Eve stepped out, took a breath. “Well, that was a long shot anyway. You can contact the others while I’m doing this stupid media conference.”
Peabody offered a big smile. “At least you’ll look really good for it.”
“That’s, of course, my primary concern. Get in the damn car.”
11
Eve hit her office first, frowning at the insulated tote on her desk. Wary, she gave it a poke, then twisted off the top.
The scent hit her first. Meat, a little grease, salt.
Tucked inside on a fancy disposable plate sat a fat burger and a large sleeve of fries. And in Roarke’s oddly artistic handwriting around the lip of the plate, looped the one-word order:
Eat
First, she wondered how the hell he’d pulled it off, and second, as she ate a fry, how food of any kind had managed to survive the ravagers in her bullpen.
She supposed the answer was the same for both questions: Roarke was Roarke.
She’d intended to have coffee, but a burger and fries demanded, in her mind, a cold tube of Pepsi. She thought she probably had enough time to scarf it all down, update her board, and think for five damn minutes before dragging her ass to the media center.
Stuffing in another fry, she shrugged out of her coat, turned to the AutoChef.
“Hey, Dallas, I just checked in with…” Peabody stopped, sniffed the air like a hound. “I smell— Oh my God, is that a burger? It’s a burger. And it’s fries.”
Saying nothing, accepting her duty—which was not the primal instinct to stuff the entire burger in her own mouth—Eve pulled out the knife in her pocket, flipped open the blade.
Peabody’s hopeful eyes watched as Eve cut the burger in half.
“No drooling,” Eve ordered and handed Peabody her share.
“Oh, man. Thanks.” Peabody bit in, then hummed like a woman being gently stroked like a lover. “It’s cow. It’s a cowburger. Here is joy and rapture.”
After her own bite, Eve just thought: good. And continued to eat one-handed as she updated her board. “Why are you in here eating half my burger instead of contacting the wits?”
Peabody swallowed the tiny bite of burger—had to make it last. “Got a tag in to all three in Ongar’s party. And I had one from McNab, which is why. Can I have a fry, too?”
“Half of them. Not a single fry over half.”
“I’m not going to eat half because loose pants, but a quarter. I can eat a quarter.” She selected one, bit in, hummed again. “McNab said they’re into her home and purse electronics—and the shields were serious. Serious moolah to pay for them,” she added after another bite and hum. “Now they’re working on the encryption.”
Eve glanced back. “She has data encrypted?”
“Not all of it, but considerable. He thinks what he’s prioritizing is her list of marks, probably payments and maybe contact info. And Roarke’s there now, helping out.”
“I figured, since I’m eating half a cowburger.”
“One day I might develop your really casual relationship with food.” With a glance at what was left of her half a burger, Peabody sighed. “Except I don’t think so, as we have a lifelong love affair.”
Eve continued to work on her board. “Let’s eliminate the intern, this Monicka Poole. The wits didn’t see the suspect’s face, but they all lean toward male. But maybe that was deliberate. Poke around there, determine if we should bring her in.”
“Will do,” Peabody said around a mouthful of fries. “Maybe, as the kill was so quick and clean, somebody hired it out. I can see if she had the finances to pay for a hit.”
“Hit’s unlikely. A pro’s not going to box himself into a public restroom with only one way in and out. But we should tie the possibility off. Work the wits. Take a look at the bar layout again, pull up the receipt list. Follow up on any customers who sat with an eyeline on the suspect’s table. We could get lucky.”
“On it. Thanks for the burger. Mega time.”
Eve only nodded, and as Peabody went out again, sat on the corner of her desk, idly nibbling on fries while she studied her updated board.