In Death 07 - Holiday in Death

passed it to him. It was sort of homey, she decided. The two of them sharing soup and bread after a long day.
    Just like, well, normal people.
    "So... Roarke Industries rose, what, eight points yesterday?"
    His brow winged up. "Eight and three-quarters. Have you developed an interest in the stock market, Lieutenant?"
    "Maybe I'm just keeping an eye on you. Your stock goes down, I might have to dump you."
    "I'll bring that point up at the next shareholders' meeting. Do you want some wine?"
    "Maybe. I'll get it."
    "Sit, eat. I haven't finished taking care of you yet." He rose and selected a bottle already open and chilling in the cold box cabinet.
    While he poured, she scraped the last of the soup from the bowl, barely resisting licking it clean. She felt warm, settled. Home. "Roarke, are we having a party?"
    "I imagine. When?"
    "I don't know when." A line formed between her eyebrows as she looked up at him. "If I knew when, why would I ask? Feeney said something about our Christmas party."
    "December twenty-third. Yes, we're having a party."
    "Why?"
    "Darling Eve." He bent down and kissed the top of her head before he sat again. "Because it's the holidays."
    "How come you didn't tell me?"
    "I believe I did."
    "I don't remember."
    "Do you have your date book handy?"
    Grumbling, she tugged it out of her pocket and plugged in the date. There, clear as crystal, was the information, followed by her initials to indicate she'd logged it in herself.
    "Oh."
    "The trees are being delivered tomorrow."
    "Trees?"
    "Yes. We'll have a formal one in the parlor, several in the ballroom upstairs. But I thought we'd have a smaller, more personal one in our bedroom. We'll decorate that one ourselves."
    Her brows shot high. "You want to decorate a tree?"
    "I do."
    "I don't know the first thing about it. I've never decorated a Christmas tree before."
    "Neither have I, or not in years. It'll be our first."
    The warmth that moved through her now had nothing to do with a hot meal or vintage wine. Her lips curved. "We'll probably make a mess of it."
    He took the hand she held out to him. "No doubt. Feeling better?"
    "A lot, yeah."
    "Do you want to tell me about tonight?"
    Her fingers tightened on his. "Yeah, I do." She released his hand and rose because she would think more clearly on the move.
    "He got another one," she began. "Same MO. Outside security cameras tagged him. The Santa suit, the big silver box with the fussy bow. He left her a pin, two birds in a circle."
    "Turtledoves."
    "Right -- or close enough. I don't know what a damn turtledove looks like. No sign of forced entry, no sign of struggle. I imagine the tox report will show she was tranq'd. She'd been restrained, probably gagged as the unit wasn't soundproofed. There were some fibers on her tongue and in her mouth, but he didn't leave whatever he gagged her with behind."
    "Sexually assaulted?"
    "Yes, same as the first. There was a fresh temp tattoo on her right breast. My True Love. And he'd wrapped her up in red garland, painted her face, brushed her hair. The bathroom was the cleanest place in the apartment. I'm guessing he scrubbed it down himself after he was done cleaning himself up. She'd only been dead an hour by the time I got there. The anonymous call came in from a pay slot a half a block from her house."
    He could see the frustration working back into her. Rising, he took her glass and his own. "Who was she?"
    "A stripper, lap dancer, worked at the Sweet Spot -- an upscale club on the West Side."
    "Yes, I know where it is." When she turned, eyes narrowed, he handed her the wine. "And yes, it happens to be one of my properties."
    "I really hate when that happens." When he only grinned at her, she blew out a breath. "Anyway, she had the afternoon shift, got off just before five. From what we can tell, she went straight home -- she ran a scan on her AutoChef at six, just about the time the outside camera picked up this bastard going into the building."
    Eve stared into her wine. "I'd say she missed dinner, too."
    "He's working quickly."
    "And having a jolly old time with it. Looks to me like he wants to make his quota by New Year's. I need to run her 'link, her finances, her personal records. I've got to check out the pin. I'm getting nowhere with the Santa suit or the garland. How the hell do I connect a sweet administrative assistant to a lap dancer?"
    "I know that tone." With that he turned and moved to his console. "Let's see what we can do."
    "I didn't say anything