by J. D. Robb
“Nothing’s that simple.”
“I love you, absolutely. Nothing’s simple about it, but it’s complete. You never kissed me good-bye this morning.” He leaned down, brushed his lips over hers.
She couldn’t help it, the love simply welled up. “Bye,” she murmured, and made him smile.
He brushed her lips again, warm and sweet. “Hello. I’ll wager you haven’t had any dinner.”
“I’m spinning my wheels on this investigation. Haven’t thought much about food.”
“Think about it now.” He took her hand, linked their fingers, and used the other to scratch the cat when Galahad bumped his head against Roarke’s arm. “You’re looking tired, Lieutenant, and hollow-eyed the way you do when you haven’t eaten or gotten enough sleep. I’ll punch in burgers, that usually tempts you. And you can tell me about the case.”
He didn’t want to discuss the morning, she thought, or his meeting with Magdelana. He was nudging it all aside, very smoothly. But it had to be discussed. Had to be front and center.
“She came to my office.”
Nothing changed on his face, not by the smallest flicker. It was hardly a wonder he was lethal in business negotiations.
“Magdelana?”
“No, the Queen of the May.”
“A bit early for her. Does she work anything like the February groundhog?”
“Gee, that’s funny. But to get back to the topic. She came to see me at the end of shift. Thought we could have a nice, chatty drink, be pals. Guess what my answer was?”
He pushed off the desk. “I’m sorry if it upset you,” he said as he moved to a wall panel, opened it to take out a bottle of brandy. “She’s outgoing, impulsive. I imagine she was curious about you.”
“Is that what you imagine?” She felt the anger warring with something inside her, something she recognized as acute distress. “Even after you told her she wouldn’t like me.”
He glanced at Eve, poured the brandy, replaced the bottle. “No more than you would her. Very likely she intended to make the gesture and prove me wrong.”
Blind spot, Summerset had told her. “I think that was pretty low on her list of intentions. You’re going to work with her?”
This time irritation escaped control just long enough to show. “I’m not, no.”
“Then she’s a liar?”
“If she said I was, she misspoke, or you misconstrued.”
“I misconstrued?”
“Christ Jesus.” He knocked back some brandy. “You’re trying to box me into a corner here, and there’s none to be had. We had a perfectly innocent lunch, at which time she asked for my help with some investments she wants to make. I agreed to give her some direction, and some names of people she might work with. It’s nothing I haven’t done for other people countless times before.”
“She’s not other people.”
“Bollocks to this.” And there was the temper, rich and ripe. “Did you expect I would say, ‘Sorry, can’t give you the names of a few money people as my wife doesn’t like the fact we shagged a dozen bloody years ago?’ This isn’t like you, Eve.”
“I can’t say, as I haven’t been in this position before.”
“What position, exactly?”
“Having a woman you have feelings for thrown in my face. Knowing she meant for me to feel exactly that.”
“As I’m not a bleeding droid I’ve had feelings for other women before I met you, and you’ve run into a few of them. As for Magdelana, why would she want to antagonize you?” he demanded. “She’d have nothing to gain. You’re overreacting, and making a situation out of something that happened years before I knew you existed. Do you need reassurance from me? Promises, pledges? After all we’ve come to be to each other?”
“How is it she’s made all the moves, and I’m in the wrong here? You don’t see her.”
“I see you. I see my wife twisting herself into a jealous knot over something long past.”
He set the brandy aside again, ordered himself to be calm. “Eve, I can’t go back and change what I was, what was done all those years ago. I wouldn’t if I could. Why would I? If I took a step then, it somehow brought me here. To you.”
That wasn’t the point, she thought. Or was it? But everything that wanted to come out of her mouth sounded, even in her head, like the whining of a needy woman. “Can you tell me she doesn’t want to pick up where you left off?”
“If she did, or does for that matter, she’ll be disappointed. Eve, you and I didn’t come to each other as children, or as innocents. If either of us wind ourselves up over relationships that came and went before our own, we’ll forever be in knots.”
“Excuse me?” She pushed to her feet. “You beat the hell out of Webster right in this room.”
“He had his hands on you, in our home. That’s bloody different.” The words lashed out, hot-tipped and razor sharp. “And never did I think you invited it, encouraged it, or would have tolerated it. You and I went round, Lieutenant, because you threatened to stun me. What in fucking hell do you want?”
“I guess to know what in fucking hell she wants. Is she planning a job? Does she want you—”
“If she is, it wasn’t mentioned to me. In fact, quite the opposite. And if she is, it would be no business of mine. Is that how you see me? So spineless that I’d slip back not only over the line, but into another woman’s bed?”
“No.”
“Whatever she might want, Eve, she’ll get no more from me than what I agreed to give. Some basic investment options. Should I have my admin write that up in the form of a contract for you?”
Her throat burned, the headache was back, and she’d accomplished nothing but pissing him off while putting Magdelana squarely between them. “I hate this. I hate feeling this way, acting this way. I hate that we’re standing here arguing about her. Putting her in the center of it.”
“Then stop.” He moved to her then. He laid his hands on her shoulders, ran them up and down her arms before drawing her against him. “If we’re to argue, at least let’s argue about something real. Not this. You’re not just the center of my world, Eve.” He kissed her brow, her temples, her lips. “You’re the whole of it.”
She flung her arms around him, held hard. He’d answered, she told herself. Put at away, put it aside. “It’s your fault I love you like this.” For a moment, she pressed her face to his shoulder. “That I’m stupid with it.”
“Of course it is.” He brushed a hand over her hair, laid his cheek against it. And felt his own insides relax again. “We’ll feel stupid together. Better now?”
Better, she thought. But it wasn’t over. She was afraid enough of what might happen next that she told herself, again, to let it go. Just let it go. “Good enough.”
Telling herself to change the tone, she eased back. “Burgess in New Jersey was very cooperative.”
“I’m delighted to hear it.” He traced a fingertip down the slight dent in her chin. “Who is Burgess, and why is he being cooperative in New Jersey?”
“She. She manages your plant there, and got your memo.”
“My…ah. I sent one out to various holdings right after the first of the year. Came in handy today, did it?”
“Cut through the crap. Just FYI, I don’t really mind cutting through the crap myself, but thanks. You process castor beans.”
“I’m sure I do.”
“Ricin, the poison that killed Foster, comes from the mash after the beans are processed into oil.”
His eyes narrowed. “Is the plant connected?”
“So far, I can’t find a connection between anyone on my suspect list and the plant. Would’ve been nice and tidy. I don’t have a motive either, or not a clear one. It’s possible Foster saw, at some time, one of the other teachers diddling someone inappropriate during school hours. Murder’s a pretty harsh reaction to being caught with your pants down.”
“Perhaps Foster was blackmailing the diddler, or the diddlee.”
�
��No evidence of it, and it veers out of his characteristic orbit. I haven’t found a single person he wasn’t on good terms with, including the infamous diddler. Waiting for lab reports, and I’m taking a look at every member of the faculty, support staff, and administration. Along with parents of students. I got no buzz on this one, nothing that feels hot.”
“Why don’t I take a look at some of it. Fresh eyes, new view.”
“Couldn’t hurt.”
He’d forgotten to nag her to eat some dinner, she thought as he sat to look over her data. Slipped his mind, she decided. Probably for the best. She didn’t have much of an appetite.
When she slept, she slept in patches, and the patches were full of dreams. The dreams were conversations, mixed and jumbled from her arguments with Roarke, her interviews, her interlude with Percell. With the voices tangling inside her head, she awoke exhausted.
But he was there where he was in the mornings, drinking coffee in the sitting area of the bedroom, financials scrolling on the screen, the sound muted.
Eve dragged herself to the shower and tried to flood out the fatigue with the jets on full and hot.
When she came back into the bedroom, he’d switched to the morning news. She headed straight for the coffee.
“You didn’t rest well,” he said with a long look at her face.
“Case is bugging me.”
“Wish I could’ve been more help.”
She shrugged, carried the coffee to the closet. “Maybe something will loosen up today.”
“There’s a change of clothes in the bag there, for your spot tonight with Nadine.”
She frowned at the hanging bag. “Why do I need to change?”
“Consider it a precaution in the event you have a normal day and end up with blood on you, or tear your pants while tackling a suspect after a mad foot chase.”
“The way things are going, I’ll spend most of today buried in paperwork and getting nowhere.”
“In that unhappy event—no, not that jacket.”
“What’s wrong with it?” Though she scowled in irritation, a part of her was so happy with his comment—the normalcy of it—she wanted to grin like an idiot.
“It’s not particularly screen-friendly.”
“Neither am I.”
“True enough. However…” He rose, wandered to her closet.
“I don’t need you to pick out my clothes.”
“Oh, darling Eve, you so absolutely do.” He pulled out a jacket in bronze tones she swore she’d never seen before, paired it with deep brown trousers, a cream-colored turtleneck.
“Be wild and crazy,” he added as he draped the pieces over the back of the sofa. “Wear some earrings. Small gold hoops, perhaps.”
When she started to snarl, he caught her face in his hands and kissed her—long, slow, and deep. “I love that mouth,” he murmured, “especially when it’s about to be sarcastic. How do you feel about bacon and eggs?”
“More enthusiastic than I feel about small gold hoops hanging from my earlobes.”
But she found a pair, dressed, pleased that he’d poked at her about her clothes.
And just as she was about to sit down with him, as the cat leaped on the arm of the sofa to eye the bacon, Roarke’s pocket ’link beeped.
She knew the minute he pulled it out to check the display. “Take it,” Eve said, even as he started to slide the ’link back in his pocket. “I guess she’s an early riser.”
“I switched her to voice mail. Let’s eat before this gets cold.”
“Take it,” Eve repeated. “Peabody’ll be here any minute anyway. I’ll see you later.”
“Damn it, Eve.”
“Later,” she said again, and kept walking.
8
“NICE THREADS,” PEABODY COMMENTED, COMing in as Eve was coming down. “Roarke, right?”
“Who else? Since obviously if left to my own devices I’d commit such fashion felonies as would frighten small children and embarrass multitudes.”
“Misdemeanors, anyway. We’re not going up to your office? Your AutoChef?”
“No.” Eve yanked on her coat as Summerset stood silently by. “Everybody’s getting a goddamn early start today. My vehicle better be where I left it,” she snapped at him. “Or I’m getting it myself, dragging you out, and running you over with it.”
“What you call a vehicle is outside, currently embarrassing the house.”
“Peabody.” Eve gestured for the door. Eve waited until Peabody went outside. “I want to know if she comes here. I want to know if she comes into this house. You got that?”
“Yes.”
She marched out into the cold, hatless, gloveless, then slid behind the wheel. “First address.”
Peabody gave it to her, then cleared her throat. “Rough night?”
“Life’s full of rough nights.”
“Look, if you want to talk about it or just spew, that’s what partners are for.”
“There’s a woman.”
“No possible way.”
It was said so quickly, and with such easy confidence, Eve would have been comforted under any other circumstances. “There’s a woman,” she repeated. “One he used to be involved with a long time ago. Seriously involved. She’s back, and she’s making moves. He doesn’t see them as moves. He doesn’t see what she is under the gloss. We’ve got a problem.”
“You’re sure—” It only took one look from Eve for Peabody to blow out a breath. “Okay, you’re sure. First I’m going to say he wouldn’t twist on you, not with anyone. But having some bitch put moves on him is a steamer. You want to go have a talk with her, put a little muscle into it. We can tune her up, put her ass on a shuttle for Siberia.”
“Sounds good.” She stopped at a light, scrubbed her hands over her face. “Can’t do it, can’t touch her, can’t beat her to death with a hammer and bury her in White Plains.”
“Bloomfield would be better than White Plains anyway.”
It got a weak laugh. “I don’t know how to do this, how hard to push him, how far to stand back. I don’t know the steps and strategy. I think I’ve already screwed up.”
“Dallas? I think you should tell him this hurts you.”
“I’ve never had to tell him something like that before. He sees stuff in me before I have to.” She shook her head. “It’s fucking me up. It’s fucking us up. And I’ve got to put it away and do my job.”
She ran down her conversation with Lissette Foster, and the deletion of the key ingredient in the contents of the go-cup.
“So it indicates that the poison was added to the drink prior to coming into the school, and most likely in a dupe vessel.”
“Well…” Peabody juggled it in her head. “Poison’s a method females opt for more often than males.”
“Statistically, yeah.”
“According to Lissette, Mirri Hallywell knew about the key ingredient. What if, knowing we’d cop to the recipe, she deliberately left it out. Lissette would end up being her alibi.”
“Convoluted,” Eve mused. “But not impossible.”
“Or Lissette could have left it out deliberately, same reason. And yeah,” Peabody said before Eve could comment, “it doesn’t bounce very well.”
“If you don’t toss the ball, it never bounces. We’ll keep the possibilities in the mix.”
Eve angled toward the curb, and when she got out it did her spirits good to see the disdain in the doorman’s eagle eyes.
“Can’t leave that heap there, lady.”
“Hey, you know how many sexual favors my partner here had to promise to score that ride?”
“You were supposed to perform them,” Peabody reminded her.
“Maybe I’ll get around to that. Meanwhile…” She pulled out her badge. “You’re going to watch over that heap like it was an XR-5000, fresh off the showroom floor. And you’re going to buzz up and tell—Who are we seeing here, Peabody?”
“The Fergusons.”
“You’re going to t
ell the Fergusons that we’ve come to chat.”
“Mr. Ferguson’s already left the building this morning. Breakfast meeting. Mrs. Ferguson’s still inside.”
“Then get hopping.”
He looked none too pleased, but rang the apartment and cleared them inside.
Into chaos.
Eileen Ferguson had a child of indeterminate age on her hip. He had some sort of pink goo circling his mouth and was wearing footed pajamas decorated with grinning dinosaurs.
Eve figured if dinosaurs grinned it was because dinner was about to be served. So why did adults decorate their offspring with carnivores? She’d never get it.
In the background came screams and barks and whoops that may have been glee or terror. Eileen herself wore a rust-colored sweater, loose black pants, and fuzzy slippers the color of cotton candy. Her brown hair was slicked back in a long tail and her eyes, a quiet hazel, seemed eerily calm given the noise level.
Eve wondered if she’d toked before answering the door.
“This must be about Craig Foster. Come in at your own risk.” She stepped back. “Martin Edward Ferguson, Dillon Wyatt Hadley.” She didn’t shout, but her voice, perfectly pleasant, carried. “Settle down right now, or I’ll dismantle that dog and shove the parts into the recycler. Sorry, coffee?” she said to Eve and Peabody.
“Ah, no.”
“Dog’s a droid-terrier mix. I had a moment of complete insanity and bought it for Martin for his birthday. And now, we pay the price.”
But Eve noted that the noise level had dropped. Perhaps, at one time or another, other items had found their way into Eileen’s recycler.
“Have a seat. I’ll just put Annie in her chair.”
The chair was a round and colorful deal with dozens of bright buttons and rolling things to entertain curious fingers. It beeped and it buzzed and let out what Eve thought was a fairly creepy chuckle. But Annie was immediately engaged.
“Word is that Mr. Foster was poisoned.” Eileen dropped into a black scoop chair. “Is that true?”
“We’ve determined Mr. Foster ingested a poisonous substance, yes.”
“Just tell me, is it safe for me to take these kids to school?”
“We have no reason to believe the students are in any danger.”
