“We’ve had a secret, passionate affair for the last three years, during which time I bore him a son who’s being raised on the far side of the moon by Buddhist monks.” Brows knit, Eve shook the box. “Get a grip, Mavis. It has to do with a case, and,” she added before Mavis could open her mouth, “it’s confidential.”
Mavis didn’t bother to roll her eyes again. When Eve said confidential, no amount of cajoling, pleading or whining could budge her an inch. “Okay, but you can tell me if he looks as good in person as he does in pictures.”
“Better,” Eve muttered.
“Jesus, really?” Mavis moaned and let herself fall onto the sofa. “I think I just had an orgasm.”
“You ought to know.” Eve set the package down, scowled at it. “And how did he know where I live? You can’t pluck a cop’s address out of the directory file. How did he know?” she repeated quietly. “And what’s he up to?”
“For God’s sake, Dallas, open it. He probably took a shine to you. Some men find the cool, disinterested, and understated attractive. Makes them think you’re deep. I bet it’s diamonds,” Mavis said, pouncing on the box as her patience snapped. “A necklace. A diamond necklace. Maybe rubies. You’d look sensational in rubies.”
She ripped ruthlessly through the pricey paper, tossed aside the lid of the box, and plunged her hand through the gold-edged tissue. “What the hell is this?”
But Eve had already scented it, already—despite herself—begun to smile. “It’s coffee,” she murmured, unaware of the way her voice softened as she reached for the simple brown bag Mavis held.
“Coffee.” Illusions shattered, Mavis stared. “The man’s got more money than God, and he sends you a bag of coffee?”
“Real coffee.”
“Oh, well then.” In disgust, Mavis waved a hand. “I don’t care what the damn stuff costs a pound, Dallas. A woman wants glitter.”
Eve brought the bag to her face and sniffed deep. “Not this woman. The son of a bitch knew just how to get to me.” She sighed. “In more ways than one.”
Eve treated herself to one precious cup the next morning. Even her temperamental AutoChef hadn’t been able to spoil the dark, rich flavor. She drove to the station, with her faulty heater, under sleeting skies, in a wild chill that came in just under five degrees, with a smile on her face.
It was still there when she walked into her office and found Feeney waiting for her.
“Well, well.” He studied her. “What’d you have for breakfast, ace?”
“Nothing but coffee. Just coffee. Got anything for me?”
“Ran a full check on Richard DeBlass, Elizabeth Barrister, and the rest of the clan.” He handed her a disc marked Code Five in bold red. “No real surprises. Nothing much out of the ordinary on Rockman, either. In his twenties, he belonged to a paramilitary group known as SafeNet.”
“SafeNet,” Eve repeated, brow wrinkling.
“You’d have been about eight when it was disbanded, kid,” Feeney told her with a smirk. “Should have heard of it in your history lessons.”
“Rings a distant bell. Was that one of the groups that got worked up when we had that skirmish with China?”
“It was, and if they’d had their way, it would have been a lot more than a skirmish. A disagreement over international space could have gotten ugly. But the diplomats managed to fight that war before they could. Few years later, they were disbanded, though there are rumors on and off about a faction of SafeNet going underground.”
“I’ve heard of them. Still hear about them. You think Rockman’s involved with a fanatic splinter group like that?”
It only took Feeney a moment to shake his head. “I think he watches his step. Power reflects power, and DeBlass has plenty. If he ever gets into the White House, Rockman would be right beside him.”
“Please.” Eve pressed a hand to her stomach. “You’ll give me nightmares.”
“It’s a long shot, but he’s got some backing for the next election.” Feeney moved his shoulders.
“Rockman’s alibied, anyway. By DeBlass. They were in East Washington.” She sat. “Anything else?”
“Charles Monroe. He’s had an interesting life, nothing shady that shows. I’m working on the victim’s logs. You know, sometimes if you’re careless in altering files, you leave shadows floating. Seems to me somebody just kills a woman could get careless.”
“You find a shadow, Feeney, clear away the gray, and I’ll buy you a case of that lousy whiskey you like.”
“Deal. I’m still working on Roarke,” he added. “There’s a guy who isn’t careless. Every time I think I’ve gotten over one wall of security, I hit another. Whatever data there is on him is well guarded.”
“Keep scaling those walls. I’ll try digging under them.”