In Death 04 - Rapture in Death

them moved. The laughter started again, continued as they grabbed onto each other like drunks and staggered to their feet. "Leave the car," he decided.
    "Uh-huh." They limped off, weaving. "Clothes? Shoes?"
    "Leave them, too."
    "Good plan."
    Snickering like children breaking curfew, they stumbled up the steps, shushing each other as they fell through the door.
    "Roarke!" Shocked tones, rushing feet.
    "I knew it," Eve muttered dourly. "I just knew it."
    Summerset rushed out of the shadows, his normally set face alive with shock and worry. He saw tattered clothes, bruised skin, wild eyes. "Was there an accident?"
    Roarke straightened up, kept his arm around Eve's shoulders as much for balance as support. "No. It was on purpose. Go to bed, Summerset."
    Eve glanced over her shoulder as she and Roarke helped each other up the stairs. Summerset stood at the base, gaping. The picture pleased her so much, she snickered all the way to the bedroom.
    They fell into bed, exactly as they were, and slept like babies.

CHAPTER SEVEN
    At shortly before eight the next morning, a bit sore and fuzzy-brained, Eve sat at her desk in her home office. She considered it more of a sanctuary than an office, really, the apartment Roarke had built for her in his home. Its design was similar to the apartment where she had lived when she'd met him, which she'd been reluctant to give up.
    He'd provided it so that she could have her own space, her own things. Even after all the time she'd lived there, she rarely slept in their bed when he was away. Instead, she curled into the relaxation chair and dozed.
    The nightmares came less often now, but crept back at odd moments.
    She could work here when it was convenient, lock the doors if she wanted privacy. And as it had a fully operational kitchen, she often chose her AutoChef over Summerset when she was alone in the house.
    With the sun streaming through the view wall at her back, she reviewed her caseload, juggled legwork. She knew she didn't have the luxury of focusing exclusively on the Fitzhugh case, particularly since it was earmarked a probable suicide. If she didn't turn up hard evidence in the next day or two, she'd have no choice but to lower its priority.
    At eight sharp there was a brisk knock on the door.
    "Come on in, Peabody."
    "I'll never get used to this place," Peabody said as she walked inside. "It's like something out of an old video."
    "You should get Summerset to take you on a tour," Eve said absently. "I'm pretty sure there are rooms I've never seen. There's coffee." Eve gestured toward the kitchen alcove and continued to frown at her logbook.
    Peabody wandered off, scanning the entertainment units lining the wall, wondering what it would be like to be able to afford any amusement available: music, art, video, holograms, VR, meditation chambers, games. Play a set of tennis with the latest Wimbeldon champ, dance with a hologram of Fred Astaire, or take a virtual trip to the pleasure palaces on Regis III.
    Daydreaming a bit, she turned into the kitchen. The AutoChef was already programmed for coffee, so she ordered two, carried the steaming mugs back into the office. She waited patiently while Eve continued to mutter.
    Peabody sipped her coffee. "God. Oh God. It's real." Blinking in shock, she cupped both hands reverently around the mug. "This coffee is real."
    "Yeah, you get spoiled. I can hardly stomach the slop down at Cop Central anymore." Eve glanced up, caught Peabody's dazed expression, and grinned. It hadn't been so long before that she'd had a similar reaction to Roarke's coffee. And to Roarke. "Pretty great, huh?"
    "I've never had real coffee before." As if sipping liquid gold -- and with the depletion of the rain forests and plantations it was equally dear -- Peabody drank slowly. "It's amazing."
    "You've got a half hour to OD on it while we work out the day's strategy."
    "I can have more?" Peabody closed her eyes and just inhaled the scent. "You're a god, Dallas."
    With a snort, Eve reached for her beeping 'link. "Dallas," she began, then her face lit with a grin. "Feeney."
    "How's married life, kid?"
    "It's tolerable. Pretty early in the day for you electronic detectives, isn't it?"
    "Got a hot one working. A scramble at the chief's office. Some joker hacked into his mainframe and nearly fried the whole system."
    "They got in?" Her eyes widened in surprise. She wasn't sure even Feeney, with his magic touch, could break the security on the Chief of Police and Security's