In Death 16 - Portrait in Death

muttered. "Old men who hang out in the park and shake their fists at small children are grouchy. Summerset's all right. Well enough to give Roarke a shitload of grief about being in the hospital in the first place."
     
     
"Well, Roarke should be used to that."
     
     
Eve sucked air through her nose. "The next person, the very next person, who says that is going to know my wrath."
     
     
"I'm on a first-name basis with your wrath, sir. I guess this isn't the best time to tell you that McNab and I are thinking of cohabitating."
     
     
"Oh my God. My eye." Desperate, Eve pressed her fist to the twitch. "Not while I'm driving."
     
     
"We're going to start to look for a place because both of our apartments are too small." Peabody spoke in a rush, wanting to get it all out before her lieutenant imploded. "So I was wondering, after things calm down at your place, maybe you could ask Roarke if he has any units available downtown. Anything within, say, a ten-block radius of Central would be great."
     
     
"My ears are ringing. I can't hear you because there's this strange ringing in my ears."
     
     
"Dallas," Peabody said, pitifully.
     
     
"Don't look at me like that. I hate when you look at me like that. Like a damn cocker spaniel. I'll ask, I'll ask. Just don't, in the name of all that's holy, talk about it anymore."
     
     
"No, sir. Thank you, sir." Though she pressed her lips together, Peabody couldn't quite defeat the smug grin.
     
     
"Wipe that smile off your face." Eve wrenched the wheel and managed a full block before traffic slowed down again. "Maybe you'd be mildly interested in some pesky investigative work I've been toying with in my free time."
     
     
"Yes, sir. I'm all nonringing ears."
     
     
"Diego Feliciano. Works in a family-owned Mex eatery called Hola. Off Broadway at 125th. Between City College and Columbia. Lots of college trade. Diego's a bit of an entrepreneur and has, allegedly, picked up extra credit supplying some of the coeds, and their dedicated teachers, with Zoner and Push along with their burritos. Several arrests, but no convictions on that score."
     
     
"Does this mean tacos for lunch?"
     
     
"I like a good taco. Get Feeney on the 'link. I want to know what EDD's got on the transmission to Nadine."
     
     
"They'd eliminated thirty percent of the stations by twenty-two hundred last night, and were resuming the search and scan through Make The Scene at oh eight hundred this morning. They expect to have the unit tagged by midday."
     
     
"And how does my aide come by this information before I do?"
     
     
"Well, you know... pillow talk. See, sex-in this case-is an advantage to you. McNab said they'd get through faster, but at data clubs like that, the units are totally clogged. But he's on it and it's his top priority."
     
     
She cleared her throat when Eve made no comment. "Should I still contact Captain Feeney?"
     
     
"Oh, Feeney and I appear to be superfluous at this point. You and McPecker can fill us in whenever you feel it's appropriate."
     
     
"McPecker." Peabody snorted. "That's a good one. I'm going to use it on him."
     
     
"Happy to help." She shot Peabody a deceptively friendly look. "Perhaps I'm wasting my time going to the lab. Have you and Dickie also had a liaison?"
     
     
"Eeeuw."
     
     
"My faith in you is, at least, partially restored."
     
     
***
     
     
Dickie Berenski wore his white lab coat over a yellow shirt with blue polka dots. His thin, dark hair was slicked back over his egg-shaped head. His attention was focused on one of his many screens while he munched on what was left of a strawberry bagel.
     
     
He nodded when Eve came in. "Finally, she walks into my joint again. Can't stay away from me, can you, sunshine?"
     
     
"I had to get my inoculations first. Spill."
     
     
"Aren't you going to ask where I got this fine, tropical tan?"
     
     
"No. Rachel Howard, Dickie."
     
     
"I just got back two days ago from a fun-filled week at The Swingers' Palace, that elegant all-nude resort on Vegas II."
     
     
"You walked around without anything covering up that body, and no one died or went mad?"
     
     
"Hey, I'm built under my clothes. Any time you want to check it out-"
     
     
"Stop now, before things get ugly. Tell me about Rachel, Dickie."
     
     
"Work, work, work." Shaking his head, he scooted on his stool to another screen. "Morris gave you the lowdown on time of death, cause, and blah-de-blah-blah. Opes in the system, last