Vengeance in Death

It had the effect, as she'd hoped, of snapping him back. "I'm perfectly fine. I was simply shocked for a moment."

"You knew her."

"Of course I knew her. She and Roarke were close for a time."

"And now she's dead." Eve's voice was flat, but her heart settled back into place as she sca

"If that's the case, Lieutenant, I believe I'd like to call my lawyer."

"Fine, great, you do that. Why not fuck it up all the way?'' She whirled away to stride around the room. "You listen to me. I'm going out on a limb here because you matter to him. The evidence against you is only circumstantial, but it's piling up. There'll be pressure from the media, which translates into pressure on the department. The PA's going to want to tag someone, and the pile's just big enough on you for orders to come down to hold you for questioning. It's not enough to book you, not yet."

She paused, frowning into middle distance. "But once the PA comes aboard, there's a very strong chance they'll pull me off. Either way, I figure we got another week, tops, to nail this down. After that, you're likely to be dealing with another cop."

Summerset considered, nodded. "Better the devil you know."

With a nod, Eve took out her recorder, set it on a table between them, then sat. "Let's do it, then."

"I bought a half bushel of apples, by the way." He very nearly smiled, making Eve blink in surprise. "We'll be having pie."

"Yum," she said.

Ninety minutes later, Eve carried her discs and a screaming headache up to her office. She nearly groaned when she spotted McNab lounging at her desk, his feet up, ankles crossed to show off flower-patterned socks.

"Make yourself at home, Detective." To accent the invitation, she gave his feet a hard shove.

"Sorry, Lieutenant. Just taking a little break."

"I'm up against the wall, McNab, which means your butt's right up there with mine. We don't have time for little breaks. Where's Peabody?"

"She's using one of the other rooms in this castle to run your latest victim, and performing other official acts. Tell me, is she really all regulation, or does some of it come off with her uniform?"

Eve walked over to the AutoChef, ordered coffee, hot and black. "Are you considering an attempt to divest Officer Peabody of her uniform, McNab?"

"No. No." He stood up so quickly the quartet of silver wands in his ear clanged together musically. "No," he said for a third time. "It was a matter of some curiosity. She's not my type."

"Then why don't we dispense with the inappropriate chatter, and get down to work?"

He rolled his eyes behind Eve's back. As far as he could tell, both female officers were ear high in regulations. "The equipment Roarke had sent over is beyond mag," he began. "It took some time to get it installed and programmed, but I've got it doing an auto search and trace on the incoming from this morning. Oh, nearly forgot, you had a couple of 'link transmissions come through while you were out."

Helpfully, he punched in Recall. "Nadine Furst, she wants a meet asap. And Mavis, no last name given. She says she'll be coming by tonight."

"Why, thank you for taking such an interest in my personal communications."

He let the sarcasm pass. "No problem. So this Mavis, she's a pal of yours, huh?"

"And she cohabitates with a guy who could break you into very small pieces one-handed."

"Well, scratch that. So, maybe I could get some lunch while I wait for -" He broke off when the trace unit began to send out high beeps. "Solid." He all but leaped behind the desk, tossed his flowing tail of hair over his shoulder, and began to whistle as paper spilled out of the machine. "Clever bastard, damn clever. Bounced the waves all over hell and back again twice. Zurich, Moscow, Des Moines for Christ's sake, Regis Six, Station Utopia, Birmingham. Gotta love it."

She'd seen that exact adoring gleam in Feeney's eyes and understood it to be a side effect of working in EDD. "I don't care where it was bounced to, McNab, where did it bounce from?"

"It's coming, it's coming. Even technology needs a patient hand. New York. Originates in New York. You called it, Lieutenant."

"Fine it down. Get me an address."

"Working on it." He flapped his hands behind him where Eve hovered. "Give me some room here, though I'd like to mention you smell terrific. Origin of traced transmission New York City, find zone."

Tracking… estimated time to complete, eight minutes, fifteen seconds.

"Begin. I could use a burger. Got any stocked?"

Eve struggled to find patience. "How do you want it?"

"Rare. A slice of provolone and plenty of mustard – poppy seed roll, pasta salad on the side, and a cup of that wicked coffee."

Eve drew a breath in, let a breath out. "What?" she said sweetly. "No dessert?"

"Now that you mention it, how about – "

"Lieutenant." Peabody hurried into the room. "I've got the data on the last victim."

"In the kitchen, Peabody, I'm fixing the detective his lunch."

The killing look Peabody aimed at McNab was answered with a cheeky grin.

"How much longer before Feeney gets back?" Peabody wanted to know.

"One hundred and two hours and twenty-three minutes. But who's counting the time?" Eve programmed the AutoChef for McNab's choices. "What have you got?"

"Victim departed Sha

"Fuck it."

"At four, the victim left the hotel. I haven't been able to track a cab company who picked her up. Got the name of the doorman who was on duty. He'll be back on in about an hour. The victim left the key to her room at the concierge station. She never picked it back up."

"Have them block off her room – no one goes in. Get a uniform to stand until we get over there."

"Already done."

Eve pulled McNab's lunch out. "Get yourself something to eat. It's going to be a long day."

Peabody sniffed at the burger. "Maybe McNab has taste in something. I'll have one of them. Want anything?"

"Later." Eve walked back into the office, dropped the plate on the desk. "Progress."

"Got the zone nailed, it's searching for sector. We're closing in." He hefted the burger one-handed, bit in heartily. "God love us," he managed over a full mouth. "From a real cow or I'm a Frenchman. Better than mother's milk. Want a bite?"

"I'll pass. McNab, aren't all those earrings heavy on the lobe? You keep adding them on, you're going to start walking on a slant."

"Fashion demands a heavy price. Here she comes. Zone five, yeah, yeah, sector A-B." With a hand studded with rings, he shoved his plate off the chart he had spread over the desk. "That puts us" – his limber fingers trailed over the chart, stopped – "just about here. Here," he said, raising his gaze to Eve. "Right about where I'm sitting eating this really remarkable cow burger."

"That's wrong."

"I'll run it again, but it's telling me the transmission originated in this house, or on the grounds. This place takes up this entire sector."

"Run it again," she ordered and turned away.

"Yes, sir."

"McNab, what's the error probability on that unit?"

He fiddled with the red ribbon he wore as a tie. "Less than one percent."

She pressed her lips together and turned back. "I want to know if you can bury this for a while. I don't want a report going into Central on this data until I can… until I pursue another avenue of the investigation. Are you able to comply with that?"