In Death 10 - Witness in Death

risking my skin if I asked just what inspired you?"
    "Well..." She curved her back into the brush of his finger. "You bought me a candy bar."
    "Remind me to arrange for a truckload tomorrow."
    "A truckload would kill us." She pushed to her knees, shoved back her hair. She looked soft and used and content.
    "I'll risk it."
    With a laugh, she leaned over to rest her forehead to his. "One last mushy thing before it becomes a habit. You make me happy. I'm starting to get used to it."
    "That's a very nice way to end the mush."
    "I guess we should eat."
    "I'd hate to think of you slaving over a hot stove and not have the results appreciated."
    Her eyes slitted. "Is that a dig?"
    "No, indeed. What's for dinner?"
    "Lots of stuff with weird, fancy names."
    "Yum."
    "I figured if you didn't like it, it wouldn't be programmed." She scooted off the bed, stood naked, glancing around. "I don't guess there's a robe in here."
    "Afraid not." He dug through the tangle of sheets and pillows and came up with the now tattered body skimmer. "You could wear what's left of this."
    "Never mind." She picked up her discarded dress, shimmied into it.
    "Well now, that stirs the appetite considerably."
    "Even you couldn't go another round after that last one." When he grinned, she thought it wise to move out of reach.
    She couldn't pronounce half the food she put in her mouth, but it was damn tasty. "What is this called again?"
    "Fruit de le mer a la parisienne."
    "I guess if they called it a bunch of fish in a fancy sauce, it wouldn't have the same ring."
    "A rose by any other name." He refilled her water glass. "Lieutenant?"
    "Huh?"
    "You're trying not to think about your day. Why don't you just tell me about it instead?"
    She stabbed another scallop. "I've got a lead on -- " She cut herself off, sucked it in. "No, you tell me about your day."
    "My day?" he asked in surprise.
    "Yeah, what did you do today, how'd it go, that sort of thing."
    "You're in a mood," he murmured, then shrugged. "I dealt with some financial reorganization."
    "What does that mean?"
    "I bought some stock on its way down, sold some that I believe had topped off, studied the daily analysis of several companies and adjusted accordingly."
    "I guess that kept you busy."
    "Enough, until about noon when I went into the office." He wondered how long it would take until her eyes glazed over. "I had a holo-conference regarding the Olympus Resort. Cost overruns remain under the acceptable five percent. However, on a point-by-point project analysis, I find indications of a downturn in resource productivity that warrants closer study and a correction."
    Ninety seconds, he calculated, watching her eyes. He'd figured she'd drop off at sixty. "Then, I bought you a candy bar."
    "I liked that part."
    He broke off a chunk of his roll, buttered it. "Eve, did you marry me for my money?"
    "You bet your ass. And you'd better hold on to it, or I'm history."
    "It's very sweet of you to say so."
    That made her grin. "I guess we're finished talking about your day."
    "I thought we were. What's your lead?"
    "Love. At least that's where all the arrows are pointing right now." She filled him in while she polished off her meal.
    "Kenneth Stiles attacked Draco and beat him badly enough for medical intervention." Roarke cocked his head. "Interesting, isn't it, when you compare the two men. Draco was taller, considerably heftier, and certainly, on the surface, a great deal tougher. No indication that Stiles was injured?"
    "None. I thought about that, too. It comes down to the pussy and the pissed. Draco being the pussy, Stiles the pissed."
    "And being the pissed cost Stiles several million dollars."
    "And he didn't even end up with the girl."
    "Anja."
    "Peabody found a handful of Carvells in the city. Wrong age span, so we're widening the scan. My gut tells me she has some of the answers."
    "Cherchez la femme."
    "What?"
    "Find the woman," he translated.
    She lifted her glass in a quick toast. "You can count on it."
    "Anja." He said the name softly, a bare whisper of sound. And heard the gasp of surprise and recognition that followed it. "Don't say anything. Please. Just listen. I have to speak with you. It's important. Not over the 'link. Will you meet me?"
    "This is about Richard."
    "It's about everything."
    It took time. He was certain he was being watched and feared his own shadow. Stiles sat at the mirror in his dressing area and skillfully, painstakingly altered his appearance. He changed the color of