Innocent in Death (12 page)

She pulled up her lab report, read off the contents of the go-cup. There was no real chocolate listed.

So the killer hadn’t known about Lissette’s secret recipe.

Considering, she rose and walked to her murder board. She studied her victim, the shots of the scene. Tapped her fingers on her thigh as she studied the thermos.

Nothing special about it, she decided. Just your average go-cup, jumbo size. About fifty bucks. Solid black, with the vic’s first name scripted in silver across the body. Looked new.

Used it every day, every working day for over a year. Why did it look brand-new?

Maybe it was new. She’d already speculated on that one, and now she was stepping over her own feet. Damn it.

“Faster,” she murmured. “Simpler. For fifty bucks, you could switch the good stuff with the bad in three seconds. You don’t have to pour out the original chocolate, pour in the killing drink. You just take the whole damn thing, shove the good in your briefcase or pack, leave the bad.”

Smarter, she thought. Not as messy.

She pulled out the sweeper’s report, already knowing she wouldn’t have missed such a vital listing if a second engraved thermos had been found in the building.

“Computer, run probabilities on the following options as pertains to case number HP-33091-D. Poison was added to vic’s go-cup on the morning of his death. Option next, vic’s go-cup was switched with an identical one containing the poison, again on the morning of his death. Which option has the highest probability?”

Acknowledged. Working…

Eve added more coffee to her mug, paced around the board. Sat back at her desk.

Probabilities on both options have no viable difference with current data…

“Big help.” And it would matter, she decided. It would matter just how.

With the absence of the real chocolate in the poisoned drink, the theory of the mix being tampered with inside the Foster apartment was out of the running.

Adding it on the spot was easier, more efficient. Still a risk factor involved.

But just replacing the whole shot, now that was smart, most efficient, most foolproof.

They’d do a more thorough search of the school the next day. But if she were to bet, she’d lay her money on the killer taking Craig’s cup as a souvenir. Or certainly disposing of it well off school grounds.

She called up the physical description of the cup, started a search for retailers in the city and online who sold that specific brand and model, with personalization option.

There were more than twenty retail stores in Manhattan alone offering that specific item, and three times that through online vendors.

But it was a break, she thought. Whether or not the cup itself played, she knew the drink had been made by the killer. Someone who didn’t know Lissette’s secret ingredient.

She was reaching for her coffee again when she saw Roarke in the doorway.

“Lieutenant.”

“Hey.”

They watched each other, warily, as he came into the room. “I’d hoped not to be this late.”

“Happens.”

Cross-referencing task complete. No matches found.

“Sometimes the world’s not as small as you want it to be,” she commented, and picked up her coffee.

“Long day for you.”

“Back at you.”

He sat on the corner of her desk, his gaze level with hers. “Are we at odds here, Eve?”

She hated,
hated
, that she just wanted to lay her head down on the desk and weep. “I don’t know what we are.”

He reached out, skimmed his fingertips over her hair. “You pushed some button on me this morning. Irritated the hell right out of me. Don’t you trust me, then?”

“Do you think I’d be sitting here if I didn’t?”

“That being the case, there should be no problem between us.”

“Nothing’s that simple.”

“I love you, absolutely. Nothing’s simple about it, but it’s complete. You never kissed me good-bye this morning.” He leaned down, brushed his lips over hers.

She couldn’t help it, the love simply welled up. “Bye,” she murmured, and made him smile.

He brushed her lips again, warm and sweet. “Hello. I’ll wager you haven’t had any dinner.”

“I’m spinning my wheels on this investigation. Haven’t thought much about food.”

“Think about it now.” He took her hand, linked their fingers, and used the other to scratch the cat when Galahad bumped his head against Roarke’s arm. “You’re looking tired, Lieutenant, and hollow-eyed the way you do when you haven’t eaten or gotten enough sleep. I’ll punch in burgers, that usually tempts you. And you can tell me about the case.”

He didn’t want to discuss the morning, she thought, or his meeting with Magdelana. He was nudging it all aside, very smoothly. But it had to be discussed. Had to be front and center.

“She came to my office.”

Nothing changed on his face, not by the smallest flicker. It was hardly a wonder he was lethal in business negotiations.

“Magdelana?”

“No, the Queen of the May.”

“A bit early for her. Does she work anything like the February groundhog?”

“Gee, that’s funny. But to get back to the topic. She came to see me at the end of shift. Thought we could have a nice, chatty drink, be pals. Guess what my answer was?”

He pushed off the desk. “I’m sorry if it upset you,” he said as he moved to a wall panel, opened it to take out a bottle of brandy. “She’s outgoing, impulsive. I imagine she was curious about you.”

“Is that what you imagine?” She felt the anger warring with something inside her, something she recognized as acute distress. “Even after you told her she wouldn’t like me.”

He glanced at Eve, poured the brandy, replaced the bottle. “No more than you would her. Very likely she intended to make the gesture and prove me wrong.”

Blind spot, Summerset had told her. “I think that was pretty low on her list of intentions. You’re going to work with her?”

This time irritation escaped control just long enough to show. “I’m not, no.”

“Then she’s a liar?”

“If she said I was, she misspoke, or you misconstrued.”

“Imisconstrued?”

“Christ Jesus.” He knocked back some brandy. “You’re trying to box me into a corner here, and there’s none to be had. We had a perfectly innocent lunch, at which time she asked for my help with some investments she wants to make. I agreed to give her some direction, and some names of people she might work with. It’s nothing I haven’t done for other people countless times before.”

“She’s not other people.”

“Bollocks to this.” And there was the temper, rich and ripe. “Did you expect I would say, ‘Sorry, can’t give you the names of a few money people as my wife doesn’t like the fact we shagged a dozen bloody years ago?’ This isn’t like you, Eve.”

“I can’t say, as I haven’t been in this position before.”

“What position, exactly?”

“Having a woman you have feelings for thrown in my face. Knowing she meant for me to feel exactly that.”

“As I’m not a bleeding droid I’ve had feelings for other women before I met you, and you’ve run into a few of them. As for Magdelana, why would she want to antagonize you?” he demanded. “She’d have nothing to gain. You’re overreacting, and making a situation out of something that happened years before I knew you existed. Do you need reassurance from me? Promises, pledges? After all we’ve come to be to each other?”

“How is it she’s made all the moves, and I’m in the wrong here? You don’t see her.”

“I see you. I see my wife twisting herself into a jealous knot over something long past.”

He set the brandy aside again, ordered himself to be calm. “Eve, I can’t go back and change what I was, what was done all those years ago. I wouldn’t if I could. Why would I? If I took a step then, it somehow brought me here. To you.”

That wasn’t the point, she thought. Or was it? But everything that wanted to come out of her mouth sounded, even in her head, like the whining of a needy woman. “Can you tell me she doesn’t want to pick up where you left off?”

“If she did, or does for that matter, she’ll be disappointed. Eve, you and I didn’t come to each other as children, or as innocents. If either of us wind ourselves up over relationships that came and went before our own, we’ll forever be in knots.”

“Excuse me?” She pushed to her feet. “You beat the hell out of Webster right in this room.”

“He had his hands on you, in our
home
. That’s bloody different.” The words lashed out, hot-tipped and razor sharp. “And never did I think you invited it, encouraged it, or would have tolerated it. You and I went round, Lieutenant, because you threatened to stun me. What in fucking hell do you want?”

“I guess to know what in fucking hell she wants. Is she planning a job? Does she want you—”

“If she is, it wasn’t mentioned to me. In fact, quite the opposite. And if she is, it would be no business of mine. Is that how you see me? So spineless that I’d slip back not only over the line, but into another woman’s bed?”

“No.”

“Whatever she might want, Eve, she’ll get no more from me than what I agreed to give. Some basic investment options. Should I have my admin write that up in the form of a contract for you?”

Her throat burned, the headache was back, and she’d accomplished nothing but pissing him off while putting Magdelana squarely between them. “I hate this. I hate feeling this way, acting this way. I hate that we’re standing here arguing about her. Putting her in the center of it.”

“Then stop.” He moved to her then. He laid his hands on her shoulders, ran them up and down her arms before drawing her against him. “If we’re to argue, at least let’s argue about something real. Not this. You’re not just the center of my world, Eve.” He kissed her brow, her temples, her lips. “You’re the whole of it.”

She flung her arms around him, held hard. He’d answered, she told herself. Put at away, put it aside. “It’s your fault I love you like this.” For a moment, she pressed her face to his shoulder. “That I’m stupid with it.”

“Of course it is.” He brushed a hand over her hair, laid his cheek against it. And felt his own insides relax again. “We’ll feel stupid together. Better now?”

Better, she thought. But it wasn’t over. She was afraid enough of what might happen next that she told herself, again, to let it go. Just let it go. “Good enough.”

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?”