In Death 08 - Conspiracy in Death

I want you to take a look at the data I've accessed, then translate it for me in terms someone who didn't graduate from Harvard Medical can understand."
    Louise's brows winged up. "You checked up on me."
    "Did you think I wouldn't?"
    "No." Once again, Louise's face relaxed into a smile. "I was certain you would. It's nice to be right."
    "Then let's get started." Eve called up the data, gestured to the chair behind the monitor, then looked over as Peabody came huffing through the door. "You're late."
    "Subway -- " Peabody held up a hand as she struggled to catch her breath. "Running behind. Weather sucks. Sorry." She took off her snow-covered coat. "Coffee. Please. Sir."
    Eve merely jerked a thumb in the direction of the AutoChef, then answered the beep of her 'link. "Dallas."
    "Don't you ever check your messages?" Nadine demanded. "I've been trying to reach you since last night."
    "I was out, now I'm in. What?"
    "I'm officially requesting a one-on-one regarding the murders of Samuel Petrinsky and Erin Spindler. My information has you as primary on the first and replacement primary on the second."
    It was a game they both knew. Tele-link logs could be checked. "The department has not yet issued a statement on either of those cases. Both are ongoing investigations."
    "Which, according to my research and sources, appear to be linked. You can say nothing and I'll go on air with what I've got, or you can do some damage control by agreeing to an interview before I break the story. Up to you, Dallas."
    She could have wiggled more, often would have. But she thought that was enough for the record. "I'm working at home today."
    "Fine, I'll be there in twenty minutes."
    "No, no cameras in my house." On that she was firm. "I'll meet you in my office at Central in an hour."
    "Make it half that. I have a deadline."
    "An hour, Nadine. Take it or leave it." And with that, she cut transmission. "Peabody, you work with Dr. Dimatto. I'll be back as soon as I can."
    "Traffic's ugly, Lieutenant," Peabody told her, pitifully grateful she wasn't being dragged out in it again. "The road crews haven't started clearing yet."
    "Just one more adventure," Eve muttered and strode out.
    She thought she'd get out clean, but the foyer monitor blinked on as she reached for her jacket. "Going somewhere, Lieutenant?"
    "Jesus, Roarke, why not just knock me over the head with a blunt instrument. Keeping tabs on me?"
    "As often as possible. Wear your coat if you're going out. That jacket isn't warm enough for this weather."
    "I'm just going into Central for a couple of hours."
    "Wear the coat," he repeated, "and the gloves in the pocket. I'm sending one of the four-wheels around."
    She opened her mouth, but he'd already vanished. "Nag, nag, nag," she muttered, then nearly jolted when he swam back on-screen.
    "I love you, too," he said easily, and she heard his chuckle as the image faded again.
    Eyes narrowed, she fingered the jacket, considered taking a stand. But she remembered just how warm and soft the coat was. It wasn't like she was going to a murder scene, so it seemed petty not to give in, just this once. She wrapped cashmere over her ancient trousers and stepped outside into the blowing snow just as a gleaming silver vehicle rolled smoothly to the base of the steps.
    It was, she thought, a honey of a ride. Powerful and sturdy as a jet-tank. She climbed up and in, amused and touched to find the heat already blowing. Roarke never missed a trick. To entertain herself, she programmed it for manual, gripped the gearshift, and shot down the drive.
    It rolled over several inches of snow as if she were driving on freshly scrubbed asphalt.
    Traffic was snarled and nasty. More than one vehicle was tipped sideways on the street and abandoned. She counted three fender benders in the first four blocks. She steered around them easily, automatically calling the locations of the wrecks in to Dispatch on her communicator.
    Even the glide-cart vendors, who would brave almost any weather to make a buck, were taking the day off. Street corners were deserted, the sky overhead too curtained with snow for her to see or hear any air traffic.
    It was, she thought, like driving through one of those old glass globes where nothing moved but the snow when it was shaken free.
    Clean, she thought. It wouldn't last, but just now, the city was clean, pristine, surreal. And quiet enough to make her shudder.
    She felt something very close to relief after she'd parked in the garage