"I do." He grinned again. "Gives her a chance to snarl at me. She's got great teeth."
He got up, paced around Eve's cramped box of an office. They both would have been surprised to realize their thoughts on relationships were, at that moment, running on parallel lines.
McNab's hot date with an off-planet flight consultant had cooled and soured the night before. She'd bored him, he thought now, which should have been impossible as she'd put her truly magnificent breasts on display in something sheer and silver.
He hadn't been able to work up any enthusiasm because his thoughts had continued to drift to the way a certain prickly cop looked in her starched
uniform.
What the hell did she wear under that thing? he wondered now, as he had unfortunately wondered the night before. That speculation had caused him to end the evening early, annoying the flight consultant so that when he came to his senses—as he was sure he would—he'd never get another shot at those beautiful breasts.
He was, he decided, spending too many nights home alone, watching the screen.
Which reminded him.
"Hey, I caught Mavis's video on-screen last night. Frigid."
"Yeah, it's pretty great." Eve thought of her friend; even now on her first tour to promote her recording disc for Roarke's entertainment arm, singing her butt off in Atlanta. Mavis Freestone, Eve thought sentimentally, was a long way from shrieking her lungs out for the zoned and the glazed at dives like the Blue Squirrel.
"The disc is starting to take off. Roarke thinks it'll make the top twenty next week."
McNab jingled credit chips in his pocket. "And we knew her when, right?"
He was stalling, Eve thought, and she was letting him. "I think Roarke's planning a party or something once she gets back."
"Yeah? Great." Then he perked up at the unmistakable sound of police-issue shoes slapping worn linoleum. McNab had his hands in his pockets and a look of sheer disinterest on his face when Peabody came through the door.
"NJPSD came through with—" She broke off, scowled. "What do you want, McNab?"
"Multiple orgasms, but you guys copped that one out of the goodie bag."
A laugh tried to bubble into her throat, but Peabody controlled it. "The lieutenant doesn't have time for your pitiful jokes."
"Actually, the lieutenant kind of liked that one," Eve said, then rolled her eyes when Peabody glared at her. "Take off, McNab, play period's over."
"Just thought you'd be interested," he continued, "that in running the 'links and memo books of the deceased, no calls, incoming and outgoing, were transmitted to a female other than his assailant or his office staff. No records of appointments appear in his log for liaisons," he said, rolling out the word with a smirk for Peabody, "other than those involving Lisbeth Cooke—who he often refers to as Lissy my love."
"No record of another woman?" Eve pursed her lips. "What about another guy?"
"Nope, no dates either way, and no indication of bisexuality."
"Interesting. Run the office logs, McNab. I wonder if Lissy my love was lying about her motive, and if so, why she killed him."
"I'm on it." As he strolled out, he paused just long enough to throw Peabody a loud, exaggerated kiss.
"He is such a complete asshole."
"Maybe he irritates you, Peabody—"
"There's no maybe involved."
"But he was smart enough to see that his report might change a few angles on this case."
The idea of McNab dipping his toe into one of her cases, again, had Peabody bristling. "But the Cooke case is closed. The perpetrator confessed, has been charged, booked, and bonded."
"She got man two. If it wasn't a crime of passion, maybe we get more. It's worth finding out if Branson was bouncing on somebody on the side or if she made that up to cover another motive. We'll take a run over to his office later today, ask some questions. Meanwhile…" She wagged her curled fingers toward the disc Peabody still held.
"Detective Sally's primary," Peabody began as she handed Eve the disc. "He's got no problem cooperating. Basically because he's got nothing. The body'd been in the river at least thirty-six hours before discovery. He's got no witnesses. The victim wasn't carrying any cash or credits, but he did have ID and credit cards. He was wearing a wrist unit—Carder knockoff but a good one—so Sally ruled out a standard mugging, especially when the autopsy didn't turn up a tongue."