Strangers in Death (In Death #26)(91)

To give herself a moment, she took off her coat, tossed it over with his. Then she sat, picked up the wine. Studied it. “You think it should be easy, that because we’re married it should be smooth for me to hit you up—”

“There it is again. How the hell is it hitting me up?”

“Christ.” Despite the fact that her head throbbed, she took a good slug of wine. “Because that’s how it would feel. Do you know how long it’s taken me to get used to living here—well, almost used to it—to feel, really, feel that it is my home? Not yours, not even ours, those were easier. But mine? Your money came down in the minus column for me. I fell for you in spite of it. If that makes me an idiot, too damn bad.”

“I came from nothing, and built this. I’ve pride in that, and so I understand yours. Your pride. I also know the money means little to nothing to you. So why then, can’t you take a bit of what means so little rather than running on empty when it’s so ridiculously unnecessary?”

Not so pissed now, she noted with some relief. Baffled, maybe even a little hurt, but no longer furious. “I didn’t think about it. I didn’t notice I was so light until I pulled out the ten. I’ve had other things on my mind besides…And all that’s true, but all that’s an evasion.”

She drank again to ease the tightness in her throat. “I can’t. I’m sorry, really, that it hurts or upsets you. I can’t hold out my hand to you, not for money. I just can’t. So it’s going to have to piss you off or insult you or whatever it does. I just can’t do it, Roarke.”

He picked up his glass again, said nothing for several moments as he sat, as he sipped. “You could if we were on more even ground, as you see it?”

“No. It’s not how much, it’s at all.”

He searched her face. “That’s hardheaded, short-sighted, and tight-assed. But, all right then.”

“All right then?” Flabbergasted, she gaped at him. “All right? That’s it?”

“Those may be three of your qualities that land in the minus column for me,” he said with a hint of a smile. “I fell for you despite them.” He pulled out his money clip, and that finger came up, silencing her as effectively as it had Summerset. He set fifty on the table between them. “You’ll do me a favor and take that as a loan so you don’t walk out of here with nothing but your hard head and tight ass in the morning. That’ll make sixty you owe me come payday, counting the previous ten.”

“Okay.” She took the fifty, stuffed it in her pocket. “Did we just compromise?”

“I believe we did.”

“Good.” She took another sip of wine, looked around. “So. This is a nice room.”

“It is, yes. It’s just been redecorated. Came out well, I think.”

“Get out. Really? When?”

“Just after the holidays.” He smiled fully now. “I believe I mentioned something to you about it, in case you wanted any input on the colors and fabrics and so on.”

“Oh. Yeah. I guess I remember something about that. You probably did better without me.”

“I never have, never will.”

She sighed, sunk into love with him. “Maybe we could have dinner in here tonight.”

“Is that another compromise?”

“I was thinking of it more like interest on the sixty.”

He laughed. “Well then, I charge high rates. You’ll have to get the meal to work that off.”

“No problem.” She stood up. “And in the spirit of compromise, it’s going to be pizza.” She looked around again. “Where the hell’s the AutoChef in here?”

They sat together on one of the curved settees, the mood mellow as they shared pizza and wine. And if the conversation turned to murder, it suited both of them.

“So Feeney’s got the pill dispenser thing. If I’d known he was going to dick around with it, I’d’ve brought it home and shoved it on you.”

“If it was played with, he’ll find out soon enough. In any case, even if it was, it wouldn’t prove she’d done it. He could have reprogrammed it himself. That wouldn’t work for you in court.”

“It’s another weight. Even small weights add up. It goes to opportunity. Conversely, she can’t prove he routinely took sleep aids, or ever took them, for that matter. There’s only her word he had sidepieces, brought them home. I spoke with three of his former romantic interests. Every one of them describes him as a shy sort of lover—sweet, not very adventurous. Gentle. Every one of them.”

“More weight, certainly, but Ava planted seeds that this was a relatively recent change.”

“A guy goes from sweet, shy, and gentle in bed to a raging perv who molests minors? She’s going to have a hard time convincing a jury there. And, her diddling with Charles is documented, while there isn’t any documentation Anders diddled. That’ll work against her instead of covering her ass like she planned. I’ve got Petrelli’s statement. It would’ve fit in nicely for me if Cassie Gordon’s had run parallel. I have to figure Ava saw she wasn’t going to be able to use Gordon, not that way. So there’s at least one more. The one she worked well enough to kill for her.”

“You have another candidate there?”