In Death 06 - Vengeance in Death

dessert?"
    "Now that you mention it, how about -- "
    "Lieutenant." Peabody hurried into the room. "I've got the data on the last victim."
    "In the kitchen, Peabody, I'm fixing the detective his lunch."
    The killing look Peabody aimed at McNab was answered with a cheeky grin.
    "How much longer before Feeney gets back?" Peabody wanted to know.
    "One hundred and two hours and twenty-three minutes. But who's counting the time?" Eve programmed the AutoChef for McNab's choices. "What have you got?"
    "Victim departed Shannon airport yesterday on a four p.m. transport. Arrived Kennedy-Europa annex at one P.M. EST. She checked into the Palace at approximately two o'clock, into a prepaid suite. It was booked and paid through Roarke Industries."
    "Fuck it."
    "At four, the victim left the hotel. I haven't been able to track a cab company who picked her up. Got the name of the doorman who was on duty. He'll be back on in about an hour. The victim left the key to her room at the concierge station. She never picked it back up."
    "Have them block off her room -- no one goes in. Get a uniform to stand until we get over there."
    "Already done."
    Eve pulled McNab's lunch out. "Get yourself something to eat. It's going to be a long day."
    Peabody sniffed at the burger. "Maybe McNab has taste in something. I'll have one of them. Want anything?"
    "Later." Eve walked back into the office, dropped the plate on the desk. "Progress."
    "Got the zone nailed, it's searching for sector. We're closing in." He hefted the burger one-handed, bit in heartily. "God love us," he managed over a full mouth. "From a real cow or I'm a Frenchman. Better than mother's milk. Want a bite?"
    "I'll pass. McNab, aren't all those earrings heavy on the lobe? You keep adding them on, you're going to start walking on a slant."
    "Fashion demands a heavy price. Here she comes. Zone five, yeah, yeah, sector A-B." With a hand studded with rings, he shoved his plate off the chart he had spread over the desk. "That puts us" -- his limber fingers trailed over the chart, stopped -- "just about here. Here," he said, raising his gaze to Eve. "Right about where I'm sitting eating this really remarkable cow burger."
    "That's wrong."
    "I'll run it again, but it's telling me the transmission originated in this house, or on the grounds. This place takes up this entire sector."
    "Run it again," she ordered and turned away.
    "Yes, sir."
    "McNab, what's the error probability on that unit?"
    He fiddled with the red ribbon he wore as a tie. "Less than one percent."
    She pressed her lips together and turned back. "I want to know if you can bury this for a while. I don't want a report going into Central on this data until I can... until I pursue another avenue of the investigation. Are you able to comply with that?"
    Watching her, McNab sat back. "You're the primary, Dallas. I figure it's your call. This kind of data's tricky, gets lost really easily. Takes some time to uncover it again."
    "I appreciate it."
    "I appreciate the burger. I'll go back over the steps, see what pops. Feeney says you're the best, and he ought to know. You figure there's something off, maybe there is. And if there is, I'm good enough to find it."
    "I'll count on that. Peabody?"
    "Sir, just coming." Loaded with a plate, Peabody started out.
    "Bag that if you're hungry and saddle up. We're back on the clock."
    "Just give me a --" But since she was already talking to Eve's back, Peabody dropped the plate in front of McNab. "Enjoy."
    "I will. See you, She-Body." He wiggled his eyebrows when she turned and glared at him. And let out a little sigh when she stalked out. "Sure is built," he murmured, then pushed up his sleeves and got back to work.

CHAPTER TEN
    "Recorder on, Peabody."
    Eve signaled the uniform to step away from the door, then used the master code to access the locks. She entered a parlor, lush and spacious, with a bank of fresh flowers in brilliant whites and blues sweeping beneath a waist-high wall of windows.
    The spires and spears of New York rose beyond it, with the air traffic light and meandering. The blasting billboards that populated the West Side were banned here in the more exclusive Upper East.
    Typical of most things Roarke owned, the hotel suite was beautifully appointed -- thick cushions covered with jewel-toned silks and brocades, highly polished woods, carpet deep enough to wade in. An enormous basket of fruit and a bottle of sauvignon blanc, likely a welcome-to-the-Palace staple, sat on