Immortal in Death (In Death #3)(85)

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.”

She jerked a shoulder and readjusted the goggles. It was imperative to find the humor again. She knew some cops got off peeking into bedroom windows, and misuse of the goggles was rampant on all levels. She considered them a tool, an important one, no matter how often their use was challenged in the courts.

“Looks like the finale,” she said blandly. “I have to appreciate their speed.”

Justin, levered on his elbows, plunged into her. With her feet planted firmly on the mattress, Jerry pumped her hips to meet him. Their faces shone with sweat, and tightly closed eyes added twin expressions of agony and delight. When he collapsed on her, Eve started to speak.

She held her tongue as Jerry’s arms came up, cuddled. Justin nuzzled Jerry’s neck. They held each other, stroking, cheek brushing cheek.

“I’ll be damned,” Eve muttered. “It’s not just sex. They care.”

More than the animal lust, the very human affection was difficult to watch. They separated briefly, sat up together with legs companionably tangled. He smoothed her tangled hair. She turned her face into the palm of his hand. They began to talk. From the expressions on their faces, the tone was serious, intense. At one point, Jerry lowered her head, weeping.

Justin kissed her hair, her brow, then got up and crossed the room. From a minifriggie, he took a slim glass bottle and poured a glass of dark blue liquid.

His face was grim as she snatched it from his hand, downed it in one quick gulp.

“Health drink, my ass. She’s using.”

“Just her,” Peabody put in. “He’s not having any.”

Justin drew Jerry from the bed and with an arm around her waist, led her out of the bedroom, out of vision.

“Keep scanning, Peabody,” Eve ordered. She tugged down the goggles so that they hung around her neck. “She’s on the edge about something. And I don’t think it’s over our little shoving match. The pressure’s gotten to her. Some people aren’t natural-born killers.”

“If they’re trying to distance themselves from each other, add more strength to their alibi, it was risky for her to come here tonight.”

Eve nodded as she looked at Roarke. “She needed him. Addictions come in all forms.” As her communicator signaled, Eve reached into her bag. “Dallas.”

“Rush, rush, rush.”

“Dickie, give me good news.”

“An interesting mix, Lieutenant. Other than a few additions to take it to liquid, add pretty color, and a mildly fruity taste, you’ve got yourself a match. All the elements from the powder previously analyzed are in there, including nectar from the Immortal Blossom. It is, however, a less potent mix, and when ingested by mouth — “

“That’s all I need. Transmit full report to my office unit, stat, copy Whitney, Casto, and the prosecutor.”

“Want me to tie a nice red bow around it, too?” he said sourly.

“Don’t be such a shit, Dickie. You’ll get your fifty-yard-line seats for arena ball.” She broke transmission, grinned. “Call for a search and confiscate warrant, Peabody. Let’s go take them down.”

“Yes, sir. Ah, Casto?”

“Tell him we’re coming around front. Illegals will get its share.”

It was five A. M. by the time they’d waded through the official paperwork and finished the first round of interviews. Fitzgerald’s lawyers had insisted on a six-hour break, minimum. With no choice but to comply, Eve ordered Peabody off duty until eight and swung by her own office.

“Didn’t I tell you to go get some sleep?” she asked when she saw Roarke kicked back at her desk.

“I had some work.”

Frowning, she glanced at the monitor on her desk unit. The intricate blueprints had her hissing. “This is police property. Tampering with police property can get you eighteen months under home security.”

“Would you hold off on the arrest? I’m nearly finished. East wing view, all levels.”

“I’m not kidding, Roarke. You can’t use my ‘link for personal business.”

“Hmm. Note to adjust recreational center C. Square footage insufficient. Transmit all memos and amended dimensions, CFD Architectural and Design, FreeStar One office. Save to disc, and disengage.” He slipped the disc out, tucked it into his pocket. “You were saying?”

“This unit is programmed for my voice print. Just how did you get it operational?”

He only smiled. “Really, Eve!”

“All right, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know, anyway. Couldn’t you have done this at home?”