"I did my best," he murmured.
She snickered first, then chuckled, then broke into fits of giddy, hiccupping laughter. "Jesus, Roarke, Jesus Christ, look at us."
"In a minute. I think I'm still partially blind." But he was grinning as he shifted. She was still shaking with laughter. Her hair stuck up at odd angles, her eyes were glassy, and there were grass stains as well as bruises on her pretty ass. "You don't look much like a cop, Lieutenant."
She rolled to sit up as he had, angled her head. "You don't look much like a rich guy, Roarke." She tugged on his sleeve – it was all that was left of his shirt. "But it's an interesting look. How are you going to explain that to Summerset?"
"I'll simply tell him my wife is an animal."
She snorted. "He's already decided that for himself." Blowing out a breath, she looked toward the house. Lights glimmered on the lower level to welcome them home. "How are we going to get into the house?"
"Well…" He found what was left of her shirt, tied it around her breasts, and made her giggle helplessly. They managed to tug on ruined slacks, then sat looking at each other. "I can't carry you to the car," he told her. "I was hoping you'd carry me."
"We have to get up first."
"Okay."
Neither of them moved. The laughter started again, continued as they grabbed onto each other like drunks and staggered to their feet. "Leave the car," he decided.
"Uh-huh." They limped off, weaving. "Clothes? Shoes?"
"Leave them, too."
"Good plan."
Snickering like children breaking curfew, they stumbled up the steps, shushing each other as they fell through the door.
"Roarke!" Shocked tones, rushing feet.
"I knew it," Eve muttered dourly. "I just knew it."
Summerset rushed out of the shadows, his normally set face alive with shock and worry. He saw tattered clothes, bruised skin, wild eyes. "Was there an accident?"
Roarke straightened up, kept his arm around Eve's shoulders as much for balance as support. "No. It was on purpose. Go to bed, Summerset."
Eve glanced over her shoulder as she and Roarke helped each other up the stairs. Summerset stood at the base, gaping. The picture pleased her so much, she snickered all the way to the bedroom.
They fell into bed, exactly as they were, and slept like babies.
CHAPTER SEVEN
At shortly before eight the next morning, a bit sore and fuzzy-brained, Eve sat at her desk in her home office. She considered it more of a sanctuary than an office, really, the apartment Roarke had built for her in his home. Its design was similar to the apartment where she had lived when she'd met him, which she'd been reluctant to give up.
He'd provided it so that she could have her own space, her own things. Even after all the time she'd lived there, she rarely slept in their bed when he was away. Instead, she curled into the relaxation chair and dozed.
The nightmares came less often now, but crept back at odd moments.
She could work here when it was convenient, lock the doors if she wanted privacy. And as it had a fully operational kitchen, she often chose her AutoChef over Summerset when she was alone in the house.
With the sun streaming through the view wall at her back, she reviewed her caseload, juggled legwork. She knew she didn't have the luxury of focusing exclusively on the Fitzhugh case, particularly since it was earmarked a probable suicide. If she didn't turn up hard evidence in the next day or two, she'd have no choice but to lower its priority.
At eight sharp there was a brisk knock on the door.
"Come on in, Peabody."
"I'll never get used to this place," Peabody said as she walked inside. "It's like something out of an old video."
"You should get Summerset to take you on a tour," Eve said absently. "I'm pretty sure there are rooms I've never seen. There's coffee." Eve gestured toward the kitchen alcove and continued to frown at her logbook.
Peabody wandered off, scanning the entertainment units lining the wall, wondering what it would be like to be able to afford any amusement available: music, art, video, holograms, VR, meditation chambers, games. Play a set of tennis with the latest Wimbeldon champ, dance with a hologram of Fred Astaire, or take a virtual trip to the pleasure palaces on Regis III.
Daydreaming a bit, she turned into the kitchen. The AutoChef was already programmed for coffee, so she ordered two, carried the steaming mugs back into the office. She waited patiently while Eve continued to mutter.
Peabody sipped her coffee. "God. Oh God. It's real." Blinking in shock, she cupped both hands reverently around the mug. "This coffee is real."
"Yeah, you get spoiled. I can hardly stomach the slop down at Cop Central anymore." Eve glanced up, caught Peabody's dazed expression, and grinned. It hadn't been so long before that she'd had a similar reaction to Roarke's coffee. And to Roarke. "Pretty great, huh?"
"I've never had real coffee before." As if sipping liquid gold – and with the depletion of the rain forests and plantations it was equally dear – Peabody drank slowly. "It's amazing."
"You've got a half hour to OD on it while we work out the day's strategy."
"I can have more?" Peabody closed her eyes and just inhaled the scent. "You're a god, Dallas."
With a snort, Eve reached for her beeping 'link. "Dallas," she began, then her face lit with a grin. "Feeney."
"How's married life, kid?"
"It's tolerable. Pretty early in the day for you electronic detectives, isn't it?"
"Got a hot one working. A scramble at the chief's office. Some joker hacked into his mainframe and nearly fried the whole system."
"They got in?" Her eyes widened in surprise. She wasn't sure even Feeney, with his magic touch, could break the security on the Chief of Police and Security's system.
"Looks that way. Tangled shit all to hell and back. I'm unknotting it," he said cheerfully. "Thought I'd check in, see what's what since I haven't heard from you."
"I hit the ground running."
"You don't know any other speed. You primary on Fitzhugh?"
"That's right. Something I should know?"
"No. Smart money's that he iced himself, and nobody around here's too sorry. That oil slick loved squeezing cops on the stand. Funny though, second big suicide in a month."
Eve's interest spiked. "Second?"
"Yeah. Oh, that's right, you were off honeymooning and making cow's eyes." He wiggled his bushy red eyebrows. "Senator in East Washington a couple weeks ago. Jumped out the window of the Capitol Building. Politicians and lawyers. They're crazy anyway."
"Yeah. Could you get me the data on it when you have the chance? Transfer it to my office unit."
"What, you going to keep a scrapbook?"
"Just interested." The feeling was back in her gut, "I'll pick up the tab next time we're in the Eatery."
"No problem. As soon as I get this system unknotted, I'll feed it to you. Don't be a stranger," he told her and signed off.
Peabody continued to take miserly sips of coffee. "You think there's a connection between Fitzhugh and the senator who took the dive?"
"Lawyers and politicians," Eve murmured. "And autotronic engineers."
"What?"
Eve shook her head. "I don't know. Disengage," she ordered her unit, then swung her bag over her shoulder. "Let's go."
Peabody struggled not to pout about the lack of another cup of coffee. "Two suicides in two different cities in a month isn't such a weird thing," she began, lengthening her stride to catch up with Eve.
"Three. There was a kid on Olympus who hanged himself while we were there. Mathias, Drew. I want to see if you can find a connection, anything that ties them together. People, places, habits, education, hobbies." She rushed down the stairs, gearing up.
"I don't know the politician's name. I didn't pay attention to the reports on the East Washington suicide." Busily, Peabody tugged out her personal palm computer and began searching for data.
"Mathias was in his early twenties, autotronics engineer. He worked for Roarke. Shit." She had a bad feeling she was going to be forced to drag Roarke into her work once again. "If you run into a snag, ask Feeney. He can pop the data handcuffed and drunk, faster than either of us."