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“Don’t point.”
Eve glanced casually over her shoulder. She saw the red bag, and the tall, gangly man in a gray field jacket and black watch cap.
“You gotta go get him. Hundred dollars for the set,” Tiko said to a woman who stopped to browse his stock. “Today only. You go on and get him.”
Where the hell were her uniforms? “I got cops coming.”
“You a cop.”
“I’ll take these,” the woman said, digging out her wallet.
Tiko grabbed a clear plastic bag. “He’s gonna go in!”
“I’m Homicide. Is there a dead body in there?”
“How do I know?” He managed to bag the cap and scarf, take the money, make change, and stare holes through Eve.
“Crap. You stay here. You stay exactly here.”
To keep from drawing attention, she crossed at the light, kicked it up to a weaving sprint, ignored the curses from people she bumped aside. She kept the bagman in her crosshairs, and was less than three yards behind him when he turned into a storefront offering New York City souvenirs, including T-shirts at three for $49.95.
She pulled open the door. Short, narrow shop, she noted, evaluating quickly. One male, one female working the side counter, and the bagman heading straight back.
Goddamn uniforms, she thought.
“Help ya?” the woman said, without much interest.
“Yeah, I see something I want.” Eve strode up behind the bagman, tapped his shoulder. She angled so his body was between her and the counter, in case the others got frisky, then held up her badge. “You’re busted.”
The woman at the counter scr
eamed as if an ax cleaved her skull. In the split second that distracted Eve, the bagman’s elbow connected with her cheekbone. Stars exploded.
“Goddamn it.” Eve rammed her knee up his ass, and backhanded him into the T-shirt display. With the side of her face yipping and her weapon in her hand, she pivoted. “Lady,” she warned as the woman scrambled over the counter in a bid for the front door. “One more step and I stun you stupid. On the floor. On the fucking floor, facedown, hands behind your head. You.” She jerked her head toward the counterman who stood with his hands high in the air. “You’re good. Stay like that. And you.”
She gave the bagman an annoyed boot. “Why’d you have to go and do that? It’s all worse now, isn’t it?”
“I just came in here to buy a T-shirt.”
“Yeah? Were you going to pay for it out of one of these?” She toed the collection of wallets and handbags that spilled out of the shopping bag.
She stared blandly at the two uniforms who rushed in from the street. “Gee, sorry, guys. Did I interrupt your coffee break? Check the back. I believe I detect suspicious activity in this establishment.” She pressed her fingers lightly to her throbbing cheek. “Fucking A. And call for a wagon to haul these fuckheads in. Robbery, trafficking in stolen goods—”
“Hey, Lieutenant! There’s a couple hundred wallets and bags back here. And credit/debit card and ID card dupes.”
“Yeah?” Eve smiled winningly at the now very sad-eyed man with his hands in the air. “Fraud, identity theft. The gift that keeps on giving.”
It took another twenty minutes, but when Eve crossed the street again, Tiko stood exactly where she’d told him.
“I told them, the cops when I saw them coming.” He bounced on the toes of his black skids. “I told them where.”
“You did good.”
“You gotta mouse coming on. You get in a fight with the suspicious character?”
“I kicked his ass. Break it down, Tiko. You’re done for today.”
“I can get another hour in, make up for going downtown and all.”
