You feeling okay otherwise, Halloway?"

"No! No, I'm not feeling okay. This son of a bitch has me working until my damn eyes bleed. My head." He grabbed a handful of his own hair, yanked viciously. "My head's killing me. I'm sick. He made me sick."

"We can get you a medical. Will you let me send a medical in? You don't look well, Halloway. Let me get you some medical assistance."

"Just leave me alone." When a tear dripped out of his eye, it was tinged with blood. "Leave me alone. I need to think!"

He broke transmission.

"Status," Whitney snapped from behind her.

"He's sick. He's showing the same symptoms demonstrated by Cogburn. I can't explain it, Commander, but he's dying in there, and he could take Feeney with him. We need to get him out, get him medical assistance."

"Lieutenant. Ah, Commander." Another detective hustled up. "We've got your eyes." He managed a wan smile. "And ears with them."

With Whitney, Eve bent over a monitor. She could see the whole of Feeney's office now-the sun and the privacy shades lowered. There would be no outside visual for the sharpshooters. Feeney was in his desk chair, restraints locking his arms to its arms.

Halloway paced behind him, his young, pleasant face ravaged. His own blood smeared it like war paint. He tore at his hair with one hand, waved the weapon wildly with the other.

"I'm the one who knows what I'm doing around here." He raged, kicking Feeney's chair viciously as he passed. "I'm the one who's in charge. You're old and you're stupid, and I'm sick to death of your orders."