The In Death Collection, Books 1-5

by J. D. Robb

  “Fuck you.” Jerry dashed the contents of her glass in Eve’s face.

  “Thought that would do it,” Eve murmured as she blinked her stinging eyes. “That’s assaulting an officer. You’re under arrest.”

  “Take your hands off me.” Incensed, Jerry shoved Eve back.

  “Add resisting arrest. This must be my lucky night.” In two quick moves, Eve had Jerry’s arm twisted up and behind her back. “We’ll just call a uniform to take you in. It shouldn’t take you long to make bail. Now, behave so I can read you your rights on the way out.” She shot Roarke a sunny smile. “I won’t be long.”

  “Take your time, Lieutenant.” He plucked up Eve’s champagne and drank it himself. He gave her ten minutes, then wandered out of the ballroom.

  She was standing at the hotel entrance, watching Jerry being loaded into a cruiser.

  “What was that for?”

  “I needed to buy some time and some probable cause. The suspect showed violent tendencies and a nervous manner, indicative of drug use.”

  Cops, Roarke thought. “You pissed her off, Eve.”

  “That, too. She’ll be out almost before they get her in. I’ve got to move.”

  “Where?” he demanded as they hurried around the ballroom to the backstage area.

  “I need a sample of that stuff she likes to drink. The assault gives me clearance—if we bend things a little. I want it analyzed.”

  “You honestly think she’s using illegals that blatantly?”

  “I think people like her—like Pandora and Young and Redford—are incredibly arrogant. They’ve got money, looks, a certain amount of power and prestige. It makes them feel above the law.” She sent him a look as she slipped into Pandora’s dressing room. “You have the same tendencies.”

  “Thank you so much.”

  “Lucky for you, I came along to keep you on the straight and narrow. Watch the door, will you? If she’s got a quick lawyer, I’m not going to have time to finish this.”

  “The straight and narrow, naturally,” Roarke commented and stationed himself at the door as she searched the room.

  “Christ, there’s a fortune in cosmetic enhancements.”

  “It is her business, Lieutenant.”

  “Vanity’s costing her several hundred K a year, I’d say, just on the topicals. Christ knows what she spends in ingestives and sculpting. If I could just find a little of that nice powder.”

  “You’re looking for Immortality?” He let out a laugh. “She may be arrogant, but she doesn’t look stupid.”

  “Maybe you’re right.” She opened the door of a friggie and smiled. “But she’s got a container of that drink in here. A locked container.” Pursing her lips, Eve looked toward Roarke. “I don’t suppose you could . . .”

  “Veer from the straight and narrow.” He sighed, walked over, and studied the lock on the clear bottle. “Sophisticated. She’s not taking any chances with it. The bottle’s unbreakable from the look of it.” His fingers played over the lock mechanism as he spoke. “Find me a nail file, a hair clip, something like that, will you?”

  Eve pushed through the drawers. “Will this do?”

  Roarke frowned at the tiny pair of manicure scissors. “Close enough.” He jiggled the lock with the points, finessed, and stepped back. “There you are.”

  “You’re awfully good at that.”

  “Just a small, insignificant talent, Lieutenant.”

  “Right.” She dug in her bag, pulled out an evidence holder. She filled it with a couple of ounces. “That should be more than enough.”

  “Would you like me to relock it? It would only take a moment.”

  “Don’t bother. We can swing by the lab on the way.”

  “On the way to?”

  “To where I’ve got Peabody staked out. Justin Young’s back door.” She started out, flicking him a smile. “You know, Roarke, Jerry was right about one thing. I have pretty good taste in men.”

  “Darling, your taste is impeccable.”

  chapter seventeen

  Being hooked up with a rich man had a number of disadvantages in Eve’s mind, but it had one overwhelming plus. That was food. On the way back across town she managed to stuff herself to bursting with chicken Kiev from the fully stocked AutoChef in his car.

  “Nobody has chicken Kiev in their car unit,” she said with her mouth full.

  “They do if they run around with you. Otherwise you’d live off soy burgers and irradiated powdered eggs.”

  “I hate irradiated powdered eggs.”

  “Exactly.” It pleased him to hear her chuckle. “You’re in a rare old mood, Lieutenant.”

  “It’s coming together, Roarke. They’ll drop charges on Mavis by Monday morning, and by then I’ll have the bastards. It was all money,” she said and dabbed up grains of wild rice with her fingers. “Fucking money. Pandora was the connection to Immortality, and those three high flyers wanted their share.”

  “So they lured her to Leonardo’s and killed her.”

  “Leonardo’s was probably her idea. She wasn’t letting go there, and she was revved to fight. Gave them the perfect opportunity and setting. Mavis walking in was just icing. They’d have left Leonardo hanging by his balls, otherwise.”

  “Not to question your quick, agile, and suspicious mind, by why not just whack her in an alley? If you’re right, they’d done it before.”

  “So they wanted some staging this time.” She moved her shoulders. “Hetta Moppett was a potential loose end. One of them confronted her, likely questioned her, then got rid of her. Better not to chance whatever Boomer had let slip during sex.”

  “Then Boomer came next.”

  “He knew too much, had too much. It’s not likely he knew about all three of them. But he’d nailed at least one, and when he spotted that one in the club, he went underground. They managed to get him out, tortured him, killed him. But they didn’t have time to go back and get the stuff.”

  “All for profit?”

  “For profit, and if that analysis comes out the way I think it will, for Immortality. Pandora was on it, no question. My take is that whatever Pandora had or wanted, Jerry Fitzgerald wanted to have more. You’ve got a drug that makes you look good, younger, sexier. It could be worth a fortune to her professionally. Not to mention her ego.”

  “But it’s lethal.”

  “That’s what they say about smoking, but I’ve seen you light up some tobacco.” She arched a brow at him. “Unprotected sex was lethal during the latter half of the twentieth century. Didn’t stop people from fucking strangers. Guns are lethal, but we spent decades getting them off the street. Then—”

  “Point taken. Most of us think we’re going to live forever. Did you do testing on Redford?”

  “We did. He’s clean. Doesn’t mean his hands are any less bloody. I’m going to lock the three of them away for the next fifty years.”

  Roarke eased the car to a stop at a light, turned to look at her. “Eve, are you after them for murder, or for messing with the life of your friend?”

  “The results are the same.”

  “Your feelings aren’t.”

  “They hurt her,” she said tightly. “They put her through hell. Forced me to help them put her through it. She lost her job, and a lot of her confidence. They’re going to pay for that.”

  “All right. I only have one thing to say.”

  “I don’t need criticisms on procedure from a guy who pops locks like you, pal.”

  He took out a handkerchief, dabbed at her chin. “The next time you start to say you have no family,” he began quietly, “think again. Mavis is yours.”

  She started to speak, reevaluated. “I’m doing my job,” she decided. “If I get some personal pleasure out of it, what’s wrong with that?”

  “Not a thing.” He kissed her lightly, then turned left.

  “I want to go around the back of the building. Take a right at the next corner, then—”

  “I know how to get around
the back of that building.”

  “Don’t tell me you own that one, too.”

  “All right, I won’t tell you. And by the way, if you had asked me about the security setup at Young’s place, I could have saved you—or I should say Feeney—a little time and trouble.” When she huffed, he smiled. “If I get some personal pleasure out of owning large chunks of Manhattan, what’s wrong with that?”

  She turned to stare out of the window so he couldn’t see her smirk.

  For Roarke, it seemed, there would always be a table at the most exclusive restaurant, front row seats at the current hit play, and a convenient parking place on the street. He glided in and killed the engine.

  “You don’t, I trust, expect me to wait here.”

  “What I expect doesn’t usually hold water with you. Come on, but try to remember you’re a civilian. I’m not.”

  “That’s something I never forget.” He code locked the car. It was a good neighborhood, but the car was worth an easy six months’ rent in even the most exclusive of units in the building. “Darling, before we shift into the official mode, what do you have on under that dress?”

  “A device designed to drive men wild.”

  “It’s working. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen your butt move quite that way.”

  “It’s a cop’s butt now, ace, so watch it.”

  “I am.” He smiled, gave it a nice solid smack. “Believe me. Good evening, Peabody.”

  “Roarke.” Her face bland, as if she hadn’t heard a word, Peabody stepped out from the shrubbery. “Dallas.”

  “Any sign of—” Eve went into a defensive crouch as the shrubbery rustled, then swore as Casto came out grinning. “Goddamn it, Peabody.”

  “Now, don’t blame DeeDee. I was with her when your call came in. She wouldn’t have been able to shake me. Interdepartmental cooperation, Eve?” Still smiling, he extended a hand. “Roarke, a pleasure to meet you. Jake Casto, Illegals.”

  “So I gathered.” Roarke’s brow cocked as he noted Casto take in the black satin that slithered over Eve’s body. In the manner of men or unfriendly male dogs, Roarke showed his teeth.

  “Nice dress, Eve. You mentioned something about taking a sample to the lab.”

  “Do you always listen in on another cop’s transmissions?”

  “Well . . .” He stroked his chin. “The call came through at a particular moment, you see. I’d have had to be deaf not to catch it.” He sobered. “You figure you got Jerry Fitzgerald with a dose of Immortality?”

  “We’ll have to wait for the analysis.” She shifted her attention to Peabody. “Is Young in there?”

  “That’s confirmed. A check with security shows him coming in about nineteen hundred. He hasn’t been out since.”

  “Unless he took the back way.”

  “No, sir.” Peabody allowed herself a small smile. “I called his ’link when I arrived, and he answered. I apologized for the wrong contact.”

  “He’s seen you.”

  Peabody shook her head. “Men like that don’t remember underlings. He didn’t make me, and there’s been no movement in this area since my arrival at twenty-three thirty-eight.” She gestured over, up. “His lights are on.”

  “So we wait. Casto, you could make yourself useful and stake out the front entrance.”

  He flashed a grin. “Trying to get rid of me?”

  Her eyes lit in response. “Yep. We could get technical. As primary on the Moppett, Johannsen, Pandora, and Ro homicides, I have full authority on coordinating investigations. Therefore—”

  “You’re a tough woman, Eve.” He sighed, shrugged, sent Peabody a wink. “Keep a light burning for me, DeeDee.”

  “I’m sorry, Lieutenant,” Peabody began formally when Casto moved off. “He overheard the transmission. As there was no way to prevent him from coming to the scene on his own, it seemed more productive to enlist his aid.”

  “It doesn’t seem to be a problem.” When her communicator beeped, she shifted aside. “Dallas.” She listened a moment, lips curving, then nodded. “Thanks.” She started to slip the unit into her pocket, then remembered she didn’t have a pocket, and dropped it into her bag. “Fitzgerald’s sprung, own recognizance. Not surprising she’d get OR over a little tussle at a fashion party.”

  “If the lab results fall,” Peabody said.

  “If. We wait on that.” She glanced at Roarke. “This could be a long night. You don’t have to hang. Peabody and Casto can drop me when we’re done.”

  “I like long nights. A moment of your time, Lieutenant.” With a firm hand on her arm, Roarke led her a few paces away. “You didn’t mention you had an admirer in Illegals.”

  She ran a hand through her hair. “Didn’t I?”

  “The kind of admirer who’d like to nibble his way up your extremities.”

  “That’s an interesting way of putting it. Look, he and Peabody are an item at the moment.”

  “That doesn’t stop him from licking his chops over you.”

  She gave a quick snorting laugh, then catching the look in Roarke’s eye, she sobered and cleared her throat. “He’s harmless.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Come on, Roarke, it’s just one of those little testosterone games you guys play.” His eyes were still gleaming and caused something to jitter, not unpleasantly, in her stomach. “You’re not, like, jealous?”

  “Yes.” It was demeaning to admit it, but he was a man who did what had to be done.

  “Really?” The jittery feeling turned into a nice warm spread of pleasure. “Well, thanks.”

  There was no point in sighing. Certainly no point in giving her a quick shake. Instead, he dipped his hands in his pockets and inclined his head. “You’re welcome. Eve, we’re going to be married in a few days.”

  The jittering started again, big time. “Yeah.”

  “If he keeps looking at you like that, I’m going to have to hurt him.”

  She smiled, patted his cheek. “Down, boy.”

  Before she could do more than chuckle, he’d snagged her wrist, leaned in close. “You belong to me.” Her eyes fired, her teeth bared. The show of temper had him relaxing immediately. “It goes both ways, darling, but in case you haven’t noticed, it seems only fair to tell you, I’m very territorial over what’s mine.” He kissed her snarling mouth. “I do love you, Eve. Ridiculously.”

  “It’s ridiculous all right.” To settle her temper, she tried a long, slow breath. “Look, not that I figure you deserve any explanation, but I’m not interested in Casto, or anybody else. And, as it happens, Peabody’s gone over him. So just shut down your thrusters.”

  “Done. Now, would you like me to go back to the car and get some coffee?”

  She angled her head. “Is that a cheap bribe to smooth this over?”

  “I’ll remind you that my blend of coffee isn’t cheap.”

  “Peabody takes hers light. Hold it.” She grabbed his arm, tugged him back toward the bushes. “Wait for it,” Eve murmured as a car shot down the street. It squealed to a halt, did a fast vertical to squeeze into a top-level parking spot. Impatient maneuvering knocked bumpers. A woman in shimmering silver strode down the ramp to the sidewalk.

  “There’s our girl,” Eve said quietly. “She didn’t waste any time.”

  “You called it, Lieutenant,” Peabody commented.

  “Looks like. Now why would a woman who has recently gone through an uncomfortable, inconvenient, and potentially embarrassing situation, run straight to a man she’s just broken up with, accused of cheating, and who popped her in the face? All in public.”

  “Sadomasochistic tendencies?” Roarke suggested.

  “I don’t think so,” Eve said, appreciating him. “It’s S and M all right, but it stands for sex and money. And lookie here, Peabody, our heroine knows the back way in.”

  With one careless glance over her shoulder, Jerry headed straight for the maintenance entrance, keyed in a code, and disappeared inside.

 
“I’d say she’s done that before.” Roarke laid a hand on Eve’s shoulder. “Is that enough to break their alibi?”

  “It’s a damn good start.” Reaching in her bag, she took out surveillance goggles. She strapped them on, adjusting the power as she focused on Justin Young’s windows. “Can’t see him,” she murmured. “No one’s in the living area.” She shifted her head. “Bedroom’s empty, but there’s a flight bag open on the bed. A lot of doors closed. No way to get a view of the kitchen and rear entrance from here, damn it.”

  She put her hands on her hips and kept scanning. “There’s a glass of something on the table by the bed, and a light playing. I’d say his bedroom screen’s on. There she is now.”

  Eve’s lips stayed curved as she watched Jerry storm into the bedroom. The goggles were powerful enough to give her a clear close-up of undiluted fury. Jerry’s mouth was moving. She reached down, plucked off her shoes, heaved them.

  “Temper, temper,” Eve murmured. “She’s calling for him, throwing things. Enter the young hero, stage left. Well, I’ve got to say, he’s built.”

  With her own goggles in place, Peabody let out a low hum of agreement.

  Justin was buck naked, his skin beaded with water, his gilded hair sleeked with it. Apparently Jerry was unimpressed. She raged at him, shoved while he held up his hands, shook his head. The argument grew heated, dramatic, Eve mused, with lots of arm gestures, tossing heads. Then it changed tones abruptly. Justin was tearing off Jerry’s ten-thousand-dollar silver gown as they fell on the bed.

  “Aw, isn’t that sweet, Peabody? They’re making up.”

  Roarke tapped Eve’s shoulder. “I don’t suppose you have another pair of them.”

  “Pervert.” But since it seemed only fair, she tugged the goggles off, handed them to him. “You may be called as a witness.”

  “How? I’m not even here.” He slipped the goggles on, adjusted them. After a moment, he shook his head. “They’re not terribly imaginative, are they? Tell me, Lieutenant, do you spend much time watching fornication during surveillance?”

  “There’s nothing much a human being can do to another I haven’t watched.”

  Recognizing the tone, he slipped the goggles off, handed them back. “It’s a miserable job. I’d have to agree that murder suspects aren’t entitled to privacy.”