"Eve considers it work. As it happens, we had an incident while we were there," Roarke put in. "A suicide. One of the autotronic techs. Mathias?"
William's brow furrowed. "Mathias… young, red hair, freckles?"
"Yes."
"Good God." He shuddered, drank deeply. "Suicide? Are you sure it wasn't an accident? My recollection is of an enthusiastic young man with big ideas. Not one who'd take his own life."
"That's what he did," Eve said shortly. "He hanged himself."
"How horrible." Pale now, Reeanna sat on the arm of a couch. "Did I know him, William?"
"I don't think so. You might have seen him at one of the clubs while we were there, but I don't remember him as much of a socializer."
"I'm terribly sorry, in any case," Reeanna said. "And how awful for you to deal with such a tragedy on your honeymoon. Let's not dwell on it." Galahad leaped onto the couch, skimmed his head under Reeanna's elegant hand. "I'd so much rather hear about the wedding we missed."
"Stay for dinner." Roarke gave Eve's arm an apologetic squeeze. "We'll bore you to tears with it."
"I wish we could." William offered Reeanna's shoulder the same smooth stroke as she gave the cat's head. "We're due at the theater. We're already late."
"You're right, as always." With obvious regret, Reeanna rose. "I hope you'll give us a rain check. We'll be on planet for the next month or two, and I'd so love the opportunity to get to know you, Eve. Roarke and I go back… a long way."
"You're welcome any time. And I'll see you both in the office tomorrow, for a full report."
"Bright and early." Reeanna set her glass aside. "Perhaps we can have lunch someday soon, Eve. Just females." Her eyes twinkled with such easy humor that Eve felt foolish. "We can compare notes on Roarke."
The invitation was too friendly to give offense. Eve found herself smiling. "That should be interesting." She walked them to the door with Roarke, waved them off. "Just how many notes," she said as she stepped back, "would there be to compare?"
"It was a long time ago." He snagged her by the waist for a delayed welcome-home kiss. "Years. Eons."
"She probably bought that body."
"I'd have to term it an excellent investment."
Eve lifted her chin to eye him sourly. "Is there any beautiful woman who hasn't bounced on your bed?"
Roarke cocked his head, narrowed his eyes in consideration. "No." He laughed when she took a swing at him. "You didn't mean that, or you'd have hit me." Then he grunted when her fist plowed into his gut. He rubbed it, grateful she'd pulled the punch. "I should have quit while I was ahead."
"Let that be a lesson to you, lover boy." But Eve let him sweep her off her feet and over his shoulder.
"Hungry?" he asked her.
"Starving."
"Me, too." He started up the stairs. "Let's eat in bed."
CHAPTER FOUR
Eve awoke with the cat stretched over her chest and the bedside 'link beeping. Dawn was just breaking. The light through the sky window was thin and gray from the storm rolling in with morning. With her eyes half closed, she reached out to answer.
"Block video," she ordered, clearing sleep from her voice. " Dallas."
"Dispatch, Dallas, Lieutenant Eve. Suspicious death, Five oh oh two Madison Avenue, Unit Thirty-eight hundred. See resident Foxx, Arthur. Code four."
"Dispatch, received. Contact Peabody, Officer Delia, to assist. My authorization."
"Confirmed. Transmission terminated."
"Code four?" Roarke had shifted the cat and was sitting up in bed, lazily stroking Galahad into feline ecstasy.
"It means I have time for a shower and coffee." Eve didn't spot a robe handy, so she walked toward the bathroom naked. "There's a uniform on the scene," she called out. She stepped into the shower unit, rubbing her gritty eyes. "Full power all jets, one hundred two degrees."
"You'll boil."
"I like to boil." She let out an enormous sigh of pleasure as pulsing jets of steamy water battered her from all sides. Tapping a glass block, she dispensed a palm full of dark green liquid soap. By the time she stepped out of the shower, she was awake.
Her brow lifted as she saw Roarke standing in the doorway, holding a cup of coffee. "For me?"
"Part of the service."
"Thanks." She took the cup into the drying tube, sipping while warm air swirled around her. "What were you doing, watching me shower?"
"I like to watch you. Something about long, lean women when they're wet and naked." He stepped into the shower himself and called for sixty-eight degrees.
It made Eve shiver. She couldn't understand why a man with all the luxuries in the world at his fingertips would actually choose cold showers. She opened the drying tube and combed her fingers through her unstyled cap of hair. She used some of the face glop that Mavis was always pushing at her, brushed her teeth.
"You don't have to get up because I am."
"I'm up," Roarke said simply and chose a heated towel rather than the drying tube. "Do you have time for breakfast?"
Eve watched his reflection in the mirror: gleaming hair, gleaming skin. "I'll catch something later."
He hooked the towel around his waist, shook back his dripping mane of hair, cocked his head. "Yeah?"
"I guess I like looking at you, too," she muttered and went into the bedroom to dress for death.
Street traffic was light. Airbuses rumbled overhead through the sizzling rain, carting night shift workers home, dragging day shifters to work. Billboards were quiet and the ubiquitous glida grills and carts with their offerings of food and drink were already setting up for the day. Smoke billowed through the vents in streets and sidewalks from the underground world of transportation and retail. The air steamed.
Eve headed across town, making good time.
The section of Madison where a body waited for her was pocked with exclusive boutiques and silvery spears of buildings fashioned to house those who could afford to shop there. The skywalks were glassed in to separate the clientele from the elements and from the noise that would begin to boom within an hour or two.
Eve passed a taxi with a lone passenger. The elegant blonde wore a glittery jacket, a sparkling rainbow of color in the dingy light. Licensed companion, Eve mused, heading home after an all-nighter. The wealthy could afford to buy fancy sex along with their fancy clothes.
Eve swung into an underground garage at the scene, flashed her badge for the security post. It scanned it, scanned her, then the light blinked from red to green and flashed the number of the empty space assigned to her.
It was, of course, at the far end of the facility from the elevator. Cops, she thought with resignation as she hoofed it, aren't given optimum spaces.
Eve recited the number of the unit into the speaker box and was whisked up.
There had been a time, not so long before, when she would have been impressed with the sumptuous foyer on the thirty-eighth floor, with its pool of scarlet hibiscus and bronze statuary. That was before she'd entered Roarke's world. She scanned the small, tinkling fountains flanking the entrance and realized that it was highly possible that her husband owned the building.
She spotted the uniform guarding the door of 3800, flipped up her badge.
"Lieutenant." The cop shifted subtly to attention, sucking in her stomach. "My partner's inside with the deceased's housemate. Mr. Foxx, on discovering his companion's body, called for an ambulance. We responded in addition, as per procedure. The ambulance is on hold, sir, until you clear the scene."
"Is it secured?"
"It is now." Her gaze flicked toward the door. "We weren't able to get much out of Foxx, sir. He's a bit hysterical. I can't be sure what he might have disturbed – other than the body."
"He moved the body?"
"No, sir. That is, it's still in the tub, but he attempted to, ah, revive the deceased. Had to be in shock to attempt it. There's enough blood in there to swim in. Slashed wrists," she explained. "From a visual confirmation, he'd been dead at least an hour before his housemate discovered the body."