Portrait In Death

"She keeps changing her mind on the details," Peabody went on. "Jawline, nose, even skin tone. But he's bringing her around."

"I'd like to plant my boot up her ass," Eve commented. "That would bring her around."

Instead, she pulled out her communicator and tagged Baxter. She wasn't going to leave her men out on the street, twiddling their thumbs and waiting for Stevenson to show.

"Yo, baby" was Baxter's response.

"Yo, baby?"

"Just making sure you haven't forgotten me."

"I never forget irritants. I'm bringing in a couple of replacements. You and Trueheart take the club for a few hours."

"Ah, a cool libation would go down fine right now. Hear that, kid?"

"You and the kid stick to nonalcoholic libations." She considered how long they'd been on duty that day. "Give it an hour, just do a sweep. You want in if we locate this prick?"

"Damn straight."

"I'll let you know. If we don't pin him tonight, consider yourselves sprung at twenty-one hundred."

"Copy that. Come on, Trueheart, let's go raise a glass to our illustrious lieutenant." He winked at Eve. "By the way, hubby's on his way in."

"Hubby? Hubby who?"

"Ah, I think he means Roarke," Peabody said when Baxter clicked off on a bark of laughter. "Hubby-husband?"

"Oh, Christ." A

"I didn't send for you." She jabbed a finger at him the instant he stepped out.

"And my heart aches at the lack. I've got some data you wanted, Lieutenant, and preferred giving it to you face-to-face." He cocked his eyebrow, smiling down the hall at Peabody who hovered between apartments. "How's it going here?"

"Slow. What've you got?"

"Bits and pieces. A few parking facilities that, and this shocks me, run sidelines. Then it happens I had a chat with Stevenson's neurologist. I know, you didn't ask me to, specifically, but I took my own initiative." The smile flashed into a grin. "I'm banking on a raise."

"Yeah, you keep banking on that. What was the content of this chat?"

"I'm told the patient was an extraordinary woman. Brave, optimistic, a classy woman who was dealt a very bad hand. She was, as it happens, a health care worker herself. A nurse, at-"

"The East Side Health Center," Eve finished.

"There you are. Her son was completely devoted to her, and a bit more fanciful than optimistic. He simply refused to believe she would die, and when she did, took it very hard. He blamed the doctors, the health center, God, and whoever else was handy. Refused any and all grief counseling. The doctor was concerned the son might do something rash. Self-termination being top of his list."

"Too bad he wasn't right. He'll ID him?"

"He's willing, and anxious to cooperate."

She nodded, and pulled out her communicator. "I've got an Ident man in there with a neighbor who's neither willing nor anxious to cooperate. He'll get our image, but it's taking too long. I'm going to arrange to have another artist work with the doctor. Give me his name and location."

When she'd completed the arrangements, she started to pocket her communicator again. It beeped in her hand.

"Dallas."

"Lieutenant, your warrant's coming through."

About damn time, she thought, but bit back the words. "Thank you, sir. Officer Yancy is still working with the neighbor. I've called in replacements for Baxter and Trueheart, so the building's still covered, and ordered them to do an hour's surveillance at the data club before clocking out. Peabody and I will enter subject's apartment as soon as the warrant's in hand. Am I clear to call in the sweepers I have on alert?"

"Call them in, get it done. Let's put this away tonight."

"Nothing I'd like better," she agreed as she watched his face blink off.

"Darling." Roarke skimmed a hand down Eve's hair while Peabody pretended to look elsewhere. "You needed to get into an apartment, and you didn't call me?"

"Thought about it." She spoke under her breath, then turned to face him while she willed the warrant to come through. "I won't deny I thought about just going in. But it wouldn't wash clean, and it has to. I'm not giving this bastard any legal way out."

"You're right, of course. Your patience-"

He broke off as her communicator beeped again, signalling the authorization.

"Son of a bitch, bite myass!It's about fuckingtime!" She spun around and strode down the hall. "Peabody, we're going in."

"Perhaps patience wasn't precisely the right word," Roarke considered as he followed her.

She shot him one brief look, and considered. Argue with him, give in. Or make it her idea. "You're going in with us. Seal up." She tossed him a can of Seal-It and enjoyed the quick wince on his face as he studied it. "It'll come off your fancy shoes, Ace."

"But they'll never be quite the same. Ah well, being a good citizen requires some sacrifice."

"Like you don't have two hundred other pairs. He's got a good eye," she said to Peabody. "We can use him."

"Yes, sir. I often think of uses for your hubby." And because Roarke was between them, the safety factor, she gri

"That's really amusing, Peabody. I'll be chuckling when I tie your tongue into a knot later. Straighten up," she ordered. "Record on."

Behind her back, Roarke passed the Seal-It to Peabody and added a wink.

"Dallas, Lieutenant Eve, Peabody, Officer Delia, and civilian consultant Roarke are duly authorized with warrant, signed by Judge Marcia B. Brigstone to enter apartment 1208 of this location on full search and seizure. All pertinent data regarding this procedure are listed in said warrant. Sweeper unit is en route. Using police master to disengage locks and security."

She inserted it, keyed in her code. And the access was denied.

"Damn it. Subject has installed secondary security that repels standard master." Deliberately she turned away from the door so the record showed the apartment across the hall. And she looked coolly at Roarke. "It will be necessary to send for and utilize a battering ram in order to gain entrance and fulfill the authorization of the warrant."

Understanding, Roarke slipped behind her and taking a slim device from his pocket went to work on the locks.

"Officer," Eve began, noting that Peabody was watching Roarke with obvious fascination.

"Yes, sir, Lieutenant." But her eyes never left Roarke, and her mouth formed a silent "wow" as she watched his fingers move, and okay, wondered if they were just that skilled in other, more personal activities.

Imagining they were, she felt her heart give a quick, hard knock against her ribs.

"Officer!" Eve repeated. "We're going to try the master again momentarily. Contact Dispatch and request a unit with battering ram."

"Uh-huh. I mean, yes, sir."

"Perhaps you should try your master again, Lieutenant." Expression bland, Roarke stepped away from the door. "Before your aide fulfills that order. Sometimes these things jam a bit."

"Affirmative. Belay that order, Peabody. Retrying master."

He'd done whatever magic he could do, and this time her code had the security flashing to green.

"Locks are disengaged. Must've just been a jam," she said, turning to Peabody.

"Yes, sir." Peabody gave her a sober nod. "Happens all the time."

"Entering Stevenson apartment."

Though she believed it to be empty, she drew her weapon. "This is the police," she called out as she opened the door, swept the room. "We are duly authorized to enter. Stay where you are, with your hands above your head and in clear sight. Lights on."

Like the Fryburn apartment across the hall, it was spacious. It was clean, ruthlessly so, and appointed in such a way that made Eve think: female.

Color, texture, thriving, live plants, pretty dust-catchers set around. The windows were privacy screened, and through them she could see a new storm boiling in the dark sky.