"Really, darling. No need to get nasty. Yes, better," he decided with a nod.
"I hate you."
"I know." He leaned in to give her a light kiss. "I hate you, too. I'm in the mood for eggs Benedict. Why don't you have your shower, then you can update me over breakfast?"
"I'm not talking to you."
His grin flashed as he rose. "Such a cliched and female weapon." He turned, started down the stairs. And wasn't the least surprised when she landed on his back.
"That's more like it," he managed as she squeezed his windpipe with her crooked arm.
"Just be careful who you call a female, ace."
She dropped off, strode naked into the bath. Watching the indignant twitch of her ass, Roarke chuckled. "I don't know what I was thinking."
She only ate because there was no point in wasting the food. She only updated him because it helped her sort through data when she relayed events out loud.
He listened, idly stroking the cat.
"Between the hospital and MT staff," he commented, "the media will have been fed by now. That could work in your favor."
"I'm figuring. These two, they're not the type to go into the wind. Too much ego on the line for them to stop cold. I've got a lot of data on them. Maybe too much, maybe that's part of the problem. Too much data, not enough focus. You got all these lines to tug, they can get tangled on you."
She got up to strap on her shoulder harness. "I've got to streamline it."
"Why don't you let me take Allegany? It's mine, after all. People would be more likely to tell me things they wouldn't tell a badge. And what they don't tell me," he added, "I can find out in other ways. Ways that would probably be legal, more or less, since I now own the company."
"Your definition of more or less has a wider scope than mine." But it would save her time, and time was essential. "Try to stay close to the line on it."
"Whose line would that be? Yours or mine?"
"Har. I've got a briefing with the team at Central. Pass me anything you pick up."
"Naturally." Bringing the cat with him, he rose and crossed to her. Kissed her. "Take care of yourself, Lieutenant."
"Why should I?" She headed for the door. "You get such a charge out of doing it for me."
Roarke glanced down at the cat as he listened to his wife's boots click down the hall. "That's a point."
In the conference room she'd booked at Central, Eve played the security disc from Moniqua's building.
"We see here she's more in line with Bryna Bankhead. Similar physical type, more sophisticated appearance and lifestyle. He uses yet another look himself here, which tells me he doesn't like to repeat his character. Keeps it fresh for him. Same pattern, but he can walk through the performance from a new angle. Feeney?"
He picked up the rhythm. "According to the overscan of her home unit, he used the name Byron in correspondence with her. Probability indicates this is from the poet guy. Lord Byron. The e-mail messages go back two weeks."
"Again, follows pattern. He takes his time. With this pattern he'd have studied her in real life. Finding a place near her apartment or her workplace. We check both."
She glanced over as the door opened. Trueheart, young and ridiculously fresh in his uniform, flushed as heads turned in his direction. "Sorry. Excuse me, sir. I'm late."
"No, you're on schedule. Report?"
"Sir, subject Cline's condition remains unchanged. No one without authorization entered her hospital room. I remained on post, inside the room, throughout the shift."
"Were there any calls of inquiry relating to her?"
"Several, Lieutenant, beginning at approximately oh six hundred when the first media report hit. Five inquiries from reporters requesting medical information."
"That jibes as I've had double that on my office 'link. Sign out, Trueheart. Go get some sleep. I want you to resume your post at the hospital at eighteen hundred. I'll clear your duty sheet with your sergeant."
"Yes, sir. Lieutenant? I appreciate you requesting me."
Eve shook her head when he'd closed the door behind him. "Thanking me for sticking him with the most boring duty on or off planet. Okay, Roarke's digging into Allegany. I want all pertinent data on J. Forrester, and this Theodore McNamara who's currently dodging my messages. And we slog away at the online dealer. We concentrate on the chemicals. How, why, and where they get their supply."
"My source in Illegals only came up with one strong possible," Feeney said. "One known local dealer who specialized in the upper-end sex trade and made a profit. Name's Otis Gunn, and he was in the swim about ten years ago. Had a pretty good line going until he got cocky and started cooking and serving his own Rabbit at parties."
"What's he up to now?"
"Year nine of twenty." Feeney pulled a bag of nuts out of one of his sagging pockets. "Rikers."
"Yeah? I haven't visited the old homestead in a while. Wonder if they've missed me?" She broke off as her communicator signalled, paced away to answer. "I just cleared Louise through," she said as she tucked the communicator away again. "She claims to have some information on last night's hit."
She looked at the case board, at the new picture she'd pinned to it. She'd kept Moniqua's face separate from the dead. She wanted it to stay there.
When she turned back she saw something pass between McNab and Peabody. Something with just a little heat, so she looked away fast.
"Peabody, why don't I have any damn coffee?"
"I don't know, sir, but I will rectify that immediately."
Peabody popped up, was actually humming under her breath as she programmed the AutoChef. And there was a bright look in her eyes when she carried the coffee to Eve.
"Eat any good pizza lately?" Eve muttered, and the light in Peabody's eyes turned instantly to embarrassed guilt.
"Maybe. Just a slice… or two."
Eve leaned in. "Ate the whole damn pie, didn't you?"
"It was really good pizza. I sort of, you know, missed the taste of it."
"No more humming on duty."
Peabody squared her shoulders. "No, sir. All humming will cease immediately."
"And no sparkly-eye crap either," Eve added and yanked open the door to look for Louise.
"You can look pretty sparkly-eyed after really goodpizza, too," Peabody muttered, then decided not to press her luck when Eve snarled.
"Dallas." Louise double-timed it down the corridor. She wasn't wearing a power suit this morning, but the worn jeans and roomy shirt she usually donned for the clinic. "I'm so glad you are here. I didn't want to go into all this over a 'link."
"Sit down." Because Louise was pale despite her rush through Central's labyrinth, Eve took her arm and pulled her to a chair. "Take a breath, then tell me what you've got."
"Last night. I had a date last night. Drinks at The Royal Bar."
"Roarke's place? In The Palace Hotel?"
"Yes. I saw them. Dallas, I saw them sitting in a booth near our table. I spoke with her in the ladies' lounge."
"Slow down. Peabody, some water here."
"I wasn't paying attention," Louise continued. "If I had been I'd have seen… I can see her face right now as she sat in front of the mirror. It wasn't just champagne. I'm a doctor, goddamn it, I should have seen she was drugged. I can see it now."
"We see all kinds of things after. Here." She shoved the water into Louise's hands. "Drink, then suck it in, Louise. Suck it in and tell me everything you remember."
"Sorry." She sipped once. "When I saw the media report this morning, I recognized her. Realized." She drank again. "I called and checked on her condition on the way over. There's been no improvement. None. Her chances decrease every hour."
"Last night. Concentrate on last night. You're having drinks in the bar."
"Yes." She drew in a breath. Steadied. "Champagne, caviar. It was lovely. We were talking. I wasn't paying much attention to anything but him. But I did notice, sort of absently, the couple in the booth. They had champagne and caviar, too. I think, I'm nearly sure, they were already seated when we got there. They were sitting very close together. Very intimate. They were a very attractive couple."