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“Yeah, Chief Angelo, Olympus PD; Lieutenant Webster, IAB,” Eve supplied.
“Internal Affairs?” Darcia offered a hand. “Are there many?”
“Enough to keep us busy. Is this your first time in New York?”
“The first with any vacation time. I had lunch with your husband,” she told Eve. “And since I was downtown, I couldn’t resist coming in and seeing how things are done here. It’s an impressive facility, from what I’ve seen.”
A couple of cops perp-walked a skinny, struggling man down the corridor.
“I was just trying to get his attention!” the man protested at the top of his lungs. “If he’da listened, I wouldn’ta had to bash him.”
“And full of such interesting people,” Darcia added.
“Yeah, we’re loaded. My office is down this way,” Eve began.
“Yo, LT!” Jacobson hailed her from the bullpen doorway. “Got a minute?”
She signaled an affirmative. “I’ll show you around,” she told Darcia.
“I’d love it. Go ahead and speak to your man. I’m just going to get something cold to drink. It’s awfully hot out there. I’ll be right along.”
“Good enough. Peabody, make that tag. I want that data asap.”
“Yes, sir. Nice seeing you, Chief. Enjoy New York.”
“I intend to.” Darcia gave her hair a little toss when Eve and Peabody walked away, then turned to study the offerings. “Hmmm.”
“Buy you a drink?” Webster offered, and she smiled.
“Yes, please.”
“So, Chief Angelo ...”
“Darcia. I’m off duty.”
“Darcia. I should’ve known the name would suit. What’ll you have?”
“Surprise me.”
In the bullpen Eve listened as Jacobson ran through the angles he’d come up with through juggling. She did some juggling of her own, keeping the balls of murder, Renee, Darcia Angelo, and now Jacobson’s brainstorm in the air.
When she’d finished with Jacobson, she was half inclined to go out and see if Darcia had gotten lost on the short walk to Homicide.
Then Olympus’s chief of police glided in.
Eve distinctly heard Baxter’s—the words were reverent again—“Oh, Mama,” as she passed his desk.
“Don’t drool on those fives,” Eve muttered, and walked over to Darcia. “Our bullpen. The way the unit’s set now, the detectives work with a regular partner or a permanent aide—whom they’re responsible for training—or they can snag one of the uniforms assigned to the unit. Case board, closed in red, open in green. There’s an excuse for a break room in the back. I don’t go there unless I have to. Occasionally somebody may take a wit back there if they want serious privacy, but it’s more usual to interview right at the desk if the wit comes in, or in the lounge—a communal break room for the level. Lockers and showers through that way.”
“An efficient space,” Darcia commented. “And a busy one.”
Eve noted Baxter easing up from his chair. She sent him a warning look that had him sighing and sitting again. “Meaning crowded and overworked, and yeah, we are. It’s a good unit. My office is down here.”
She made the turn, let Darcia in.
“It’s separate?”
“That’s the setup, and I prefer it. When the LT’s space is attached, window, door through to the bullpen, it’s like the boss is watching their every move. A guy can’t even scratch his balls in comfort. Door’s open unless I need it shut. They know where to find me.”
