Loyalty in Death

"Then you wouldn't have heard that B. Donald Branson was killed last night."

"What?"

"He fell during a struggle when he was beating his wife."

"That's ridiculous. That's absurd. He wouldn't lay a hand on Clarissa. He worships her."

"Clarissa claims he's been abusing her physically for years."

"Then she's a liar," Lisbeth snapped out. "He treated her like a princess, and if she says otherwise, she's lying through her teeth."

She stopped abruptly, went very pale.

"You didn't find the photographs in your mail slot, did you, Lisbeth? You had them handed to you by someone you trusted – someone you thought cared about J.C."

"I – I found them."

"No point in lying to protect the Bransons. He's dead, and she's gone. Who gave you the photographs of J. C., Lisbeth? Who gave them to you and told you that he was cheating on you?"

"I saw the pictures. I saw them with my own eyes. He was with that blond bitch."

"Who gave them to you?"

"Clarissa." She blinked once, twice, and tears started to stream. "She brought them to me, and she was crying. She said how sorry she was, how sorry. She begged me not to tell anyone she'd given them to me."

"How did she get them?"

"I never asked. I just looked at them, and I went crazy. She told me it had been going on for months, and she couldn't pretend not to know any longer. She couldn't stand to see me hurt and J. C. ruin his life over some cheap lay. She knew how jealous I was, she knew. When I got to his house, he denied it. He told me I was crazy, there wasn't any blonde. But I'd seen! And the next thing I knew, I was picking up that drill. Oh my God, oh my God. J.C."

She collapsed into the chair, wailing.

"Get her a tranq, Peabody." Eve's voice held no sympathy. "We'll have a car come by and pick her up. When she's pulled it together, McNab can take a statement."

– =O=-***-=O=-

"I know we're pressed for time." Peabody jumped in the car again. "But I feel like I'm three steps behind."

"Branson's co

"That's the part that hung me up all along, but a guy tells you he kills another guy, you generally go with it. Still we've got no body, and there's nothing on the droid playback to indicate he was instructed to weigh it down. The search team's sensors don't pick another up, it doesn't bob up and float, but we know it got tossed in the river."

"Droids don't float, and the sensors are looking for flesh, blood, and bone."

"See, you're catching up. Now, we co

"He doesn't understand women," Peabody murmured. "He's practically still a kid."

"He wouldn't understand this one if he'd hit the century mark. She trolled for him and reeled him in. She and Branson got rid of the brother, which leads me to believe he wasn't involved in Cassandra. He was weight, so they ditched him. I'm primary on the case, and they don't want me looking too hard, having just the kind of talk with Lisbeth I just finished having, so they tag me on the bombings. Blowing up the city's going to pull my attention away from a plea bargain I know I can't change."

"Whoever had pulled J. C. Branson's homicide would have been tagged? They moved to you because of that?" Peabody considered. "That was their big mistake."

"That was excellent sucking up, Peabody. Smooth, subtle."

"I've been practicing."

"The politics are more smoke – pull the attention away, waste our time. It's the money they're after and the sheer delight in destroying."

"But they have money."

"More's better, especially if you grew up on the run, hiding out, maybe scraping for the good life. What do you want to bet Clarissa Branson spent her formative years in Apollo?"

"That's a big leap, Lieutenant."

"'We are loyal,'" Eve quoted as she zipped through the security gate to the parking area under Roarke's midtown offices.

Peabody gawked a little when they moved into the private elevator, but before she could comment, Eve's 'link beeped.

"Lieutenant Dallas? Captain Sully, Boston PD. The patrols just reported in from the Rowan address. Monica Rowan has been the victim of what appears to be a bungled B and E. She's dead."

"Damn it. I'll need a full report on that, priority level, Captain."

"I'll get you as much as I can as quick as I can. Sorry we can't be of more help."

"So am I," Eve murmured as she ended the call. "Goddamn it, I should've put a wall around her."

"How could you know?"

"I do know. Just a little too late." She strode out of the elevator, moved past Roarke's efficient assistant without stopping.

Efficiency prevailed, however. Roarke was opening the door for her himself when Eve got there.

"Lieutenant, I didn't expect you personally."

"I'm heading in. I'm pressed to the wall here." She looked in his eyes, wished she could say… wanted to. "Things are coming together, and the clock's ru

"Then you'll want your bait." He looked into her eyes. "I assume several million in counterfeit bonds is bait – with you as hook."

"We're closing in. With any luck, this should finish it. I – Peabody, take a walk," she said without looking back.

"Sir?"

"Step out, Peabody."

"Stepping out, Lieutenant."

"Look…" Eve began. "I'm really hitting the wire on this, so I can't get into stuff. I'm sorry about before."

"You're sorry I'm irritated."

"Okay, fine. I'm sorry you're irritated, but I have to ask for a favor."

"Personal or official?"

Oh, he was going to make it tough. She leveled her gaze, and a muscle in her cheek twitched. "Both. I need everything you can dig up on Clarissa Branson – everything – And I need it really fast. I can't spare Feeney, and even if I could, you'll be quicker and you won't leave fingerprints."

"Where do you want me to send the data?"

"I need you to call me with it, privacy mode, on my personal palm-link. I don't want her to know I'm looking."

"She won't." He turned and lifted a wide steel case. "Your bonds, Lieutenant."

She tried a smile. "I won't ask you how you managed this so fast."

He didn't smile back. "Best not."

She nodded, hefted the case, and felt miserable. She couldn't remember another time when they'd been together for five minutes and he hadn't touched her in some way. She'd gotten so used to it, so dependent on it, that she felt the loss like a backhanded slap.

"Thanks. I'll – The hell with it." She took a fistful of his hair, and swallowing what for her was a great gulp of pride, pressed her mouth hard to his. "See you later," she muttered and turned on her heel, stormed out.

Now he smiled, just a little, and walked to his desk to do the favor she'd asked of him.

– =O=-***-=O=-

"You okay, Dallas?"

"Yeah, shit. I'm dancing." She was stripped down to her undershirt and jeans, a fact which mildly embarrassed both her and Feeney.

"I can call in a female to, ah, finish this."