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“I can get it in both e and print versions, Lieutenant.”
“Get both. While it’s downloading, you might want to check the schedule for upcoming detective exams. You’ve been cleared to take the next one.”
“I need to wait until the requisition clears, then . . .” Her voice trailed off.
“I said get both. Screw the requisition. Order them. I’ll cover it until the red tape clears.”
“The detective exam.” Peabody’s voice was a squeak. “I’m going to take the detective exam?”
Eve swiveled in her chair, kicked out her legs. Her aide had gone ice pale, right down to the lips. Good, Eve thought. It wasn’t a step any good cop should take lightly. “You’re cleared for it, but it’s your call. You want to stay in uniform, you stay in uniform.”
“I want to make detective.”
“Okay. Take the exam.”
“Do you think I’m ready?”
“Do you?”
“I want to be ready.”
“Then study up, take the exam.”
Her color was coming back, slowly. “You put my name up, cleared it with the commander.”
“You work under me. You’re assigned to me. It’s up to me to put your name up if I think you do good work. You do good work.”
“Thanks.”
“Now keep doing good work and get me what I told you to get me. I’ve got to go drag Baxter and Trueheart into this.”
Eve walked out. She didn’t have to look back to know Peabody was grinning.
Chapter 14
Eve found Leeanne Browning at her apartment. The professor wore a long red shirt over a black skinsuit, and had her hair bundled back in a braid.
“Lieutenant Dallas. Officer. You just caught me. Angie and I were about to head out.” She gestured them inside as she spoke. “We’re going to spend a few hours working in Central Park. The heat brings out all sorts of interesting characters.”
“Including us,” Angie said, hauling a large toolbox into the room.
Leeanne laughed, low and lusty. “Oh, absolutely including us. What can we do for you?”
“I have some questions.”
“All right. Let’s sit down and try to answer them. Is this ab
out poor Rachel? There’s a memorial service for her tomorrow evening.”
“Yes, I know. I’d like you to look at these. Do you recognize the subject?”
Leeanne took the image of Kenby, standing in front of Juilliard. “No.” While Eve watched her face, Leeanne pursed her lips. “No,” she said again. “I don’t think he’s one of mine. I’d remember this face. Striking face.”
“Good form,” Angie added, leaning over the back of the sofa. “Nice, graceful body type.”
“An excellent study. Very well done. The same, isn’t it?” Leeanne asked. “It’s the same portrait artist. Is this handsome young man dead?”
“How about this one?” Eve offered the picture of the dance troupe.
