Witness in Death

"That's a fascinating view on the male/female dynamic." One, Roarke was certain, would earn the boy a female knee to the balls if ever voiced in mixed company. "I take it Peabody isn't interested in pleasant lies."

"I don't know what she's interested in; that's the whole deal." Wound up now, he waved his arms. "I mean, she likes sex, she's into her work, she looks at Dallas like the lieutenant has the answers to the mysteries of the universe. Then she goes off with that goddamn Monroe son of a bitch to the opera."

It was the last, delivered with vitriol, that had Roarke nodding. "It's perfectly natural to be jealous of a rival."

"Rival, my ass. What the hell's wrong with her, going around with that slick LC? Fancy di

Roarke thought about it a moment and decided, under similar circumstances, he'd be tempted to do just that. "It would be satisfying, no doubt, but bound to a

"What do you mean? Like goofy stuff?"

Roarke sighed. "Let's try this. Have you ever asked her out?"

"Sure. We see each other a couple, three nights a week."

"Out, Ian. In public. In places where you're both required, by law, to wear clothes of some kind."

"Oh. Not really."

"It might be a place to start. A date, where you'd pick her up at her apartment at a time agreed upon, then take her to a place where food and entertainment are offered. While enjoying that food and/or entertainment, you might try having a conversation with her, one that doesn't directly involve sex or work."

"I know what a date is," McNab grumbled, and felt put upon. "I haven't got the credit base to take her places like that bastard Monroe."

"Ah, therein lies one of the wonders of the female mind and heart. Go with your strengths, take her places that appeal to her sense of adventure, romance, humor. Don't compete with Monroe, Ian. Contrast with him. He gives her orchids grown in greenhouses on Flora I, you give her daisies you picked from the public field in Greenpeace Park."

As the information, the idea of it, processed, McNab's eyes cleared. Brightened. "Hey, that's good. That could work. I guess I could try it. You're really into this shit. Thanks."

"My pleasure." Roarke picked up his briefcase. "I've always been a gambling man, Ian, and one who likes to win. If I were to wager on your little triangle, I'd put my money on you."

The idea pumped up McNab's mood so high he forgot about the pie in the kitchen and got straight to work. He was having such a good time pla

"Holy shit!" He jumped back up on his boots, did a little dance, and grabbed his communicator.

"Dallas."

"Hey, Lieutenant, hey. I think I've got something. Criminal charges, assault and a civil suit – bodily harm, property damage and blah blah, both filed by Richard Draco, June 2035. Charges were dropped, then sealed. Civil action settled to the tune of five million smackeroonies and sealed. Defendant in both cases was – "

"How did you access sealeds, McNab?"

He blinked, and his mind went blank. "How did I what?"

"Detective, how did you access sealed records without the proper authority or the orders of the primary investigation to obtain said authority?"

"I…"

"Where's Roarke?"

Even on the small communicator screen he could see flames leap into her eyes. "Roarke?" Though he had a bad feeling it was already too late, McNab tried to shift his expression into i

"Has he been playing with you?"

"No, sir! Absolutely not. I'm on duty."

Her eyes stared out from the communicator screen for a very long twenty seconds. He felt sweat begin to slip greasily down the center of his back.

"I… as to how I accessed data, Lieutenant, it occurred to me that, well, previous backgrounds had been negative, and your instincts, which I respect and admire and trust absolutely, indicated there should be something. So I took what you could call a shot in the dark. That's it, a shot in the dark, and communicated our position to Judge Nettles, who agreed to issue the proper authority. I have the warrant."

He picked it up, waved it. "It's signed and everything."

"I just bet it is. Is this going to spring back and bite my ass, McNab? Think carefully before you answer, because I promise you, if it bites mine, it's going to have a chew fest on yours."

"No, sir." He hoped. "Everything's in proper order."

"I'm ten minutes away. Hold everything… in proper order. And McNab, if I see Roarke's fingerprints anywhere, I'm going to wring your ski

The first thing Eve did when she walked back into the house was hit the house sca

Roarke is not currently on the premises. He is logged, at this time, at his midtown offices. Shall I direct a transmission for you, Darling Eve?

"No. Sneaky bastard."

"It called you darling, sir. That's so sweet."

"One of Roarke's little jokes. And if I hear it repeated, I'll have to kill you."

She headed up the stairs out of habit. Peabody sighed again, knowing there were numerous elevators that would be delighted to save them the climb.

When they walked into the office, she smirked at McNab on principle, but she did offer up a quick little prayer for his ski

He sprang to his feet, leading with the warrant. "All proper and official, sir."

Eve snatched it away, took a good, hard look. The tension in her shoulders unknotted muscle by muscle. She was dead sure Roarke was behind this sudden bounty of data, but the warrant would pass muster.

"Okay, McNab. You can live for the time being. Contact Feeney, put him on a conference-link and let's see what we've got."

What they had was twenty-four years old, but it was violent, petty, mean-spirited, and provocative.

"So the sophisticated Ke

"Really big time," Peabody put in. "He knocked out two teeth, busted his nose, bruised his ribs, and managed to break several articles of furniture before security got through the door and pulled him off."

"It says in the civil action that Draco was unable to work for three weeks, suffered emotional damage, extreme embarrassment, physical trauma, and, this is my personal favorite, loss of consortium. Both the criminal charges and the civil action were taken against Stiles in his birth name, Stipple, which he legally changed to his current stage name immediately after the suit was settled."

Eve turned the new data over in her mind. "He made a deal with Draco to take the payment and I'm banking it was more than the aforesaid five million smackeroonies to agree to having all of it sealed. The media didn't get hold of it, and that had to cost, too."

"Twenty-four years ago," Peabody pointed out. "Neither of them were major names. But from what we know of Draco, he'd have whined to the press unless it was worth his while not to."

"He could have spewed it out any time. Could have continued to hold it over Stiles's head. Bad for the image developed." Still she shook her head. "I can't see Stiles being overly worried about this coming out now. He's an established celebrity. He could spin it into a positive. 'Ah, my wild youth' or some such thing. It's why he broke Draco's balls that's the key."