Memory in Death (In Death #22)(43)

"He's such a jerk. He's a total and complete ass**le. What am I doing cohabbing with that moron?"

"Don't ask me. Really," Eve said holding up a hand. "Don't ask me."

"Is it my fault we're in a budget crunch? It is not," Peabody announced and jabbed a finger in Eve's face. "Is it my fault his stupid family lives in stupid Scotland? I don't think so. And so what if we spent a couple of measly days with my family at Thanksgiving?" The snaking scarf flew and billowed when Peabody threw up her hands. "They have the sense to live in the United States of America, don't they? Don't they?"

"I don't know," Eve said cautiously as Peabody's eyes seemed to pin-wheel with passion. "There're a lot of them."

"Well, they do! And I just mention, just casually mention, that maybe we should stick around home for Christmas. You know, seeing as it's our first one as a couple—and maybe, considering his attitude, our last. Stupid f**khead. What are you looking at?" she demanded of a man who glanced her way as he walked by. "Yeah, keep walking. Dumbass man."

"The dumbass man is an innocent bystander. One of those dumbasses we're sworn to protect and serve."

"All men are dumbasses. Every mother's son. He said I was selfish! He said I wasn't willing to share. Well, bullshit. Doesn't he wear my earrings? Doesn't he—"

"If he wears anything else of yours, I really, really don't want to know about it. We're on the clock, Peabody."

"Well, I'm not selfish, and I'm not being stupid. And if it's so important to him to go roast his damn chestnuts in Scotland, then he can just go. Screw him. I don't know those people."

Tears swam now, and had Eve's stomach going on alert. "No, no, no. No. There's no crying on the job. No crying on the damn sidewalk in front of a crime scene."

"His parents, and his family. And his cousin Sheila. You know how he's always talking about her. I can't just go over there. I still have five pounds to lose, and I haven't finished doing this skin-care regimen that's supposed to shrink my pores—which are currently the circumference of moon craters. And by the time we pay for the flight, we'll be tapped for a month. We should stay home. Why can't we just stay home?"

"I don't know. I don't know. Maybe because you did the holiday thing with your half, and—"

"But he knew my parents. Didn't he?"

There were still tears threatening, Eve noted, but with the heat in those brown eyes, it was a wonder they didn't turn to steam.

"Didn't he meet my parents before that? He wasn't going in cold. Besides, my family's different."

She knew it was a mistake to ask, but the words just popped out of Eve's mouth. "How do you know?"

"Because they're my family. And it's not like I don't want to meet his. Eventually. But I have to go to a foreign country, and eat—I don't know—haggis or something. It's disgusting."

"Yeah, I bet the tofu surprise was a big winner over Thanksgiving."

Peabody's pinwheeling eyes went to lethal slits. "Whose side are you on?"

"Nobody's. I'm neutral. I'm—what is it—I'm Switzerland. Can we go to work now?"

"He slept on the couch," Peabody said in a trembling voice. "And he was gone when I got up this morning."

Eve heaved a huge sigh. "What time is his tour?"

"On at eight, same as me."

Eve pulled out her communicator, contacted EDD.

"Don't!" Now Peabody did the panic dance on the sidewalk. "I don't want him to know I'm worried about him."

"Shut up. Lieutenant Dallas, Sergeant. Has Detective McNab clocked in?" When she got an affirmative, she nodded. "Thanks, that's it." She clicked off. "There, he's on the job. Like we should be."

"Bastard." Tears dried up in eyes gone hard. Her mouth tightened to the width of a scalpel blade. "Just strolls right in to work."

"Jesus. Jesus Christ. My head. My head." Eve cradled it in her hands a moment. "Okay. I was going to do this later." She dug into her pocket, pulled out a small wrapped box. "Take it now."

"My Christmas present? That's nice. But I'm not really in the mood to—"

"Open the goddamn thing or I'll kill you where you stand."

"Sir! Opening it." She ripped the paper, stuffed it hurriedly in her pocket, and pulled off the lid. "It's a key code."

"That's right. It's to the ground transpo that'll be at the airport over in that foreign country. Air transpo's been arranged, for two, on one of Roarke's private shuttles. Round trip. Merry fricking Christmas. Do what you want with it."

"I—you—one of the shuttles? Free?" Peabody's cheeks went pink as a summer rose. "And—and—and—a vehicle when we get there? It's so... It's so seriously mag."

"Great. Can we go now?"

"Dallas!"

"No. No. No hugs. No hugs. No. Oh, shit," she muttered as Peabody threw her arms around her and squeezed. "We're on duty, we're in public. Let me go or I swear I'll kick your ass so hard that extra five pounds you're whining about will end up in Trenton."