Witness in Death

"It's been done. Overdone. I want the meat."

"Doesn't fly, Nadine. Roarke's name boosts ratings."

"Okay, consider it payback." She shrugged and hauled up her purse. "For the girl night."

"Okay." Eve reached into her back pocket, drew out a sealed disc. "Here."

"What's this?" But the minute it was in her hand, Nadine understood. Her fingers closed tightly around it. "It's the recording Richard did. Of me."

"It's been removed from the evidence log. It's the only copy. I figure it should close that circle."

As her throat filled with conflicting emotions, Nadine stared down at the disc. "Yes. Yes, it does. Better, it breaks it." Using both hands she snapped the disc in two.

Eve nodded with approval. "Some women wouldn't have been able to resist watching it. I figured you were smarter than that."

"I am now. Thanks, Dallas. I don't know how to – "

Eve took a deliberate step back. "Don't even think about kissing me."

With a shaky laugh, Nadine stuffed the broken disc in her bag. It would go into the first recyler she came across. "Okay, no sloppy stuff. But I owe you, Dallas."

"Damn right you do. So next time, save me a donut."

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

She slept for ten hours, pretty much where she had fallen after giving Roarke the briefest of updates. She woke, recharged, clearheaded, and alone.

Since he wasn't around to nag her, she had an ice cream bar for breakfast, washed it down with coffee while she watched the morning news reports on-screen. She caught a replay of her one-on-one with Nadine and, satisfied with it, considered herself set for the day.

She dressed, dragging on dung brown trousers and a white shirt that had narrow brown stripes. She had no idea how long the shirt had been there, but since Roarke had started filling her closet, she'd stopped paying attention.

He bought her a ridiculous amount of clothes, but it saved her from the torture of shopping.

Since it was there, and the weather promised to remain cool, she buttoned on a waist-length vest that appeared to go with the rest of the deal.

She strapped on her weapon, then she set off to find Roarke.

He was already in his office, the morning stock reports on one screen, off-planet trading on another, and what seemed to be a serious math problem on the third.

"How can you deal with numbers first thing in the morning?"

"I live for numbers." He tapped his keyboard, and the math problem shifted into tidy columns he had no doubt added up to the smallest decimal point. "And as it happens, I've been up for some time. You look rested," he said after a moment's study of her face. "And very well-tailored as well. You're a resilient creature, Eve."

"I slept like a slug." She came around the counter, leaned down, and kissed him. "You've been putting in some long days yourself." She patted his shoulder in a way that made his ante

He sent the figures on-screen to his broker for immediate application, then swiveled around in his chair. "What do you want?"

"Just some quiet time somewhere. You and me. We could take a long weekend."

"I repeat." He picked up his coffee, sipped. "What do you want?"

Irritation gleamed in her eyes. "Didn't I just say? Don't pull that crap on me again. You had to grovel the last time."

"I won't this time around. Do I look stupid?" he said in a conversational tone. "I'm not above a bribe, Lieutenant, but I like to know the deal. Why am I being softened up?"

"I couldn't soften you up with a vat of skin regenerator. Anyway, it's not a bribe. I'm a damn city official."

"And they are, as we know, complete strangers to bribes."

"Watch it, ace. Who says I can't want a break? If I want a favor, it doesn't have to co

"I see. Well then, here's what I'll bring to the table. I'll give you your favor, whatever it may be, in exchange for a week of your time anywhere I want to go."

"A week's out. I've got court dates, paperwork. Three days."

Negotiations, he thought, were his favorite hobby. "Five days now, five days next month."

"That's ten days, not a week. Even I can do the math on that. Three days now, two days next month."

"Four now, three next month."

"All right, all right." Her head was starting to spin. "I'll work it out."

"Then we have a deal." He offered his hand, clasped hers.

"So, are we going to the beach?"

"We can do that. The Olympus Resort has a stu

"Olympus." She blanched. "Off planet? I'm not going off planet. That's got to be a deal breaker."

"Deal's done. Buck up. Now, what's the favor?"

She sulked. It was a rare attitude for her, but she was damn good at it. "It's not even a big favor."

"You should've thought of that before you tried to scam me. You might have, if you'd had a decent breakfast instead of ice cream."

"How did you – " She broke off, and the single word was a vicious hiss. "Summerset."

"Now, when a woman asks her husband for a favor, it's a lovely touch if she sits on his lap." He patted his knee.

"You won't have much of a lap if I break both your legs." Seriously a

"Now, there you are." Enjoying himself, he lifted a hand, palm up. "If you'd presented it that way initially, put me in the position of being given a favor rather than giving one, you wouldn't have made what you consider a poor deal. And you wouldn't be cross."

"I'm not cross. You know I hate when you say I'm cross. And before I forget, what's the deal with this Authorization One shit?"

"Did you buy something?" He handed her the rest of his coffee. "I must make a celebrational note on my calendar. Eve Dallas went shopping. Strike up the band."

She scowled off into space. "I was in a pretty good mood before I came in here."

"See, you're cross. As to Authorization One, what sense does it make for you to pay for products manufactured by one of my companies?"

"Next time I'm going to a competitor. If I can find one." She huffed out a breath, brought herself back on track. "I'm going to close the case today. I've worked it how to smoke out the killer, get a confession. It's roundabout," she murmured. "I have reasons not to take the straight line. I had to do a tap dance for Whitney to clear it. If it doesn't work…" She trailed off.

"What do you need?"

"To start, I need your theater. And I need you to help me script and produce a little performance."

An hour later. Eve was on her way to Central, and Roarke was making the first phone call.

In her office, Eve loaded the disc recording of the play in her computer. With her mind elsewhere, she barely noted how smoothly the disc was accepted, how clear the audio and video. When she ordered it to fast-forward to the final scene, it did so without a single bump.

There they were, she thought. Draco as Vole blithely confessing to a murder he could no longer be charged with. His face handsome, smug, as he drew Carly's hand, Diana's hand, through his arm.

And she stood by him, pretty and charming, with a loving smile.

Ke

Areena, the beautiful and multi-faceted Christine, who had sacrificed everything, risked prison, to save the one she loved.

Michael Proctor, merely a shadow, watching from the wings, wondering when he would step into the spotlight and into the role of murderer.