In Death 16 - Portrait in Death

stared at the small chunk of candy still in Eve's hand. "What's that? Is that chocolate? Real chocolate?"
     
     
"What?" Panicked, Eve shoved the hand behind her back. "I don't know what you're talking about. I'm working here."
     
     
"I can smell it." To prove it, Peabody sniffed the air like a wolf. "That's not chocolate substitute, that's not soy. That's real goods."
     
     
"Maybe. And it's mine."
     
     
"Just let me have a little-" Peabody's gasp was shocked and heartfelt as Eve stuffed the remaining chunk in her mouth. "Oh, Dallas." She swallowed hard. "That was very childish."
     
     
"Uh-uh. And delicious," Eve added with her mouth full. "What've you got?"
     
     
"I don't have chocolate breath, that's for damn sure." At Eve's arch look, she pokered up. "While others, who will remain nameless, were stuffing their face with candy, I diligently pursued an angle in the investigation that I believe might be of some interest to the incredibly selfish candy-hog primary."
     
     
"It was dark chocolate."
     
     
"You're a mean person and will probably go to hell."
     
     
"I can live with that. What angle did you diligently pursue, Officer Peabody?"
     
     
"It occurred to me that one or more of the individuals attached to businesses around the college might have a sheet. It seemed prudent to do a run on said individuals to determine any and all criminal records."
     
     
"Not bad." And exactly what Eve had in mind to do next. "You can sniff the wrapper," she offered, and held it out.
     
     
Peabody grimaced, but she took it.
     
     
"And the results?"
     
     
"There's good news and bad news. Bad news is the city's full of criminals."
     
     
"My God. How could this be?"
     
     
"Which leads to the good news that our jobs are secure. Most of what I got was petty stuff, but I did get a couple of nice pops. An assault with illegals possession, and a multiple stalking."
     
     
"What's your pick?"
     
     
"Oh, well." Suddenly nervous, Peabody puffed out her cheeks. "We'd have to check out both, because... the assault doesn't ring so much since the kill was careful, and he didn't rough her up any. But the illegals does, because of the tranq used. But the stalking's more in line with the MO, so I guess I'd start with the stalker."
     
     
"You're coming right along, Peabody. Got the name and address?"
     
     
"Yes, sir. Dirk Hastings, Portography, on West 115th." "Dirk's a really stupid name. Let's take a ride."
     
     
***
     
     
With Dr. Louise Dimatto as his guide, Roarke took a tour of the newly completed common rooms of the abuse shelter. He approved the soothing colors, the simple furniture, and the privacy shields on the windows.
     
     
He'd wanted to establish this... sanctuary, he supposed, as a kind of symbol of what both he and Eve had ultimately escaped. And to provide a safe haven for the victims.
     
     
He wouldn't have taken advantage of such a place, he thought. No matter how hungry, bruised, battered, he wouldn't have bolted to a shelter.
     
     
Too proud, he supposed. Or too bloody mean.
     
     
He might have hated his father, but he hadn't trusted the social workers, the cops, the do-gooders, and had figured better the devil you know. There'd been no system for him, as there had been for Eve once she was found broken and bloody in that alley in Dallas.
     
     
She'd learned to work her way through the system, while he'd spent most of his life working around it. And somehow he'd become part of it and a do-gooder himself.
     
     
It was baffling.
     
     
He stood at the wide doorway leading to the recreation area. There were children playing a bit too quietly, but playing. Women with babies on their hips, and bruises on their faces. He caught the looks aimed his way-panic, suspicion, dislike, and outright fear.
     
     
Men were a rarity within these walls, and were usually the reason others huddled inside them.
     
     
"I'll only interrupt for a minute." Louise spoke in an easy tone as she looked around the room. "This is Roarke. There'd be no Dochas without him. We're pleased he could make the time today to visit, and see the results of his vision and generosity."
     
     
"As much your vision, Louise, if not more. It's a nice room, feels like a home." He, too, looked around, at the faces. He felt the weight of their waiting, and their discomfort.
     
     
"I hope you're finding what you need here," he said, and started to step out again.
     
     
"How come it's got such a funny