In Death 11 - Judgment in Death

sweet." Mavis's eyes, seriously blurred, went moist with sentiment. "If you'd tell him, you guys would get along better."
    It took Eve a minute. "Not Summerset. Jeez. Roarke. I love that stupid son of a bitch. You'd think he could cut me a break when this case is hammering at me, and I don't know what I'm doing."
    "You always know what you're doing. That's why you're Dallas, Lieutenant Eve."
    "Not with the job, Mavis. I know what I'm doing with the job. With Roarke, with the marriage deal, with this love crap. You must be drunk."
    "Of course I'm drunk. We each drank an entire batch of Leonardo's -- isn't he the cutest thing -- special screamer mix."
    "You're right." Eve set her empty bowl aside, pressed a hand to her stomach. "I have to go throw up now."
    "Okay. I'm next, so let me know when you're done."
    As Eve stumbled to her feet, staggered out of the room, Mavis simply curled up, tucked one of the satin throws under her head, and went blissfully to sleep.
    Eve washed her face, studied her pale, sloppy-eyed reflection in the mirror. She looked soft, she thought. Soft, a little stupid, and more than drunk. With some regret, she raided Mavis's supply of Sober-Up. After brief consideration, she decided to take only one. She wasn't quite ready to give up the buzz a full dose would dull.
    When she found Mavis asleep on the floor, like a doll among a forest of colorful toys, she grinned. "What would I do without you?"
    She leaned down, gave Mavis's shoulder a little shake. When she got a sexy little purr as a response, she decided to forgo her plan to help Mavis to bed. Instead, she plucked one of the many fabric throws off the sofa, tucked it around her sleeping friend.
    And straightening again, had her head spin.
    "Yep, still half drunk. Good enough."
    She left the apartment, rolling her shoulders like a boxer prepping for a bout. She would deal with Roarke all right, she thought. She was more than ready for it.
    The fresh air hit her, knocked her back. She stood a moment, breathing slowly, then walked, in mostly a straight line, to her car. She had wit enough to program it to auto and let it take her home.
    She was going to straighten this out, she told herself. Yes, she was. And if she had to get Roarke into bed to do it, well... the sacrifices she had to make.
    That made her snort with laughter and settle back to enjoy the ride.
    New York looked so cheerful, she decided. The glidecarts were doing brisk business, as the pedestrian traffic was thick. The street thieves, she thought with mild affection, were having a field day plucking the tourists and the unwary.
    Greasy smoke stinking of overcooked soy dogs and rehydrated onion bits plumed in front of her car. Two street LCs were in a shoving match on the corner of Sixth and Sixty-second while a hopeful John cheered them on. One Rapid Cab tried a sneak maneuver around another, missed, and scraped fenders. The two drivers were out of the cars like jacks from the box, squaring off with fists.
    God. She loved New York.
    She watched a flock of the head-shaven Pure Sect, well out of their bailiwick, herd each other uptown. An ad blimp, past curfew, glided overhead and touted the delights of a package trip to Vegas II. Four days, three nights, round-trip and deluxe accommodations for two, all for the low-low-low price of twelve thousand and eighty-five.
    What a deal.
    The blimp chugged its way downtown as she continued up.
    The pedestrian traffic thinned out and trimmed up. The glide-carts took on a sheen.
    Welcome to Roarke's world, she thought, amused at herself.
    As she approached the gates, a figure stepped into the path of her vehicle. Eve let out a yelp, and fortunately, the programming accessed the obstruction and hit the brakes. Mild annoyance turned to disgust when Webster stepped out of the shadows.
    She rolled down her window, glared at him. "You got a death wish? This is a city vehicle, and I was on auto."
    "Good thing, as you look a little impaired." Sleepy, he thought. Sleepy, smashed, and sexy. "Night on the town?"
    "Bite me, Webster. What do you want?"
    "I need to talk to you." He glanced at the gates. "It's not easy getting into this place. How about a lift?"
    "I don't want you in my house."
    The engaging smile he'd fixed on his face hardened. "Ten minutes, Dallas. I promise not to steal the silver."
    "I have an office at Central. Make an appointment."
    "If it wasn't important, do you think I'd be hanging out in front of your house waiting to give you a