“You know more about girl stuff than I do. Scan the record, the segment in Yost’s dressing room deal. Give me a rundown on the enhancements. If it’s out of your scope, I’m going to pass it to Mavis. She knows everything.”
“Anything above discount counter is out of my scope, enhancement-wise. I might recognize some of the brands though.”
“Make another copy of that segment. I’ll tag Mavis.”
She finished the fries on the way up to her office, pitched the empty container, then closed herself in her office. She had one step to take before she hunkered down to paperwork, and she wanted to take it in private.
As an extra precaution, she used her personal palm-link.
Roarke answered on the second beep. “Hello, Lieutenant. How did it go?”
“It went. I got to deck Jacoby with no official flak coming down on me, so that’s something.”
“I hope you got it on record. I’d love to watch.”
“Har. Actually I did, which is why I had to deck him, and why I’m calling. I got . . .” She trailed off as she managed to look beyond his face and recognized the room.
“What are you doing in there?” she demanded. “I told you I didn’t want any data accessed on your unregistered.”
“Who said I was accessing data for you?”
“Listen—”
“I do have other business. I have no intention of passing you data accessed in other than official and legal means.”
He’d simply filter it through Feeney first.
“By the way, you’ve had the return transmission from The New Savoy. Confirmation of Yost’s stay there. I’ve sent the pertinents to you. Now, what else can I do for you?”
She studied him through narrowed and suspicious eyes. “Are you lying?”
“About Yost’s stay in London?”
“Don’t be a wiseass. About what you’re doing in that room right now.”
“If I were, I’d simply compound it by lying again. I suppose you’ll just have to trust me, won’t you?” He smiled at her. “Now as much as I’d love to while away the day chatting with you, darling, I do have work. What do you want?”
“All right.” She hissed out a breath. “I got Yost’s place on record. Fancy stuff. You’d like most of it. I can run it down, or try to piece by piece, but I figured if you took a look, you might be able to tag it faster. Paintings, sculptures, antiques. You’d know if they’re the real thing by looking at a disc?”
“I would, most likely. I can’t guarantee, as good copies need to be examined in person.”
“I don’t peg him as the good copy kin
d of guy. He’s vain about that stuff, like somebody else I know.”
“You’re insulting your expert consultant, civilian.”
“Gotta get the digs in where I can. Anyway, maybe you can narrow down the sources for the artwork and the jazzy furniture.”
“Shoot it over. I’ll take a look.”
“Appreciate it.”
“See that you do. Good-bye, Lieutenant.”
He disconnected, leaned back, and examined the data on his wall screen.
Jacoby, Special Agent James.