In Death 26 - Strangers in Death

Roarke fund.”
    “You have a fund for Roarke? To donate to him, or to try to buy him?”
    “I wish—on the buying part. It’d be a skim for McNab. We have a deal where we both got to pick one person, and if we ever got the chance to…” She closed her fist, pumped it while she wiggled her eyebrows. “With said person, the other of us would understand. A one-shot deal. I picked Roarke.”
    “Well, he’s a superior lay, so you’d have that before I peeled the skin off your still quivering body, roasted it on an open fire, then force-fed it to you.”
    “Okay then. So…” Clearing her throat, Peabody turned the cube on record. “I owe Dallas, Lieutenant Meaniepants Eve, twenty dollars to be paid out of my hard-earned, under-appreciated detective’s salary next payday. Peabody, Detective Churchmouse Delia.”
    She tossed the memo cube. Eve caught it one-handed, slid it into her pocket. “What’s the Roarke fund?”
    “Oh, I’m earmarking a little every payday and socking it away. When I get a decent amount I’m going to have him invest it for me. He said he would. It’s not a superior lay, but hey, could be a nice bang.”
    “Never known him to misfire. Start on the interviews on old man Anders. Plowder and Bride-West are on there. Don’t hit them. Start with out-of-towners. Start with the ones Ava isn’t tight with. The girl toy, any of the staff who were there, particularly any temps or staff who’ve been fired or have resigned. Low-key it, just following up on additional information that’s come to light. Just reconfirming, blah blah. I’m heading into the field shortly, then I’m working from home.”
    “You’re going solo?”
    “Actually, I’m going to call in a superior lay, who also looks like a superior lay. He could be handy in my next interview.”
    “Okay, but if you get laid in the field, I expect to read the details thereof in your report. All the details.”
    “Keep that up and you’ll usurp Jenkinson’s Sick Bastard title.”
    “That’s a personal goal of mine. Dallas, are we getting anywhere? I mean, we know what we know. But are we getting anywhere toward bringing her down for it?”
    “She won’t think so. And that’s why we’re getting somewhere. Get started on the interviews, full reports on all of them.”
    “How many houseguests?”
    “Sixteen houseguests, eight staff.”
    “Twenty-four interviews? It’ll take hours.”
    “Then I’d get started. Out.”
    Eve picked up her ’link, and considered it a good omen when Roarke answered personally. “Lieutenant. What can I do for you?”
    “I was wondering how you’d feel about meeting me at a sex club.”
    “How odd. I was just thinking what we might do this evening, and that was top of my list.”
    “Bang She Bang, downtown on Spring. Does an hour from now work for you?”
    “I can make it work considering the incentive.”
    A stray thought brought on a scowl. “You don’t own it, do you?”
    He cocked a brow. “I don’t believe I own any establishment with that name. I could probably pick it up within the hour if that would help.”
    She’d bet more than Peabody’s twenty he could do just that. “No, thanks. I’ll just use the Power of Roarke to my advantage on this one.”
    “I thought it was the Fear of Roarke.”
    “Depends on the situation. I’m thinking power will squeeze more juice out of this one than fear.”
    “Either are at your disposal. In an hour, Lieutenant.”
    After he clicked off she made a few calls, scribbled a few notes, imagined sitting on her hands to keep herself from nagging Feeney.
    Peabody hailed her as Eve started out. “I talked to the girl toy—Angel Scarlett. She got all choked up when I mentioned the old man. I don’t think she’s going to be winning any awards as an actress. Her rundown was consistent with her earlier statement, but not so exact it felt practiced.”
    Peabody did a left-to-right swivel in her chair. “She and the old man had taken a nap—which she made sure I knew was a euphemism for boinking, then she went down to take a swim. She was in the pool with some of the other guests—and that’s consistent with their original statements—when the old man went down in the shower.”
    Peabody glanced down at her notes. “Cocktails and canapes were being served out there. I asked casually about her hostess, and she was offhand about that. Ava was flitting around somewhere, like always. You were off on the martini. It was a gin and tonic,