Leverage in Death (In Death, #47)

by J.D. Robb

“It could be rat. Liquefied, peppered rat.” Eve shoved her cup into Peabody’s hand. “It’s a hospital! Hospitals don’t serve rat.” As she wound, Eve swung toward a recycler, stopped. Pointed. “Dispose of the rat soup.” “It’s not rat. I didn’t drink rat.” But Peabody fumbled the door open, juggling go-cups. She hotfooted it to the recycler, dumped the cups. She slid back into the car, downtrodden. “Can I get a diet fizzy from the AC?”

She programmed an alfalfa power smoothie, her latest hiding place for her candy stash. “Son of a bitch!” She pulled out an actual alfalfa power smoothie. “Son of candy-stealing bitch of a bastard!” Not only had the nefarious Candy Thief snatched her chocolate, he/ she had taken the time and trouble to replace it with the actual item on the freaking menu. She had to respect that. When she caught the son of a bitching bastard—and she would, oh, she would—she’d hang the thief out her window by the heels. Naked. But she’d do so with respect.

“Okay, good, but this? The damn book, the vid? I’ll be doing my job, and some wit, even a suspect says, Oh hey, I read the Icove book. I loved the vid, whatever, and it’s a weird pain in my ass. It wouldn’t surprise me one damn bit to be reading some fuckhead his rights and have him say: Man, that Icove vid rocked it out.” When he laughed, she scowled, ate more steak. “I’m serious.” “I know it.”

Bella leaned back, kissed Eve’s cheek. Earnestly she babbled, patting her hands on Eve’s face, then brushing them into Eve’s hair. She pulled one of the unicorns out of her curly mop, and with a kind of ferocious concentration, shoved it into Eve’s choppy hair. “Oh hey, I don’t—” “Pretty!” Bella beamed sunshine smiles. “Das pretty.” And kissed Eve again. “My Bellamina, that’s so sweet, and generous. She’s learning to share. It’s important to share.” Mavis

Blobs of color, splotches of more, covered it along with finger swirls and prints, dots, and shaky lines. She said, “Wow.” “Bella loves to paint. Finger painting’s her specialty. When I told her we were coming to see you today, she wanted to make you a painting.” “It’s great.” And rivaled, she thought, one of Jenkinson’s most eye-burning ties for impact. Bella crawled up into Eve’s lap, wiggled her butt down. She took Eve’s hand so they pointed together. “Das,” she said. “Ork. Somshit. Gah-ad.” She tapped, then moved up. “Das Ork how.”

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.”

Roarke studied the ID shot, sipped more coffee. Said, “Hmm.” “What?” Instantly, she swung around, eyes narrowed and focused. “What kind of hmm was that? That was a, you know, some kind of hmm.” “Obviously, I’ll need to guard my hmms in the future.” Eve drilled a finger into Roarke’s chest. “You know this guy?”

Then Peabody came in. She’d ditched the scarf and the pink coat. Eve almost preferred them to the screaming red sweater with fussy pink flounces at the cuffs, the shiny, electric-blue jacket, and, Jesus, neon-green pants with frigging pink flowers down the sides. “Peabody.” Baxter let out a half laugh. “You look like a garden.” “It’s almost spring! Coffee!” “None for you,” Eve snapped. “Aw!”

He stopped by Peabody’s chair, glanced at McNab as Peabody beamed, drumming her hands on the seat of her chair in a quick rhythm. “Departmentally authorized?” “Yes, sir,” McNab said. “Absolutely, sir. We put in a long night.” “Make sure she takes a half dose next time.” “It was the espresso chaser, Commander.” Whitney shook his head. “That would do it,”

“With me. Now. No ‘kiss bye,’ goddamn it.” Peabody trotted behind Eve. “I just feel so good! I can’t stop! My brain’s all full of colors!” “Your body’s covered in them. It makes my eyes throb. Get your coat and cover up the worst of it, then sit down and be quiet. I need to talk to the rest of the squad because people just keep killing people.” “That makes me sad.” “Go be sad and quiet at your desk.”