The In Death Collection Books 21-25 - J. D. Robb [206]
“Was my tongue hanging out that far? I deserved the slap—I won’t say it wasn’t worth it, but I deserved it. McNab and I cleared the air, and straightened stuff out. He thought I was dumping him. Stupid idiot.”
It was said with such affection, almost sung, that Eve just dropped her head in her hands. “If you want to wiggle out of another kick in the ass, spare me the details.”
“Sorry. Coffee, sir, just the way you like it. Would you like me to get you something from vending? My treat.”
Eve lifted her head, slanted her eyes over toward Peabody. “Just how long were the two of you banging? No, no, I don’t want to know. Just get me whatever, then contact Nadine. Tell her I need a meet.”
“On that.”
As Peabody scooted out, Eve tried Roarke on his personal ’link. She dragged a hand through her hair as she was transferred to voice mail.
“Sorry to bump into your day. There are some complications. Get back to me when you get the chance.”
She shrugged her shoulders, hissed, then contacted the dreaded media liaison. With that duty done, she plugged in Peabody’s data disc, began the scan as her partner came back.
“I got you a Go Bar, tide you over. Nadine’s up for a meet—in fact, she said she had stuff to talk to you about, and wanted lunch.”
“Lunch? Why can’t she just come here?”
“She’s juiced about something, Dallas. Wants you to meet her at Scentsational, at noon.”
“Where?”
“Oh, it’s a real hot spot. She must be able to pull fat strings to get a reservation. I’ve got the address. She asked me to come, too, so . . .”
“Sure, sure. Why the hell not. Just us freaking girls.”
11
THOUGH THE SWEEPER’S REPORT ON HIDEY HOLE told her the locks and security had been tampered with, Eve went to the scene herself and met with the owner.
His name was Roy Chancey, and he was just as pissed to be hauled out of bed as he was with the break-in.
“Probably kids. Mostly is.” He scratched the paunch of his belly, yawned, and gave her a good whiff of breath that had yet to be refreshed.
“No, it wasn’t kids. Give me your whereabouts between seven and nine this morning.”
“In my Christing bed, where d’ya think? Don’t close ’til three. Time I get locked up and hit the sheets, it’s damn near four. I sleep days. Nothing out there but sun and traffic days anyway.”
“You live upstairs.”
“ ’S’right. Got a dance studio second floor, apartments on three and four.”
“Alone? You live alone, Chancey?”
“ ’S’right. Look, why’d I wanna break into my own place?”
“Good question. Do you know this woman?” She showed him Trudy’s ID photo.
She gave him credit for taking a good look. Cops and bartenders, Eve thought. They knew how to make people.
“Nope. She the one got pulled in here?”
“Nope. She’s the one got dead a couple days ago.”
“Hey, hey, hey!” His rheumy eyes finally showed some life. “Nobody got dead in my place. Some might mix it up a little now and then, but nobody gets dead.”
“How about this one? You know her?” She offered Zana’s ID.
“No. Jesus, she dead, too? What’s the deal?”
“What time does the dance studio open?”
“Like eight. Closed on Monday, though, thank Christ. Nothing but noise otherwise.”
He’s not in it,” Peabody said when they stepped outside.
“Nope.” On the street, Eve studied the building, the ground-level door, the exterior. “Easy enough to pick out. Locks were crappy, security crappier. Minimal skill required to get in.”
She scanned the pedestrian and street traffic. “Midlevel risk to get her in. Guy quick-walking with a woman, her head’s down. Who pays attention? She’d drummed up a little spine, makes some noise, resists, maybe she shakes him off.”
“Small-town girl, big city, dead mother-in-law.” Peabody shrugged. “Not surprising she went along, especially when he gave her that little stick.”
“Sloppy, though, whole thing’s sloppy. Stupid on top of sloppy. And you’re hitting for two million when, as far as you know, the well’s a hell of a lot deeper. Chump change.”
“You’re jaded.”
“Yeah, so?”
“No, I mean about money, if you can call two mil chump change.”
“I am not.” The insult