J. Robb - Vengeance in Death

"I had some… suggestions as to Kevin's foster care facility."

"Oh?"

"I thought Richard DeBlass and Elizabeth Barrister would do well by him." He watched Eve's brows draw together. "It's been nearly a year since their daughter was murdered, since they had to deal with the cancer that had eaten away at their family. Elizabeth mentioned to me that she and Richard were thinking about adoption."

It had been the DeBlass case that had first brought Eve and Roarke together. She thought of that now – the loss and the gain. "Life cycles, I suppose."

Roarke saw the morgue team roll out the body bag. "What choice does it have? The boy needs a place. His mother knocks him around – when she's around. He's seven – at least he thinks he is. He doesn't know his birthday."

"How much are you… donating to CPS?" Eve asked dryly and made him smile.

"Enough to ensure the boy gets his chance." He touched Eve's hair. "There are too many children who end up broken in alleys, Eve. We have personal experience there."

"You get involved, it's your heart that gets broken." But she sighed. "A lot of good it does to tell you when you've already made up your mind. He had a great smile," she added.

"He did."

"I'll have to interview him. Since you're going to see that he gets shipped off to Virginia, I'd better put it higher on my list."

"I don't think you'll need him. He told me everything he knew."

"He told you?'' Her mouth went grim, her eyes hot and hard. Her cop look, Roarke thought with admiration – and a surprising tug of pure lust. "You questioned him? Goddamn it, you questioned him about an open case? A minor, without parental permission or a CPS rep present? What the hell were you thinking of?"

"A young boy – and a girl I once loved."

Eve hissed out a breath and tried to pace off the worst of the heat. After two swings up and down the sidewalk, she felt more controlled. "You know damn well I can't use anything you got. And if the kid opens his mouth about talking to you, we're in hip-deep shit. The primary investigator is married to you, the prime suspect is in your employ and has your friendship and loyalty. Anything you got the kid to say is tainted."

"And well aware you would take precisely that view, I took the precaution of recording the entire conversation." From his pocket he drew a microrecorder. "You're welcome to take it into evidence, and you yourself have witnessed that I haven't had the time or opportunity to doctor it."

"You recorded your conversation, with a minor, on an open homicide case." She threw up her hands. "That caps it."

"You're welcome," he retorted. "And though you may be reluctant to take it into evidence – though I have no doubt you could get around the letter of the law there – I don't believe you're stubborn enough to ignore it."

Seething, she snatched the recorder out of his hand and jammed it into her pocket. "First chance I get, very first chance, I'm heading to midtown and horning in on one of your board meetings."

"For you, darling Eve, my door is always open."

"We'll see if you say that with a smile when I fuck up one of your billion-dollar mergers."

"If I can watch, it would be worth it." Still smiling, he took something else out of his pocket and offered it. "Here, I saved you a chocolate stick – which was, under the circumstances, no easy task."

She frowned at it. "You think you can bribe me with candy?"

"I know your weaknesses."

She took it, yanked down the wrapper, and bit in. "I'm still pissed at you."

"I'm devastated."

"Oh, shut up. I'm taking you home," she said over the next bite. "And you're staying out of my way while I talk to Summerset."

"If you'll listen to the recording, you'll see that the man Kevin described wasn't Summerset."

"Thank you for your input, but I'll just muddle along here. The chances of me getting the commander to take the word of a seven-year-old kid – who no doubt had chocolate breath – over hard evidence is just slightly less likely than me dancing naked in Times Square."

She started off at a loping stride. "If Times Square intimidates you," Roarke began, "perhaps you could practice the naked dancing at home."

"Oh, bite me."

"Darling, I'd love to, but you're on duty."

"Get in the goddamn car." She jerked a thumb at Peabody, who was currently doing her best to pretend she was deaf and blind.

"Please, Eve, these public displays of affection must stop. I have a reputation."

"Keep it up, ace, and I'll give you a public display of affection that'll have you limping for a week."

"Now I'm excited." Smiling, Roarke opened the front passenger door, gestured to Peabody.

"Ah, why don't I sit in the back?" Where it's safer, she thought.

"Oh, no, I insist. She probably won't hurt you," he murmured in Peabody's ear as she ducked in front of him.

"Thanks. Thanks a lot."

"Just be grateful I don't put up the cage," Eve snapped when Roarke settled in to the backseat.

"I am. Constantly."

"Was that a snicker, Peabody?" Eve demanded as she pulled away from the curb.

"No, sir. It's, ah, allergies. I'm allergic to marital disputes."

"This isn't a marital dispute. I'll let you know when I'm having a marital dispute. Here." She shoved the last of the chocolate stick at Peabody. "Eat that and keep it buttoned."

"You bet."

Still fired, Eve's eyes met Roarke's in the rearview mirror. "And you better hope Summerset has an alibi for this morning."

He didn't, and all Eve could do was pull at her hair. "What do you mean you went out?"

"As usual I rose at five a.m. and went out for my morning constitutional. As it was market day, I then returned, took one of the vehicles, and drove out to the Free-Agers' market for fresh produce."

Eve sat down on the arm of a chair in the main parlor. "Didn't I tell you not to leave the house, not to go anywhere alone?"

"I'm not in the habit of taking orders on my personal routine, Lieutenant."

"Your personal routine is going to include group showers where even your bony ass will get plenty of attention if you don't start listening to me."

His jaw muscles fluttered. "I don't appreciate your crudeness."

"And I don't appreciate your bitchiness, but we're both stuck. This morning at approximately nine a.m., the body of Jennie O'Leary was discovered, hanged at a location on West Forty-third."

The high color fury had brought to his cheeks drained. He reached out blindly for support when his knees buckled. Through the buzzing in his head, he thought he heard someone swearing bitterly. Then he was being pushed into a chair and a glass was pressed to his lips.

"Just drink," Eve ordered, thoroughly shaken. "Drink it down, get a grip, because if you faint on me, I'm leaving you where you fall."

It had the effect, as she'd hoped, of snapping him back. "I'm perfectly fine. I was simply shocked for a moment."

"You knew her."

"Of course I knew her. She and Roarke were close for a time."

"And now she's dead." Eve's voice was flat, but her heart settled back into place as she scanned Summerset's face and judged him composed again. "You'd better be able to take me through every step – where you were, what you did, who you saw, who you spoke with, how many goddamn apples you bought. Right now I'm the best friend you have in the world."

"If that's the case, Lieutenant, I believe I'd like to call my lawyer."

"Fine, great, you do that. Why not fuck it up all the way?'' She whirled away to stride around the room. "You listen to me. I'm going out on a limb here because you matter to him. The evidence against you is only circumstantial, but it's piling up. There'll be pressure from the media, which translates into pressure on the department. The PA's going to want to tag someone, and the pile's just big enough on you for orders to come down to hold you for questioning. It's not enough to book you, not yet."