Rapture in Death

"He's unmarked." Roarke picked up the brandy he'd poured himself. "And I believe he's begun to see the error of his ways."

Eve leaned down, peered closely into Jess's eyes, and watched him cringe back into the chair like a kicked dog. The sound he made was barely human. "What the hell did you do to him?"

He doubted Eve or the NYPSD would approve of the tricks he'd picked up in his more shadowy travels. "Much less than he deserved."

She straightened and now took a long, hard look at Roarke. He looked like a man about to entertain late night guests or chair an important business meeting. His suit was unwrinkled, his hair unmussed, his hands perfectly steady. But his eyes, she noted, were just on the down side of wild.

"Christ, you're scary."

Carefully, he set his brandy down. "I'll never hurt you again."

"Roarke." She pushed back the urge to go to him, close her arms around him. It wasn't what the moment called for, she decided. Or what he wanted. "This can't be personal."

"Yes." He drew in smoke, blew it out slowly. "It can. And is."

"Lieutenant." Peabody stepped in, her face bland. "The MTs are here. With your permission, I'll accompany the suspect to the health center."

"I'll go."

"Sir." Peabody slid a glance toward Roarke. He'd yet to take his eyes off Eve, she noted. And those eyes looked more than a little dangerous. "If you'll excuse me, I believe you have more pressing matters here. I can handle this. You still have a number of guests in the house, including the press. I'm sure you'd prefer this matter remain quiet until its disposition."

"All right. I'll contact Central from here, make the necessary arrangements. Prepare for second phase interview tomorrow, nine hundred hours."

"I'm looking forward to it." Peabody glanced over at Jess, lifted a brow. "He must have hit his head pretty hard. Still looks dazed, skin's clammy." She offered Roarke a wide smile. "I know just how that feels."

Roarke laughed, feeling more of the tension drain away. "No, Peabody. In this case, I don't believe you do."

He got up, walked to her and, framing her square face with his elegant hands, kissed her. "You're beautiful," he murmured before turning to Eve. "I'll see to the rest of our guests. Take your time."

As he walked out, Peabody touched her fingertips to her lips. Pleasure had radiated down to her toes and out through the reinforced tips of her boots. "Oh wow. I'm beautiful, Dallas."

"I owe you, Peabody."

"I think I just got paid." She stepped back to the door. "Here come the MTs. We'll get our boy out of here. Tell Mavis she was absolutely ultra."

"Mavis." Eve pressed her fingers to her eyes. How was she going to tell Mavis?

"If I were you, Dallas, I'd give her tonight to glow. You can tell her about this later. She'll be fine. In here," she called, gesturing. "We got us what looks like a mild concussion."

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Getting a warrant for search and seizure at two in the morning was a tricky business. She lacked the straightforward data to cop an automatic clearance and needed a judge. Judges tended to be cranky about calls in the middle of the night. And trying to explain why she needed clearance for a sweep and scan of a music console currently on her own premises was a dicey job.

This being the case, Eve tolerated the clipped, angry lecture from her judge of choice.

"I understand that, Your Honor. But this can't wait until a decent hour in the morning. I have a strong suspicion that the console in question is linked to the deaths of four people. Its designer and operator is currently being detained, and I ca

"You're telling me music kills, Lieutenant?" The judge snorted. "I could have told you that. The crap they're pumping out these days could murder an elephant. In my day, we had music. Springsteen, Live, Cult Killers. That was music."

"Yes, sir." She rolled her eyes. She'd had to pick a classic music buff. "I really need that warrant, Your Honor. Captain Feeney is available to begin the initial scan. The operator had admitted to using the console illegally, on the record. I need more to tie it to the cases in question."

"You ask me, those music consoles should be ba

"Not if the evidence bears out my belief that this console and its operator are linked to the death of Senator Pearly and others."

There was a pause, a wheeze. "That's a big leap. No pun intended."

"Yes, sir. I need the warrant to bridge the gap."

"I'll send it through, but you better have something, Lieutenant. And it better be solid."

"Thank you. Sorry to have disturbed – " The 'link clicked in her ear, forcefully. "Your sleep," she finished, then picked up her communicator and tagged Feeney.

"Hey, Dallas." His face was flushed with fun, wide with a grin. "Where ya been, kid? Party's just breaking up. You missed Mavis doing a set with a hologram of the Rolling Stones. You know how I feel about Jagger."

"Yeah, he's like a father to you. Don't take off, Feeney. I've got a job for you."

"Job? It's two a.m., and my wife's feeling, you know – " He winked sloppily. "Interested."

"Sorry, put the glands on hold. Roarke will arrange to have your wife taken home. I'll be up in ten. Take a dose of Sober-Up if you need it. It could be a long night."

"Sober-Up?" His face fell into its usual morose lines. "I've been working all night to get drunk. What's this about?"

"Ten minutes," she repeated and cut him off.

She took the time to change out of the party dress, and discovered bruises she hadn't been aware of throbbing fresh. She took a quick moment to slap a coat of numbing cream where she could reach and winced her way into a shirt and trousers.

Still, she was true to her word and walked onto the roof terrace ten minutes later.

Roarke had been at work here, she noted, and had cleared out lingering guests. If there were any stragglers, he was dealing with them elsewhere, giving her a clear stage.

Feeney sat alone on a chair beside a decimated buffet spread, glumly eating pate. "You sure know how to put me out of a party mood, Dallas. The wife was so dazzled to get a limo ride home, she forgot she was going to jump me. And Mavis was looking all over for you. I think she was a little hurt you didn't hang around to congratulate her."

"I'll make it up to her." Her porta-link hummed, signaling an incoming transmission. She read the display, hit print out. "Here's our warrant."

"Warrant?" He reached for a truffle and popped it in his mouth. "For what?"

Eve shifted, gestured toward the console. "For that. Ready to work your magic?"

Feeney swallowed the truffle, looked toward the console. The light some would have called love gleamed in his eyes. "You want me to play with that? Hot damn."

He was up, almost bounding toward the equipment and ru

"It does. Feeney, it's serious."

"You're telling me." He lifted his hands, rubbing fingertips together like an old-world safe cracker about to hit the big time. "This baby is one serious mother. The design's inspired, the payload's off the scale. It's – "

"Very likely responsible for four deaths," Eve interrupted. She walked over to join him. "Let me bring you up to date."

Within twenty minutes, using the portable kit out of his car, Feeney was at work. Eve couldn't understand what he was muttering about, and he didn't take it kindly when she leaned over his shoulder.

That gave her time to pace, then to call in for a report on Jess's status. She had just finished ordering Peabody to turn duty over to a uniform guard and go home to get some sleep when Roarke came in.