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“We’ll take a swing by the scene. Maybe we’ll be able to squeeze out more juice on Juicy. After, we’re going to the Bronx.”
“I guess it won’t be to catch a Yankees game.”
“DS Samuel Allo, retired. All data indicates he was a solid cop. Probability confirms my analysis with a ninety-four-point-seven.”
“I recognize the name. He was with the squad before Renee got promoted. He transferred out.”
“About seven months after she took command,” Eve confirmed. “Out of her squad, and out of Central. He put in another three-plus with Bronx PSD. Did thirty-five. He has a few bumps, and a lot more commendations. One rip—under Renee—for insubordination. Her evals of him over the seven-month period were not stellar. Coasting, she claimed, just riding out his time. Questioning her authority, balking at doing OT when deemed necessary.
“Oddly, his evals and records with the six-eight in the Bronx did not reflect his previous lieutenant’s opinion.”
“She squeezed him out.”
“That’s my take. I’m interested in his.”
Detective-Sergeant Allo had a modest house in a neighborhood of modest houses. And in the short driveway sat a huge boat.
Allo stood on the deck—the bow, Eve thought—polishing the brightwork with a rag. He took a long look when they pulled in, then laid the rag over the rail.
He had a sturdy, broad-shouldered build and carried a little extra weight in the middle. He wore a backward ballcap—Yankee blue—over hair he’d let go gray.
Retired or not, he had a cop’s eyes and gave Eve and Peabody a good once-over as he climbed off the boat, and they stepped out of the car.
“Is there a problem in the neighborhood, Detectives?”
“Not that I’m aware of. Lieutenant Dallas, Detective Peabody. Got a minute, Detective-Sergeant?”
“Got a lot of them since I retired. Put a lot of those into this baby here.” He patted the hull affectionately. “I’ve got you now,” he added with a nod. “Out of Central. Homicide. Somebody dead I know?”
“Again, not that I’m aware of. You were assigned to Illegals out of Central for a number of years, and a few months of that under Lieutenant Renee Oberman.”
“That’s a fact.”
“Would you mind telling us why you transferred out, and into the six-eight?”
His eyes stayed on Eve’s. “Can’t say why this should interest Homicide. Our son had his second kid, moved out here. My wife and I decided we wanted to be close, enjoy the grandchildren. We bought ourselves this place. The six-eight’s a lot closer to home than Central.”
“Nice house,” Eve commented. “Big boat.”
He grinned at it, very much like Mavis grinned at Bella. “I always wanted a boat. I’m shining her up. We’re going to take the family out this weekend.”
“Should be a nice one for it. Would it be fair to say, Detective-Sergeant, that you and Lieutenant Oberman didn’t mesh well?”
His face shifted back to neutral. “That would be fair.”
“Lieutenant Oberman notes in your file you had difficulty with her authority, with taking orders from a female superior.”
His jaw tightened. “What cause do you have to check my service records?”
“They’re of interest to me.”
His stance shifted, combative now. “I served thirty-five years, and I’m proud of every day I spent on the job. I don’t like an LT I never met coming to my home and questioning my record.”
“It’s not your record in question.”
His jaw remained tight, but his eyes narrowed in speculation. “You want me to dish some dirt on Lieutenant Oberman? I don’t much like you coming to my home for that either.”
She’d have been disappointed if he’d launched into a series of complaints, and trusted him more when he didn’t.
