"Was I talking to Trueheart, Peabody?" Eve said pleasantly.
"No, Lieutenant. I believe you were addressing Officer Bowers." As Peabody didn't like the woman's looks, either, she smiled. "I take cream and sugar. The lieutenant goes for black. I believe there's a 24/7 one block over. Shouldn't take you long."
Bowers stood another moment, then turned on her heel and stalked off. Her muttered "Bitch" came clearly on the cold wind.
"Golly, Peabody, Bowers just called you a bitch."
"I really think she meant you, sir."
"Yeah." Eve's grin was fierce. "You're probably right. So, Trueheart, spill it."
"Sir?" His already pale face whitened even more at being directly addressed.
"What do you think? What do you know?"
"I don't—"
When he glanced nervously at Bowers's stiff and retreating back, Eve stepped into his line of vision. Her eyes were cool and commanding. "Forget her. You're dealing with me now. I want your report on the canvass."
"I…" His Adam's apple bobbed. "No one in the immediate area admits to having witnessed any disturbance in the vicinity or any visitors to the victim's crib during the time in question."
"And?"
"It's just that—I was going to tell Bowers," he continued in a rush, "but she cut me off."
"Tell me," Eve suggested.
"It's about the Gimp? He had his crib on this side, just down from Snooks, as long as I've had the beat. It's only a couple of months, but—"
"You patrol this area yesterday?" Eve interrupted.
"Yes, sir."
"And there was a crib by Snooks's?"
"Yes, sir, like always. Now he's got it on the other side of the street, way at the end of the alley."
"Did you question him?"
"No, sir. He's zoned. We couldn't roust him, and Bowers said it wasn't worth the trouble, anyway, because he's a stone drunk."
Eve studied him thoughtfully. His color was back, pumped into his cheeks from nerves and the slap of the wind. But he had good eyes, she decided. Clear and sharp. "How long have you been out of the academy, Trueheart?"
"Three months, sir."
"Then you can be forgiven for not being able to recognize an asshole in uniform." She cocked her head when a flash of humor trembled on his mouth. "But I have a feeling you'll learn. Call for a wagon and have your pal the Gimp taken down to the tank at Central. I want to talk to him when he's sobered up. He knows you?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then you stay with him, and bring him up when he's coherent. I want you to stand in on the interview."
"You want me to—" Trueheart's eyes we
nt huge and bright. "I'm assigned to Lite—Bowers is my trainer."
"Is that how you want it, Officer?"
He hesitated, blew out a quiet breath. "No, sir, Lieutenant, it's not."