Remember When

about the same as every other police-issue on the streets. Good news is I'm a fricking genius and got her up and running with some spare parts I keep around. She'll hold until you get lucky and wreck it or some asshole who doesn't know better boosts it."
    "Thanks. Backseat," she ordered. "Behind the driver. I'm afraid if I keep catching sight of you in the rearview I'll go blind." She turned to Roarke. "Later."
    "I'll look forward to it. Hey." He caught her chin in his hand before she could walk away, then, ignoring her wince, brushed his lips lightly over hers. "Be careful with my cop."
    Peabody sighed as she slid into the car. "I just love the way he says that. 'My cop.'" She scooted around to face McNab. "You never call me that."
    "It doesn't work when you're a cop, too."
    "Yeah, and you don't have the accent anyway. But you're cute." She pursed her lips at him.
    "And you're my absolutely female She-body."
    "Stop it, stop it, stop it! The neurons in my head are popping." Eve slapped her safety harness in place. "There will be no gooey talk in this vehicle. There will be no gooey talk within ten yards of my person. This is my official ban on gooey talk, and violators will be beaten unconscious with a lead pipe."
    "You don't have a lead pipe," Peabody pointed out.
    "I'll get one." She slid her eyes over as she drove toward the gates. "Why do you wear something that's wrinkled all to shit?"
    "It's the natural state of the natural fabric. My sister wove this material."
    "Well, why didn't she smooth it out or something while she was at it? And I can't believe how much time I waste these days discussing your wardrobe."
    "Yeah. It's kind of frosty." Her smile turned to a frown as she looked down at her legs. "Do you think these pants make my calves look fat?"
    "I can't hear you because something just burst in my brain and my ears are filled with blood."
    "In that case, McNab and I will return to our rudely interrupted gooey talk." She yipped when Eve snaked out a hand and twisted her earlobe. "Jeez. Just checking."
    ***
    Eve considered it a testament to her astounding self-control that she didn't kill either one of them on the way to Central. To keep her record clean, she strode away from them in the garage, nabbing the elevator alone. She had no doubt they'd have to exchange sloppy words or kisses before each separated to check in with their squad.
    And judging by the sleepy, satisfied look in Peabody's eye when she strolled in, Eve assumed there'd been some groping added to the lip locks.
    It didn't bear thinking about.
    "Briefing in fifteen," Eve said briskly. "I have some new data and need to skim over it. I want to bring Feeney in, if he can manage it. To pursue one angle, we're going to need a person search that goes back over fifty years."
    Peabody sobered. "The diamonds. We're looking for one of the thieves? Aren't they all dead?"
    "Records would indicate. We're looking for the ex-wife and son of Alex Crew. They went into the wind shortly after the divorce and weren't mentioned in Gannon's book. I want to know why."
    "Do you want me to contact Feeney?"
    "I'll do that. You contact Gannon, schedule a meeting with her."
    "Yes, sir."
    After loading the disk Roarke had given her and getting coffee, Eve called Feeney's office in EDD.
    His familiar, droopy face came on screen. "Seventy-two," he said before she could speak, "and I'm outta here."
    She'd forgotten he had vacation coming up and juggled the time factor in with her other internal data. "Got time for a person search before you clock out with your sunscreen and party hat?"
    "Didn't say I wasn't on the job until. Besides, you need a person search, I can put one of my boys on it." All his department were boys to Feeney, regardless of chromosomes.
    "I'm looking for brilliance on this one, so I'm asking you to see to it personally."
    "How much butter you got to slather on me to grease me up for it? I've got a lot of i's to dot before I take off."
    "It involves multiple homicides, a shitload of diamonds and a vanishing act going back over half a century. But if you're too busy packing your hula skirt, I can order up a couple of drones."
    "Hula skirt's the wife's." He drew air in and out his nose. "Fifty years?"
    "Plus a few. I've got a briefing down here in about ten."
    "The one you hooked McNab for?"
    "That's the one."
    He pulled on his lips, scratched his chin. "I'll be there."
    "Thanks." She cut off, then opened Roarke's file to familiarize herself with the data.