Page 5 of Thankless in Death

“Your mama bought it for me, as a thank-you for last night.”

“It’s so she can see you coming from two blocks away and get gone.”

Before Jenkinson formed a witty repartee, Baxter walked in, slick in a dark chocolate suit, expertly knotted tie that picked up the color with minute checks of brown and muted red.

He stopped as if he’d hit a force field. “Jesus, my eyes!” He pulled out a pair of fashionable sunshades, slid them on as he studied Jenkinson. “What is that around your neck? Is it alive?”

“Your sister bought it for him.” Still quietly working at his comp, Trueheart didn’t even look up. “A token of her esteem.”

The kid was coming along, Eve thought, amused, and left her men to their byplay.

In her office with its single narrow window and miserably uncomfortable visitor’s chair, she aimed straight for the AutoChef. Thanks to the Roarke connection she didn’t have to settle for bad cop coffee. She programmed a cup, hot and black, settled with it at her desk, prepared to be righteous with paperwork.

Her communicator signaled before she’d taken the first sip.

“Dallas.”

Dispatch, Dallas, Lieutenant Eve. See the officer 735 Downing Street, Apartment 825. Two DBs, one male, one female.

“Dallas responding. Will contact and coordinate with Detective Peabody en route.”

Acknowledged. Dispatch out.

Well, shit, she thought, gulped down coffee—burned her tongue—she had jinxed it. And grabbing the coat she’d just taken off, she headed out.

Others had arrived in the bullpen, and Jenkinson’s tie remained the topic of the day. Peabody, still wearing her coat, added her opinion that the tie had jazz.

But then Peabody loved the neon-sporting McNab.

“Peabody, with me.”

“What? Where? Already?”

Eve just kept walking so Peabody had to trot after her in her pink cowgirl boots.

What was her department coming to, Eve wondered, with pink ties, pink boots. Maybe she should ban pink from Homicide.

“What did we catch?”

“Looks like a double.”

“A two-for-one start of the day.” As she waited for the elevator, Peabody took a scarf out of her pocket, looped it around her neck.

Pink and blue checks, Eve noted. She definitely had to work on the logistics of banning pink.

“It’s a totally gorgeous day, too,” Peabody continued, her square face wreathed with a smile, her dark eyes shining.

“Were you late because you grabbed morning sex?”

“I wasn’t late. Two minutes,” Peabody amended. “We got off the subway early to walk it. You won’t have many more days like this.”

They squeezed into the elevator with a boxful of cops. “I love fall when everything’s all crisp and breezy, and they’re roasting chestnuts on the carts.”

“Definitely had sex.”

Peabody only smiled. “We had a date night last night. Just on the spur, you know. We got dressed up, went dancing, and had grown-up cocktails. We get so busy we forget to do the ‘just you and me’ thing sometimes. It’s nice to remember.”

They corkscrewed out on the garage level.