Memory in Death (In Death 22)

“Dee.” He only called her Dee when he was particularly tender, or especially exasperated. This, from his tone, seemed to be some of both. “It is a real big to take someone home for Christmas. You’re the first I have.”

“Oh, God. That just makes it worse. Or better. I don’t know which.” She swallowed, pressed a hand to her belly. “I think I feel sick.”

“They’re not going to hate you. They’re going to love you because I do. I love you, She-Body.” He gave her the smile, the one that made her think of little puppy dogs. “Please come home with me. I’ve been waiting a long time to show you off.”

“Oh, wow. Oh, boy.” Sentimental tears sprang to her eyes as she jumped him. His hands clamped on her ass.

“I’ve got to lock the door,” he muttered as he bit cheerfully at her ear.

“Everybody’ll know what we’re doing.”

“I love being the object of envy. Mmm, I missed you. Let me just—”

“Wait, wait!” She shoved back, dug into her pocket. “I forgot.

God. It’s our present from Dallas and Roarke.”

“I’d rather have one from you right now.”

“Look. You’ve got to look. They’re giving us the trip,” she said as she opened the box, showed him the cards inside. “Private shuttle, ground transpo. The works.”

Since his hands dropped off her ass, she figured he was as stunned as she’d been. “Holy shit.”

“All we have to do is pack,” she said with a watery smile. “You don’t have to take the side job, unless you want it. I’m sorry I was such a freak about this. I love you, too.”

She threw her arms around him, locked lips. Then eased back with a wicked wiggle of eyebrows. “I’ll lock the door.”

* * *

Minutes after Eve stepped into her office to coordinate her next move, Peabody rushed in.

“I’ve got the initial sweeper’s report on the room the Lombards vacated—nothing,” Peabody said hurriedly. “Canvassing cops found the bar—one block east, two south of the hotel. Door was unlocked. Zana’s purse was inside on the floor. I have a team heading there now.”

“You’ve been busy,” Eve said. “How did you manage to fit in sex?”

“Sex? I don’t know what you’re talking about. I bet you want coffee.” She darted to the AutoChef, then whirled back. “How do you know I had sex? Do you have sex radar?”

“Your shirt’s not buttoned right, and you’ve got a fresh hickey on your neck.”

“Damn it.” Peabody slapped a hand to the side of her neck. “How bad is it? Why don’t you have a mirror in here?”

“Because, let’s see, could it be because it’s an office? You’re a disgrace. Go do something about yourself before the commander—” Her interoffice ‘link beeped. “Too late. Step back. Step the hell back so you’re not on-screen. Christ.”

Her head might have dropped in shame as she eased out of range, but a smile tugged at Peabody’s mouth. “We made up.”

“Can it. Dallas.”

“Commander Whitney would like to see you in his office, immediately.”

“On my way.” She clicked off. “Give me the salient, make it fast.”

“I’ll come. I just need to—”

“Give me the salient, Detective. Then write your report.”

“Sir. The sweepers found no evidence in the rooms vacated by Bobby and Zana to tie them to the murder under investigation. Zana Lombard’s handbag was located by canvassing officers inside a bar called Hidey Hole on Ninth between Thirty-nine and Forty. The officers entered the premises when it was noted that the security was off, and the lock disengaged. The officers sealed the building, and sweepers are responding.”

“Name of the owner of the bar, the owner of the building.”