Witness in Death

"Oh. Pity."

He'd managed to peel the red dress off her again, and then it had been a simple matter of one thing leading to another. Now she was sprawled over him, all warm and loose.

But apparently, she didn't intend to stay that way.

"They all hated him." She scooted up to straddle him and gave Roarke a very pleasant view of slender torso and firm breasts. "Or at least actively disliked him. Maybe feared him," she considered. "Nobody in that cast is particularly sorry to see him dead. Several of the actors had worked with each other before. Had histories, links, co

"Murder on the Orient Express. "

"What's that? An Asian transpo system?"

"No, darling, it's yet another play by Dame Christie. She seems to be popping up. A man is murdered in his bed, in the sleeping car of a train. Stabbed. Repeatedly. Among the passengers is a very clever detective, not nearly as attractive as my cop," he added.

"What does a make-believe dead guy on a train have to do with my case?"

"Just enhancing your theory. In this fictional murder, there were a number of varied and seemingly unco

"Interesting. Who did it?"

"All of them." When her eyes narrowed, he sat up, wrapped his arms around her. "Each of them took a turn with the knife, plunging it into his unconscious body in return for the wrong he'd done to them."

"Pretty gruesome. And pretty cagey. No one could betray anyone else without betraying themselves. They back up each other's alibis. Play the role," she murmured.

"Very nearly a perfect murder."

"There are no perfect murders. There are always mistakes, with the murder itself the biggest of them."

"Spoken like a cop."

"I am a cop. And I'm going back to work."

She wiggled away, slid off the bed, and once again reached down for the dress.

"You put that red number back on, baby, I won't be responsible for my actions."

"Simmer down. I'm not strolling around naked. You never know where Summerset's skulking." She began pulling the dress up and glanced around the room. "I guess we should clean up some."

"Why?"

"Because it looks like we've – "

"Had a very enjoyable evening," Roarke finished. "This may shock you, but Summerset knows we have sex."

"Don't mention his name and sex in the same sentence. Gives me the creeps. I'm going to grab a shower, then work awhile."

"All right. I'll join you."

"Uh-uh. I'm not showering with you, ace. I know your games."

"I won't lay a hand on you."

He didn't say anything about his mouth.

"What do you do? Take a pill?"

Limber, refreshed, and utterly satisfied, Roarke buttoned his shirt. "You're stimulation enough."

"Apparently."

He took her hand, led her to the elevator, requested her office.

The cat was stretched across her sleep chair and gave a twitch of his tail when they walked in.

"Coffee?" Roarke asked.

"Yeah, thanks."

The minute he turned toward the kitchen, Galahad leaped down and bolted into the room ahead of him. Eve heard the single demanding meow.

She sat at her desk, stared at her computer, tapped her fingers.

"Computer, Draco case file. Cross-reference task. Find and list any and all co

Working…

"I assumed you ran that already."

She glanced over as Roarke came back with coffee. "I'm ru

"Computer, highlight any name with sealed files, all areas."

That information requires authorization. Please submit same…

"Would you like me to get around that little hitch for you?"

She made a low sound, a definite warning. Roarke merely shrugged and sipped his coffee.

"Authorization Code Yellow, slash Dallas, slash five-oh-six. Request from Dallas, Lieutenant Eve, regarding double homicide. You are authorized to flag sealeds."

Authorization correct. Sealeds will be flagged. Data contained in sealed files requires warrant, signed and dated, for access…

"Did I ask you to access the data? Just flag the damned sealeds."

Working… Multitask process will require approximately eight minutes, thirty seconds…

"Then get started. And no," she said to Roarke. "We're not opening the sealeds."

"My goodness, Lieutenant, I don't believe I suggested anything of the kind."

"You think you and McNab scammed me on that warrant today?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about." He eased a hip onto the desk. "I did give Ian some advice, but it was of a personal nature. Man talk."

"Yeah, right." She tipped back in her chair, eyed him over her coffee cup. "You and McNab sat around talking about women and sports."

"I don't believe we got to sports. He had a woman on his mind."

Eve's sneer vanished. "You talked to him about Peabody? Damn it, Roarke."

"I could hardly slap him back. He's so pitifully smitten."

"Oh." She winced. "Don't use that word."

"It fits. In fact, if he took my advice…" He turned his wrist, glanced at the unit fastened there. "They should be well into their first date by now."

"Date? Date? Why did you do that? Why did you go and do something like that? Couldn't you leave it alone? They'd have had sex until they burned out on it, and everything would go back to normal."

He angled his head. "That didn't work for us, did it?"

"We don't work together." Then, when his eyes brightened with pure amusement, she showed her teeth. "Officially. You start mixing cops and romance and case files and gooey looks at briefings, you've got nothing but a mess. Next thing you know, Peabody will be wearing lip dye and smelly girl stuff and dragging body skimmers under her uniform."

She dropped her head in her hands. "Then they'll have tiffs and misunderstandings that have nothing whatsoever to do with the job. They'll come at me from both sides, and before you know it, they'll be telling me things I absolutely do not want to know. And when they break it off and decide they hate each other down to the guts, I'll have to hear about that, too, and why they can't possibly work together, or breathe the same air, until I have no choice, absolutely no choice, but to kick both of their asses."

"Eve, your su

"And – " She poked him in the chest. "It's all your fault."

He grabbed her finger, nipped it, not so gently. "If that's the case, I'm going to insist they name their first child after me."

"Are you trying to make me crazy?"

"Well, darling, it's so easy, I find it difficult to resist. Why don't you put the entire matter out of your mind before it gives you a headache? Your data's coming up."

She shot him one fierce look, then turned to the screen.

Co

"Well, well, this didn't come up before. Michael Proctor's mother was an actress. She had a small part in a play. Twenty-four years ago." Eve sat back. "And just look who was onstage with her. Draco, Stiles, Mansfield, Rothchild. That correlates to the trouble between Draco and Stiles. Where's Anja Carvell?" she murmured.

"Perhaps she had, or has, a stage name."

"Maybe. No sealeds on Proctor's mother." She ordered the computer to do a run on one Natalie Brooks.