Memory in Death (In Death 22)

“You have chocolate bars sealed and taped outside the window,” Peabody said with a mixture of awe and puzzlement.

“I did have,” Eve corrected. She was giving up the best hiding place she’d devised from the nefarious candy thief. She unsealed the bag, handed the speechless Peabody a bar. “They’ll be somewhere else after you leave and I lock the door and find a new spot for my cache.”

“Okay. I’m putting it in my pocket before I tell you we didn’t get Murder Two.”

“Didn’t figure you did.”

Not one to take chances with chocolate, Peabody shoved the bar into her pocket anyway. “PA told me we wouldn’t before we went in to pitch the deal. He wanted Zero bad, more than me, I think. Zero’s slipped through his fingers plenty, and the PA wanted to nail him.”

Eve leaned against her desk. “I like a PA with an agenda.”

“It helps,” Peabody agreed. “We spooked them with talk of two consecutive life sentences, off planet penal colony, made noises about eye witnesses.”

Peabody tapped her fingers on her pocket as if to reassure herself the candy was still there. “We got ourselves a search and seize, and popped some illegals from the club and Zero’s residence. Petty stuff, really, and the claim they were for personal use might have been true, but we just kept piling it up. By the time we’d finished, Zero and his lawyer were looking at Man Two as a gift from the Higher Powers. Five to ten, and he probably won’t serve the full minimum, but—”

“You got him in a cage, and that’s a check in the win column. He loses his license, he pays out the butt in fees and fines, his club will likely go tits up. You keep the chocolate.”

“It was great.” And since the candy in her pocket was currently screaming her name, Peabody gave in, took it out, and unwrapped enough to break off a knuckle’s worth. “It was a rush to push it through,” she said with her happy mouth full. “I’m sorry you missed it.”

“So am I. Thanks for covering.”

“No problem. You can put the bag back outside. It’ll be safe from me.” At the narrowed, speculative look in Eve’s eye, she rushed on. “Ah, not that it wouldn’t be safe from me anywhere you put it. I’m not saying that I’ve ever had any part in taking any candy of any sort from this office.”

Eve flattened the look—cop interrogating suspect. “And if we did a quick little truth test on that?”

“What?” Peabody put a hand to her ear. “Did you hear that? Someone’s calling me from the bull pen. There may be crimes being committed even now while we lollygag. Gotta go.”

Eyes still narrowed, Eve walked to the door, shut and locked it. Lollygag? What the hell kind of word was lollygag? A guilty one if she was any judge.

She gave the bag a shake as she considered where her next candy vault might be.

* * *

Between a meeting with the senior staff of one of his manufacturing arms and a lunch he had scheduled in his executive dining room with investors, Roarke’s interoffice link beeped.

“Yes, Caro.” His brow winged up when he noted she’d engaged privacy mode.

“The individual you mentioned this morning is downstairs, lobby level, and requesting a moment of your time.”

He’d bet himself a half mil she’d contact him before noon. Now he went double or nothing she’d show her hand before he booted her out again.

“Is she alone?”

“Apparently.”

“Keep her waiting down there another ten minutes, then escort her up. Not personally. Send an assistant, please, Caro—a young one. Keep her cooling out there until I buzz you.”

“I’ll take care of it. Would you like me to buzz you again a few minutes after she’s in your office?”

“No.” He smiled, and it wasn’t pleasant. “I’ll get rid of her personally.”

He was looking forward to it.

After checking the time, he rose, walked to the wall of glass that opened his office to the spires and towers of the city. It was just rain now, he noted. Dreary and gray and dull, shitting down on the streets from an ugly sky.

Well, he and Eve knew all about being shit on. Life hadn’t dealt either of them a pretty hand, and had given them no stake to play it. What they’d done—each in his own way—was make a win out of it. Bluffing, bulling, and

at least in his case, cheating their way to the pot at the end of the day.