Memory in Death (In Death #22)(4)

Another appearance-appropriate name, she decided. The man was barely five feet in height and couldn't have weighed a hundred pounds. He used the short guy's compensation swagger and wore a bright blue suit with a florid pink shirt. His hair was short, straight, reminding her of pictures of Julius Caesar.

It was ink black, like his eyes.

A silver eyetooth winked as he offered a smile.

"Something I can do for you, Officers?"

"Mr. Gant?"

He spread his hands, nodded at Peabody. "Just call me Zero."

"I'm afraid we've had a complaint. We're going to need you to come downtown and answer some questions."

"What sort of complaint?"

"It involves the sale of illegal substances." Peabody glanced to one of the privacy cubes. "Such as the ones currently being ingested by some of your clientele."

"Privacy booths." This time he raised his spread hands in a shrug. "Hard to keep your eye on everyone. But I'll certainly have those people removed. I run a class establishment."

"We'll talk about that downtown."

"Am I under arrest?"

Peabody lifted her eyebrows. "Do you want to be?"

The good humor in Zero's eyes hardened into something much less pleasant. "Bull, contact Fienes, have him meet me..."

"Cop Central," Peabody supplied. "With Detective Peabody."

Zero got his coat, a long white number that probably was one hundred percent cashmere. As they stepped outside, Eve looked down at him.

"You got an idiot on your door, Zero."

Zero lifted his shoulders. "He has his uses."

* * *

Eve took a winding route through Central, giving Zero a bored glance. "Holidays," she said vaguely as they mobbed onto another people glide. "Everybody's scrambling to clear their desks so they can sit around and do nothing. Lucky to book an interview room for an hour the way things are."

"Waste of time."

"Come on, Zero, you know how it goes. You get a complaint, you do the dance."

"I know most of the Illegals cops." He narrowed his eyes at her. "I don't know you, but there's something..."

"People get transferred, don't they?"

Off the glide, she led the way to one of the smaller interview rooms. "Have a seat," she invited, gesturing to one of the two chairs at a little table. "You want something? Coffee, whatever?"

"Just my lawyer."

"I'll go check on that. Detective? Can I have a minute?"

She stepped out, closed the door behind Peabody. "I was about to check my pockets for bread crumbs," Peabody commented. "Why did we circle around?"

"No point letting him know we're Homicide unless he asks. Far as he knows, this is a straight Illegals inquiry. He knows the ropes, knows how to grease them. He's not worried about us taking a little poke there. Figures if we've got a solid complaint, he'll fob it off, pay a fine, go back to business as usual."

"Cocky little son of a bitch," Peabody muttered.

"Yeah, so use it. Fumble around some. We're not going to get him on murder. But we establish his connection to Tubbs, let him think one of his customers is trying to screw with him. Work him so we're just trying to put this into the file. Tubbs hurt somebody, and now he's trying to foist it off on Zero. Trying to make a deal so he gets off on the possession."

"I got it, piss him off. We don't give a damn either way." Peabody rubbed her palms on her thighs. "I'll go Miranda him, see if I can establish a rapport."

"I'll see about his lawyer. You know, I bet he goes to Illegals instead of Homicide." Eve smiled, strolled off.

Outside the interview room, Peabody steadied herself, then inspired, slapped and pinched her cheeks pink. When she walked in, her eyes were down and her color was up.

"I... I'm going to turn on the record, Mr. Gant, and read you your rights. My... The lieutenant is going to check to see if your attorney's arrived."

His smile was smug as she cleared her throat, engaged the record, and recited the Revised Miranda. "Um, do you understand your rights and obligations, Mr. Gant?"

"Sure. She give you some grief?"

"Not my fault she wants to go home early today, and this got dumped on us. Anyway, we have information that indicates illegal substances have been bought and sold on the premises owned by... Shoot, I'm supposed to wait for the lawyer. Sorry."

"No sweat." He tipped back now, obviously a man in charge, and gave her a go-ahead wave. "Why don't you just run it through for me, save us all time."

"Well, okay. An individual has filed a complaint, stating that illegals were purchased from you, by him."

"What? He complain I overcharge? If I did sell illegals, which I don't, why does he go to the cops? Better Business Bureau, maybe."

Peabody returned his grin, though she made hers a little forced.

"The situation is, this individual injured another individual while under the influence of the illegals allegedly purchased through you."

Zero rolled his eyes to the ceiling, a gesture of impatient disgust. "So he gets himself juiced, then he wants to push the fact he was an ass**le onto the guy who sold him the juice. What a world."