In Death 23 - Born in Death

body?” She gave a snort. “Do I look like I’ve recently lost my mind?”
    She kept going, and glanced back at Roarke. “I’m not taking any witch’s brew he concocts, so forget it.”
    “I said nothing.”
    “You were thinking it. I’m getting coffee, and tagging Peabody. If Mavis is down for the count tonight, I can go over there myself, relieve her and McNab. I have to update Baxter. He’ll want in on the interviews tomorrow.”
    “Eve, Christ Jesus, you need sleep.”
    “I thought you were saying nothing.”
    “Bloody goddamn shagging hell.”
    It was as far as he got when her ’link signaled. “I guess you’d better hold that Irish thought. Dallas.”
    “Check it out,” Peabody sang, and turned her ’link so Eve saw the dark mouth of a safe.
    “Hot diggity damn!”
    “It’s the second we found. Nearly gave up, but my guy here is stubborn.” A very tired-eyed Peabody made kissy noises.
    “Cut that out.”
    “Aw, he earned it. First safe was in the library. False front, nothing any burglar with a working brain couldn’t have found and popped. Cleaned out. We were very sad, figuring whoever killed Sloan got to it first.”
    “I bet that’s just what he did, too. Figures he cleaned up anything incriminating Sloan had tucked away.”
    “But McNab said, ‘Screw that, She-Body’—speaking to me. How you said the vic has some brains, so why wouldn’t he have another hole,and a deeper one. If not here, somewhere else, but we’re here, so we’ll keep right on looking and looking and—”
    “You’re babbling.”
    “Sorry. My brain went to sleep an hour ago. The rest of me hasn’t figured it out yet. Anyway, we found this one in the kitchen. It’s built into the pantry—where, I might add, the guy had prime consumable goodies. We didn’t eat anything. It was hard and painful, but we resisted. And in this nice little safe—which took my Scottish stud thirty-five minutes to crack—we found cash. Two hundred and fifty large—some jewelry. And…a shitpot load of discs. They’re labeled, Dallas, and some of that shitpot is Bullock Foundation records.”
    “Motherload. Bag it all, log it all, bring it all.”
    Eve turned to Roarke with a toothy grin. “Got the bastards.” The grin faded when she saw the tall glass of murky green liquid in his hand. “Where’d you get that?”
    “From the faeries.”
    “I don’t want faerie juice.” She planted her feet, lifted her fists into a boxer’s stance. “And if you try to pour that into me, you’re going to bleed.”
    “Oh, dear, I’m terrified. Threatened with bodily harm by a woman who can barely stand upright. Half for me,” he said as she snarled. “Half for you.”
    “Damn it.” She couldn’t punch him if he was going to be reasonable. “You first.”
    With his eyes on hers he lifted the glass, drank half of the contents. Then cocked his head, held the glass out.
    “Disgusting, isn’t it?”
    “Absolutely,” he agreed. “Your turn.”
    She made a face he thought a recalcitrant twelve-year-old would have been proud of, but she snatched the glass, squeezed her eyes shut, and gulped the rest down. “There. Happy now?”
    “I’ll be happier when we’re dancing naked under the tropical sun, but this will do.”
    “Okay.” She rubbed her gritty eyes. “Let’s start tying this up.”

19
    WHEN SHE CONTACTED BAXTER, HE WAS NEARLY at her gates. “Figured I could give you what I got, you give me yours. In person. I got Trueheart with me. Ought to be something the kid can do.”
    There was always something, Eve thought, and began to cobble together her notes. Trueheart could play drone and write her report. Despite the months working with Baxter, Trueheart was still fresh as daisies in May and eager as a puppy gamboling through them. He wouldn’t squawk about drone work.
    “More cops,” Roarke said. “More coffee, then.”
    “Dancing naked, tropical sun, near future.”
    “I don’t suppose we could take fifteen minutes in the holo-room to practice.” He set coffee at her elbow.
    “We’ve been practicing every chance we get the last couple years. I think we’re ready to go pro. Where’s the money they’re washing coming from?”
    “I thought you were going to let the Feds and Global worry about that?”
    “Yeah, but it bugs me.” She rose to walk to the board, to study the photos of Bullock and Chase. In her mind she saw the way they’d stood together, the way they’d touched each other.