Witness in Death

"Don't use that snotty tone on me, pal. I marked Level Five what, in my judgment, required Level Five. You don't need to know every goddamn thing."

Little spots of heat bloomed on Peabody's cheeks, but her voice was frosty. "So I am now aware, Lieutenant."

"I said knock it off."

"It's always your way, isn't it?"

"Yeah, damn right. I'm your superior, and I'm the primary on this investigation, so you bet your tight ass it's my way."

"Then you should have advised subject Monroe, Charles, to keep his mouth shut. Shouldn't you? Sir."

Eve set her teeth, ground them. Try to spare feelings, she thought, and you get kicked in the face. "Subject Monroe, Charles, has, in my opinion, no co

"It's my goddamn business when you interrogate him over my goddamn personal relationship with him."

"I didn't interrogate him." Her voice spiked with frustrated fury. "He spilled it all over me."

They were both standing now, leaning over the desk nearly nose-to-nose. Eve's face was pale with temper, Peabody's flushed with it.

When McNab walked in, the scene had him letting out a low, nervous whistle. "Um, hey, guys."

Neither of them bothered to so much as glance in his direction, and said, in unison, at a roar: "Out!"

"You bet. I'm gone."

To insure it, Eve marched over and slammed the door in his fearful and fascinated face.

"Sit down," she ordered Peabody.

"I prefer to stand."

"And I prefer to give you a good boot in the ass, but I'm restraining myself." Eve reached up, fisted her hands in her own hair and yanked until the pain cleared most of the rage.

"Okay, stand. You couldn't sit with that stick up your butt, anyway. One you shove up it every time Subject Monroe, Charles, is mentioned. You want to be filled in, you want to be briefed? Fine. Here it is."

She had to take another deep breath to insure her tone was professional. "On the evening of March twenty-six, at or about nineteen-thirty, I, accompanied by Roarke, had occasion to visit Areena Mansfield's penthouse suite at The Palace Hotel, this city. Upon entering said premises, investigation officer found subject Mansfield in the company of one Charles Monroe, licensed companion. It was ascertained and confirmed that LC Monroe was there in a professional capacity and had no links to the deceased or the current investigation. His presence, and the salient details pertaining to it, were noted in the report of the interview and marked Level Five in a stupid, ill-conceived attempt by the investigating officer to spare her fat-headed aide any u

Eve stomped back to her desk, snatched up her coffee, gulped some down. "Record that," she snapped.

Peabody's lip trembled. She sat. She sniffled.

"Oh, no." In genuine panic, Eve stabbed out a finger. "No, you don't. No crying. We're on duty. There is no crying on duty."

"I'm sorry." Knowing she was close to blubbering, Peabody fumbled for her handkerchief and blew her nose lavishly. "I'm just so mad, so embarrassed. He told you we've never had sex."

"Jesus, Peabody, do you think I put that in the report?"

"No. I don't know. No." She sniffled again. "But you know. I've been seeing him for weeks and weeks, and we've never… We never even got close to it."

"Well, he explained that when – " At Peabody's howl of horror, Eve winced. Wrong thing to say. Very wrong. But what the hell was the right thing? "Look, he's a nice guy. I didn't give him enough credit. He likes you."

"Then why hasn't he ever jumped me?" Peabody lifted drenched eyes.

"Um… sex isn't everything?" Eve hazarded.

"Oh sure, easy for you to say. You're married to the mongo sex god of the century."

"Jesus, Peabody."

"You are. He's gorgeous, he's built, he's smart and sexy and… and dangerous. And he loves you. No, he adores you. He'd jump in front of a speeding maxibus for you."

"They don't go very fast," Eve murmured and was relieved when Peabody gave a watery laugh.

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah." Eve glanced toward the co

Peabody crumpled her handkerchief and moped. "I've had too much respect, if you ask me. I know I'm not beautiful or anything."

"You look good."

"I'm not really sexy."

"Sure you are." At her wit's end, Eve came around the desk, patted Peabody's head.

"If you were a guy, or into same-sex relationships, would you want to have sex with me?"

"Absolutely. I'd jump you in a heartbeat."

"Really?" Brightening at the idea, Peabody wiped her eyes. "Well, McNab can't keep his hands off me."

"Oh man. Peabody, please."

"I don't want him to know. I don't want McNab to know that Charles and I haven't been hitting the sheets."

"He'll never hear it from me. I can guarantee it."

"Okay. Sorry, Dallas. After Charles told me, and I went back to work to take my mind off it, and found those sealed files… It kept me up most of the night. I mean, if he didn't say anything relevant, I couldn't figure out why you had two reports and a video disc sealed."

Eve blew out a breath. Interpersonal relationships were tough, she thought. And tricky. "One of the reports and the disc don't involve Charles." Damn it, Peabody was right about one thing, covering them up hampered the investigation. "They involve Nadine."

"Oh. I thought something was up there."

"Look, she had a thing with Draco years ago. She came to me about it. He used her, dumped her, in his usual pattern. When Roarke and I went through his penthouse, we found those personal discs. The one I sealed – "

"Oh. He recorded sex with Nadine. Scum." Peabody sighed. "She's not a suspect, at least not one we're looking at, so you wanted to spare her the embarrassment. Dallas, I'm sorry. All around sorry."

"Okay, let's forget it. Go wash your face or something so McNab doesn't think I've been slapping you around."

"Right. Boy, I feel like an idiot."

"Good, that bucks me right up. Now, go pull yourself together so I can pry McNab out of whatever corner he's hiding in, and we can get to work."

"Yes, sir."

By the time they were assembled in her office, Feeney had arrived. He'd reviewed the video of the play himself, had enlarged, re-focused, enhanced, and worked his e-magic so that the team was able to confirm the time frame of the switch.

The two courtroom scenes were side by side on a split screen, with Feeney in front, showing the minute difference in the shape of the knife, its angle of placement from one to the other.

"Whoever did the switch copped a knife that so closely resembled the dummy nobody would have noticed it without picking it up and giving it a good looking over."

"The prop master?" McNab asked.

"He'd have no reason to do more than check to see that the knife was still on its mark. The courtroom set stayed – what do you call it – dressed throughout the performance. He'd have noticed if the knife was missing," Feeney added. "According to his statement, he checked the set immediately after the scene change and immediately before it changed again. He had no reason to check otherwise."

"That gives the perpetrator approximately five minutes." Eve tapped her fingers on her mug. "However, we narrow that if we follow the line that Quim saw something or someone suspicious, as it appears he did during the scene break. Under three minutes to get the dummy knife hidden and be back wherever he needed to be. Onstage or in the wings."