In Death 07 - Holiday in Death

out and flicked at the strings of McNab's snazzy red tie. "Right now."
    "Oh, I'd have already taken care of that myself," Eve said dryly. "You look like you could use a drink, Detective."
    "Yes, sir. I could."
    "Roarke, why don't you take care of him? Mira just came in. I want to talk to her."
    "Delighted." Roarke draped an arm around McNab's shoulder and squeezed just a little harder than comfort allowed.
    It took longer than Eve liked to make her way across the room. It amazed her how much people wanted to talk at parties. And about nothing in particular. That was delay enough, but she caught sight of Peabody, looking very un-Peabody-like in sweeping evening pants of dull gold and a trim sleeveless jacket. Her bare arm was tucked comfortably through Charles Monroe's.
    Mira, Eve decided, could wait. "Peabody."
    "Dallas. Wow, the place looks amazing."
    "Yeah." Eve shifted her gaze and pinned Charles with angry eyes. "Monroe."
    "Fabulous home you've got. Lieutenant."
    "I don't recall your name on the guest list."
    Peabody colored, stiffened. "The invitation said I was free to bring a date."
    "Is that what this is?" she asked, keeping her eyes on Charles's. "A date?"
    "Yes." He lowered his voice as a flicker of hurt clouded his eyes. "Delia is aware of my profession."
    "Are you giving her the cop's standard discount?"
    "Dallas." Horrified, Peabody stepped forward.
    "It's all right." Charles tugged her back. "I'm on my own time, Dallas, and hoping to spend a pleasant evening with an attractive woman whose company I enjoy. If you'd rather I leave, it's your house, your call."
    "She's a big girl."
    "Yes, she is," Peabody murmured. "Just a second, Charles," she added, then gripped Eve's arm and tugged her aside.
    "Hey!"
    "No, you hey." Fury bubbled into her voice as Peabody boxed Eve into a corner. "I don't have to clear my personal time or relationships with you, and you have no right to embarrass me."
    "Wait a minute -- "
    "I'm not done." Later, Peabody would recall the look of speechless shock on Eve's face, but at the moment she was too revved to notice or react to it. "What I do off duty has nothing to do with the job. If I want to take on table dancing in my personal time, it's my business. If I want to pay six LCs to fuck me blind on Sundays, it's my business. And if I want to have a civilized date with an interesting, attractive man who for some reason wants to have one with me, it's my business."
    "I was only -- "
    "I'm not done," Peabody said between clenched teeth. "On the job, you're in charge. But that's where it ends. If you don't want me here with Charles, then we'll leave."
    As Peabody turned on her heel, Eve snagged her wrist. "I don't want you to leave." Her voice was quiet, controlled, and stiff as a petrified board. "I apologize for stepping into your personal life. I hope it doesn't spoil your evening. Excuse me."
    Hurt, unbelievably hurt, she walked away. Her stomach was still jittering with it when she found Mira. "I don't want to take you away from the party, but I'd like a few minutes. In private."
    "Of course." Concerned by the dark eyes and pale cheeks, Mira reached out. "What is it, Eve?"
    "In private," she repeated, and ordered herself to bury her feelings as she led the way out. "We can talk in the library."
    "Oh." The minute she stepped inside, Mira clasped her hands in sheer pleasure. "What a marvelous room. Oh, what absolute treasures. Not enough people appreciate the feel and the smell of a real book in their hands any longer. The delight of curling into a chair with the warmth of one instead of the cool efficiency of a disc."
    "Roarke's into books," Eve said simply and shut the door. "The testing on Rudy. I question some of your findings."
    "Yes, I thought you might." Mira wandered through, admiring, then settled onto a soft leather chair, smoothing the skirt of her rose-pink cocktail suit. "He's not your killer, Eve, nor is he the monster you want him to be."
    "It has nothing to do with what I want."
    "His relationship with his sister disturbs you on a deep and personal level. She isn't like you, though; she isn't a child, she isn't defenseless, and while I do believe he has an unhealthy measure of control over her, she isn't being forced."
    "He uses her."
    "Yes, and she him. It's mutual. I agree that he is obsessive when it pertains to her. He is sexually immature. The very thing that eliminates him from your lists, Eve, is the fact that I strongly believe he is impotent with anyone but