In Death 21 - Origin in Death

checked her wrist unit. "Where the hell's my warrant?"
    She dropped down on the sofa, studied Roarke thoughtfully. "How'd you feel back then, when Summerset took you in off the streets?"
    "I got fed, got to sleep in a bed. And nobody was beating the bloody hell out of me on a daily basis." The man who'd seen to that, Roarke thought, had given him a great deal more than clean sheets and food for his belly. "I was half dead anyway when he took me in. By the time I was able to think clearly, get out of bed, I was over my shock at my luck. Considered that he might be a mark, which he disabused me of the first time I tried to pick his pocket. And I learned to be grateful, for the first time in my life."
    "So when he told you what to do, when he educated you, housed you, set rules, you went along."
    "He didn't put shackles on me. I'd've slipped the locks and run. But yes."
    "Yeah." She leaned her head back, stared at the ceiling. "And then he becomes family. Father, mother, teacher, doctor, priest. The ball of it."
    "In essence. Ah, speaking of family. Several members of mine will be coming over from Clare. Now that I've done the thing, I don't know quite what to expect."
    She looked back at him. "Well, that makes a pair of us."
     
    TICK-TOCK, EVE THOUGHT, AND SCOWLED AT THE
    'link she'd set on the dining room table. There was a cheery fire in the hearth and some sort of fancy pig meat on her plate.
    "Don't you know a watched 'link never beeps." She shifted her gaze to Roarke as he stabbed some meat from her plate onto his fork and held it out to her. "Be a good girl and eat your dinner."
    "I know how to feed myself." But because it was there, she took the offering. Damn good pig. "He'll have wiped documents by now."
    "Anything you can do about that?"
    "No."
    "Then you might as well enjoy your dinner."
    There were some sort of fancy potatoes to go with the fancy pig. She gave them a try. "They've got to have money hidden somewhere. You interested in finding it?"
    Roarke sipped his wine, cocked his head. "Lieutenant, I'm always interested in finding money."
    "Whether or not this warrant comes through, I'm going to want the money trail. Funding for whatever this project is, fees or profit generated from it."
    "All right. Plans are to have the meal in here."
    She frowned at him. "We are having the meal in here." She stabbed some pork, held it up. "See?"
    "Thanksgiving, Eve." And he could admit he was a bit wound up about it as he was so completely unsure of his steps.
    He knew how to handle people, parties, meetings, his very complicated wife. He knew how to run an interplanetary empire, and still carve out time to dabble in murder cases. But how the hell was he going to handle family?
    "Oh, right. Turkey, sure." Eve looked vaguely around the room with its huge table, stunning art, glints of silver, and warm, glowing wood. "Well, this would be the place for it. So this assignment? It would be official. No slippery stuff."
    "Well, you take the fun out of it, don't you?"
    "I can get authorization for a full-level financial search. Icove's murder, the several working theories. Blackmail, whacked-out former patient, the possibility it was a professional and/or terrorist hit."
    "None of which you subscribe to."
    "I don't eliminate them," Eve said. "But they're bottom of my list. I've also got the secured and encoded discs to add weight to the authorization. I can argue that whatever this project was, it led to the murder. Push all that together, and I can get authorization without offending any sensibilities. Not saying Icove was dirty, but that something to do with his work-and income from same-led to his murder."
    "Clever of you."
    "I'm a clever gal. Until I have more, I don't make noises about possible human hybridization or sex slavery or companion training. Get me the money, so I can."
    "Good as done, then."
    He tried to relax into his dinner and not worry about the logistics of this event he'd started. The transportation was no problem. He'd already seen to that. And housing them, well, the place was big enough to tuck them in even if the whole lot of them hopped the shuttle.
    But what the hell was he going to do with them once they got here? : wasn't like entertaining business associates or even friends. He had relations, for God's sake. How was he supposed to get used to having them, dealing with them, when he'd lived nearly the whole of his life without them?
    Now they were going to be under his roof, and he hadn't a