Innocent in Death (In Death #24)(39)

Telling herself to change the tone, she eased back. “Burgess in New Jersey was very cooperative.”

“I’m delighted to hear it.” He traced a fingertip down the slight dent in her chin. “Who is Burgess, and why is he being cooperative in New Jersey?”

“She. She manages your plant there, and got your memo.”

“My…ah. I sent one out to various holdings right after the first of the year. Came in handy today, did it?”

“Cut through the crap. Just FYI, I don’t really mind cutting through the crap myself, but thanks. You process castor beans.”

“I’m sure I do.”

“Ricin, the poison that killed Foster, comes from the mash after the beans are processed into oil.”

His eyes narrowed. “Is the plant connected?”

“So far, I can’t find a connection between anyone on my suspect list and the plant. Would’ve been nice and tidy. I don’t have a motive either, or not a clear one. It’s possible Foster saw, at some time, one of the other teachers diddling someone inappropriate during school hours. Murder’s a pretty harsh reaction to being caught with your pants down.”

“Perhaps Foster was blackmailing the diddler, or the diddlee.”

“No evidence of it, and it veers out of his characteristic orbit. I haven’t found a single person he wasn’t on good terms with, including the infamous diddler. Waiting for lab reports, and I’m taking a look at every member of the faculty, support staff, and administration. Along with parents of students. I got no buzz on this one, nothing that feels hot.”

“Why don’t I take a look at some of it. Fresh eyes, new view.”

“Couldn’t hurt.”

He’d forgotten to nag her to eat some dinner, she thought as he sat to look over her data. Slipped his mind, she decided. Probably for the best. She didn’t have much of an appetite.

When she slept, she slept in patches, and the patches were full of dreams. The dreams were conversations, mixed and jumbled from her arguments with Roarke, her interviews, her interlude with Percell. With the voices tangling inside her head, she awoke exhausted.

But he was there where he was in the mornings, drinking coffee in the sitting area of the bedroom, financials scrolling on the screen, the sound muted.

Eve dragged herself to the shower and tried to flood out the fatigue with the jets on full and hot.

When she came back into the bedroom, he’d switched to the morning news. She headed straight for the coffee.

“You didn’t rest well,” he said with a long look at her face.

“Case is bugging me.”

“Wish I could’ve been more help.”

She shrugged, carried the coffee to the closet. “Maybe something will loosen up today.”

“There’s a change of clothes in the bag there, for your spot tonight with Nadine.”

She frowned at the hanging bag. “Why do I need to change?”

“Consider it a precaution in the event you have a normal day and end up with blood on you, or tear your pants while tackling a suspect after a mad foot chase.”

“The way things are going, I’ll spend most of today buried in paperwork and getting nowhere.”

“In that unhappy event—no, not that jacket.”

“What’s wrong with it?” Though she scowled in irritation, a part of her was so happy with his comment—the normalcy of it—she wanted to grin like an idiot.

“It’s not particularly screen-friendly.”

“Neither am I.”

“True enough. However…” He rose, wandered to her closet.

“I don’t need you to pick out my clothes.”

“Oh, darling Eve, you so absolutely do.” He pulled out a jacket in bronze tones she swore she’d never seen before, paired it with deep brown trousers, a cream-colored turtleneck.

“Be wild and crazy,” he added as he draped the pieces over the back of the sofa. “Wear some earrings. Small gold hoops, perhaps.”

When she started to snarl, he caught her face in his hands and kissed her—long, slow, and deep. “I love that mouth,” he murmured, “especially when it’s about to be sarcastic. How do you feel about bacon and eggs?”

“More enthusiastic than I feel about small gold hoops hanging from my earlobes.”

But she found a pair, dressed, pleased that he’d poked at her about her clothes.

And just as she was about to sit down with him, as the cat leaped on the arm of the sofa to eye the bacon, Roarke’s pocket ’link beeped.

She knew the minute he pulled it out to check the display. “Take it,” Eve said, even as he started to slide the ’link back in his pocket. “I guess she’s an early riser.”

“I switched her to voice mail. Let’s eat before this gets cold.”

“Take it,” Eve repeated. “Peabody’ll be here any minute anyway. I’ll see you later.”

“Damn it, Eve.”

“Later,” she said again, and kept walking.

8

“NICE THREADS,” PEABODY COMMENTED, COMING in as Eve was coming down. “Roarke, right?”

“Who else? Since obviously if left to my own devices I’d commit such fashion felonies as would frighten small children and embarrass multitudes.”