Leverage in Death (In Death, #47)

by J.D. Robb

“They had mini berry pies and you went for liquid mystery meat?” “And veg.” Peabody choked down another swallow. “I told myself to be an adult, to think of loose pants. Is it gamey? There’s a little bit of gamey aftertaste. Gak.” “It could be rat. Liquefied, peppered rat.” Eve shoved her cup into Peabody’s hand. “It’s a hospital! Hospitals don’t serve rat.”

“If you knew a bomb was in the building, in the possession of or on the person of an individual under extreme duress, what would you do?” “I believe I’d be late for work,” Baxter answered.

“Did you follow up your rodent soup with any actual food?” he asked as they started out. “I was going to, but the goddamn Candy Thief found my stash.” “Only in your world does candy qualify as actual food.” “You eat it. It tastes good.”

“I wish you’d come. Win or lose, it’s a moment.” “I’ll watch on-screen. So … The Red Horse book. It’s good.” Eyes narrowed, suspiciously. “You finished it?” “Nearly, and it’s good. It’s—hell, what do I know—it’s maybe even better than the Icove book.” Now Nadine’s clever eyes closed a moment. “I wanted it to be. It matters what you think.” “It shouldn’t, but since it does, good work and all that.”

“How would you do it? If you were a sociopath, didn’t care about leaving a trail of bodies. How would you set this up? How long would it take? How much would you need?” He blew out a breath. “Well now, let’s sit by the fire.” “I want—” “A brandy’s what I want,” he decided, and strolled over to get one. “And we might as well be comfortable while I’m planning out a job without worrying about the death toll.” He grabbed her hand as he walked, tugged her over to the sofa.

“You may often have the cranks, but you are my clever girl. Jammed and scanned and opened.”

He stopped to study the finger painting she’d stuck on the friggie. “This is … interesting.” “Mavis brought Bella by my office and the kid gave me this, wanted me to put it up. Summerset said this is how it’s done.” “Ah. A bold use of color and texture. Perhaps she’s a budding student of the Pollock school.” “It’s the house.” Eve stepped up, tapped the painting. “And this is me, you, the cat, Summerset.” Roarke looked closer, then stepped back, trying distance. “You see that?” “You don’t?” Then with a laugh, she got the kibble. “The kid explained. Did you know Mavis is performing at the Oscar deal?”

When she woke in the morning, he sat drinking coffee, watching the financials with the cat stretched out beside him. She sat up. “It wasn’t a Spider-Man suit.” He glanced over. “Wasn’t it?” “It was black—but he has a black one, too, I guess. It’s confusing. But it had an R—for Roarke—instead of the spider deal. And you’re swinging over the damn city and climbing up buildings, and there was a big gust of wind. It scared the shit out of me. Don’t do that again.” “I’ll resist. Though you do have the most fascinating dreams.”

“The Markins live in the same building as the party hosts. We’ll kill two birds with one arrow and talk to the party people.” “And that’s sort of check four.” Peabody climbed into the car. “It’s stone. You kill the two birds with one stone.” “Have you ever tossed a rock at a bird?” “No!” Appalled in her Free-Ager’s heart, Peabody strapped in. “That’s just mean.” “And ineffective, I bet, since birds can fly. An arrow’s got to be quicker than heaving a rock that’s big enough to take out a couple of birds at a time.” “But still,” Peabody murmured.

“I…” Now she turned her head, stared at Eve. “I’m wearing Leonardo to the Oscars?” “Why do people say that? You’re not draping a big Leonardo all over you. Christ. Jesus Christ, if you cry the deal’s off.” The tears came anyway. “I have to. Just for a minute. I know it’d be like torture for you. But for me? It’s like this amazing dream. I’m not even going to say I wish you were coming because, torture. That’s how much this means to me.” “If it means so damn much, why didn’t you say so before?”

But Peabody put a hand on Eve’s arm. “I wanted to be a cop. I studied you, and I wanted to be a New York cop. A Dallas-worthy cop.” “For Christ’s sake.” “Just one minute, okay? When you pulled me into Homicide as your aide, that was the biggest moment of my life. I’ve had other big ones. McNab, making detective, helping take Oberman down. All the bad guys but her especially, because she’s the opposite of what we are. This doesn’t come up to those because they’re life-changing. But outside of life-changing, it’s the biggest. Thanks.”

They got out, started the walk toward the elevator. “I’ve got to do this one thing.” “If you try to kiss me,” Eve warned coldly, “I will mess you up.” “I’m not even going to threaten to kiss you, or kiss you in my head—that’s how much this means to me. But I have to—” In the garage, Peabody threw her arms in the air, tossed back her head, and screamed. The sound echoed, ping-ponged, and made Eve’s ears vibrate. “Okay. Whew.” Peabody huffed out another breath. “Now, head in the game.” “Every dog in this building is barking. Glass has shattered. Small children are hiding under their beds.” “Maybe.” Peabody pressed the call button. “But it had to come out so I could get my head in the game.”

“The first thing I’m going to say is I don’t know what you pay Rhoda, but she should get a big, fat bonus.” “Consider it done.”

“You’ll come back to it fresher if you take a couple minutes. Baxter, dispense some of the smooth charm and coffee for Rhoda. Hold the sexual prowess.” “Sometimes it just ekes out. How do you take your coffee, Remarkable Rhoda?” “Black, thanks. When you have real, why add to it?” “My kind of woman. You aren’t married, are you?”

“Baxter, do you know anybody in the IRS with some punch who’s not an asshole?” “I might know somebody.” “Tag him.” “Her.” “Of course her.

“Split it up, Cap?” Feeney grunted at Callendar. “Yeah, shit. I hate missing out on any of it, but that’s the way to do it. I’m going to have some boys head up, tag, and log all this and haul it to your lab. You take that, and my boy and I here will head to Central with the rest.” “Girl, Feeney. I keep telling you, I’m a freaking girl.” “Boy, girl, what’s the diff? “Boy, penis. Girl, vagina.” The tips of Feeney’s ears pinked. “Don’t start that. An e-man’s an e-man, whatever their works.” Feeney pulled out his comm, walking away with his pink-tipped ears to start it rolling. “I don’t mind being one of his boys,” Callendar told Roarke. “I just like to rag him, watch him get all hunchy.” She looked around the living area where they’d pulled out and set up all the electronics. “It’s a lot.” “Less fun if it’s easy.” “Straight up.” She offered her fist to bump. “Wonder if Dallas is having fun yet.”

Despite the gray sweatshirt, the tousled fluff of blond hair, and the lack of makeup, Reo had the appearance of a delicate Southern belle. Eve had reason to know that appearance masked—often strategically—a sharp mind and steely will. In court, Cher Reo could and did eviscerate a witness on cross without breaking a sweat.

“I checked on the kid, well, the whole family, but I wanted to make sure August was doing okay. He got on the ’link to thank me for taking him to his mom. And he said—I thought you’d like to know—a ninja woman saved him.” “‘Ninja woman.’” Eve let out a snorting laugh. It hurt her bruised chest a little, but it was worth it.

“Oh,” she managed. “God. I’m just … I wrote something in case—and I left it in my purse. So here goes.” “She’s crying a little,” Eve noted. Nadine was thanking the Academy, the cast, the crew, the director, her friends. “And talking really fast.” “She only has so much time.” “Now … We gave you a shout-out, Dallas and Roarke, on the red carpet. Here’s another. You’re the reason, both of you. But, Dallas, as much as you’re going to hate this—being Dallas—this is as much yours as mine. I’m putting it in my place, but it’s yours, too. I’m sharing this amazing award with the smartest, bravest, most dedicated cop and frustrating person I know. Thanks. Holy crap! Thanks!” “And that,” Roarke said, “is my very favorite acceptance speech in the history of them.”

The Icove Agenda took five Oscars, including best adapted screenplay, best director, best cinematography, best actress, and the big guns. Best picture. A little shell-shocked, Eve dragged herself into bed. “It’ll never end now. Never end.” On a laugh, Roarke snuggled her in, kissed the back of her neck. “There, there.”