Thankless in Death (30 page)

“Best I ever had, and I did it myself. She deserved what she got. It was self-defense,” he repeated, jabbing a finger on the table. “All of it. I had to look out for myself. It’s my right.”

“How was Ms. Farnsworth self-defense?” Eve wondered.

“She ruined my life. Screwed with my grades so it looked like I flunked, and I had to lose a whole summer making it up. My own friends made fun of me. I made her give me my life back, that’s all. Made her give me a new life. That’s fair.”

“You assaulted her, bound her with rope and tape, forced her to generate your new data and identification, credit cards, to transfer her funds, her property into accounts for you.”

“She
owed
me. They all owed me. They all thought I was nothing. I made them nothing. It’s fair,” he repeated. “I’ve got a right to look out for myself.”

Eve glanced at Peabody.

“Let me just make sure we get this all straight, Jerry,” Peabody said. “You killed your mother, your father, Lori Nuccio, and Ms. Edie Farnsworth, you abducted, assaulted, tortured, and planned to kill Joe Klein because they owed you—having played parts in ruining your life. So taking their lives was fair. Taking their money and their property was fair.”

“That’s right. That’s exactly right.” Pleased with the summation, he gave Peabody a sharp nod. “They all screwed with me, so I screwed with them bigger. Did you see my apartment? That’s who I am now. And I know damn well it’s going to turn out you’re wrong about the money. It’s mine. It’s in my name, my accounts. Possession’s more than half of something. I heard that somewhere. The money’s in my possession, so you’d better get me a damn good lawyer in here, now, or I’m going to sue your asses. It was self-defense, and I’m not going back in that cell. You can’t make me.”

He actually folded his arms over his chest, jutted out his chin. Like a kid making a dare.

“Oh, Jerry, Jerry, I can’t begin to tell you how happy I am to disabuse you.” Eve allowed herself a single happy sigh, and a big, wide smile. “How my heart actually sings with gratitude for this moment. You’re going down for murder, you asshole. One count second degree, three first degree, one of assault with intent, plus all the related charges. You’re not just going back in that cell, Jerry. You’re going to live the rest of your small, stupid, miserable life in a cage.”

“I will not! I’m not going to jail.”

She let him spring up, let him run for the door—and just shot her foot out to trip him. And yeah, there was a little heart singing when he did a sliding face plant.

“No, you’re not going to jail,” she agreed, stirring herself to slap restraints on him as he cried big, self-pitying tears and sobbed for his money. “It’s called prison. And I’m betting it’s going to be a nasty, bust-your-ass prison, off-planet, where they eat weaseling little cowards like you for lunch.”

“I’ll take him down to Booking,” Peabody said as she helped Eve haul Reinhold to his feet.

“Nah. We’re passing him off to a couple unlucky uniforms. We’re going to go have ourselves a nice turkey dinner.”

“Yay!”

Together, they dragged the limp, sobbing Reinhold out of the box, and into the rest of his life.

THERE WAS SOME PAPERWORK TO DEAL WITH, SOME CONT
acts to make—procedure was procedure—but Eve figured they pulled up at the house at a reasonable time.

She hadn’t screwed up Thanksgiving.

“Champagne,” Roarke decreed. “For both of you. Exceptional teamwork in Interview.”

“Champagne?” Peabody did a seat dance before climbing out. “Oh boy, oh boy!”

“It’s a good day,” Eve decided. And she could wait for the next to talk to Asshole Joe in the hospital.

She stepped into the house, into a wall of voices, music, into the scents of applewood burning, candles flickering, flowers, and food.

Into, she supposed, family.

They’d spread around the living room, and had broken out musical instruments. Some of them danced—including, she saw with considerable
shock, the huge Crack, the sex club owner—with his tattoos and feathers. The Irish white skin of the little girl he had on his hip glowed against his ebony.

Mavis’s little Bella clung to McNab’s hands and stomped her feet in a mimic of the step-dancing going on.

They called it a
ceili
, she remembered from her visit to the family farm in Clare. And she supposed they’d brought a little Irish to an American holiday.

It fit just fine.

Before she could evade—or even think to—one of them (uncle—no cousin) whizzed by, snatching her, swinging her into the whirl of it.

She managed a “No, uh-uh,” but he just plucked her off her feet, spun her in circles.

She laughed, then staggered a bit when he dropped her back down, and the music ended with riotous applause.

The noise didn’t end. A million questions and comments burst out, and made her think of a media conference.

“Easy now,” Sinead ordered. “You’re all smothering the lot of them. Ian tells us you got your man,” she added. “And all’s well with the world.”

“For now.”

“Now is good and fine enough. We’ve been entertaining ourselves as you see, until you were home again.”

“Don’t let that stop you.” She took the glass of champagne Roarke handed her. “That was quick.”

“It was already out and open.”

Nadine walked over, gave Eve a hard, completely unexpected hug. “I love them,” she murmured in Eve’s ear. “I love them all, and want to marry them.”

“How much have you had to drink?”

“Just the right amount. God, they’re so much fun! You’re a lucky woman, Dallas.”

“I’m feeling pretty lucky.”

“I’m having the best time.” Easing back, Nadine plucked up her glass of champagne, lifted it in toast. “And I’m getting an exclusive with you and Roarke together, on
Now
.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Oh, but I am.” Fun and affection danced in Nadine’s crafty green eyes. “I’m going to get you drunk enough to agree before we have the pie.”

“Good luck with that.”

“I’m feeling pretty lucky, too. Oh, Morris is going to play the sax. I want to marry him when he plays the sax.”

One of the uncles sang with the wrenching melody, and half the room shed tears. Eve thought they liked it.

Mavis bounced up to give her a squeeze, then Charles. Everybody seemed to need to hug.

“I got that name and contact for you,” Charles told her. “It turns out you didn’t need it.”

“I’m glad I didn’t.”

She started to step back. She really needed to take her weapon harness off, secure it upstairs. But she glanced down to see Sean and Nixie staring up at her.

“What?”

“You got the bad guy,” Sean stated.

“Yeah, we got him.”

“Did you zap him a good one first?”

Violent little bugger, she thought. She liked that about him. “No. I just knocked him down. Twice.”

“That’s something then.”

“He killed people,” Nixie said.

“That’s right.”

“Now he won’t anymore.”

“No, he won’t.”

She nodded, smiled. “I have your surprise.”

“Yeah? Hand it over.”

She ran to Elizabeth, got a slim rectangle wrapped in gold paper.

Gifts were always weird to her, so Eve ripped the paper off—like a bandage from a wound—to get it done fast. And looked down at a framed drawing of herself.

She stood, eyes hard, weapon drawn, coat billowing. A little reminiscent, she thought, of an illustration in one of Roarke’s classic graphic novels—and just as frosty.

“I drew it, but Richard helped.”

“A little,” he confirmed.

“A lot,” Nixie whispered.

“It’s great. It’s really great. I look kick-ass.”

Nixie giggled, slid her gaze toward her adoptive parents. “It’s an assignment. My therapist said for me to make a picture of the person I’m most thankful for this Thanksgiving. I thought about it a lot. Because I’m really thankful for Elizabeth and Richard and Kevin, but I wouldn’t have them to be thankful for except for you. I wrote an essay on the back. It’s part of the assignment, and the present.”

“Oh.” Eve turned it over, saw it was a two-sided frame. And as she skimmed the careful writing, felt her throat close.

“Would you read it?” Sinead asked, and looking up, Eve saw the movement had stopped, and everyone waited for her. “Would you read it to us, Eve?”

“I …”

“Why don’t I do that?” Understanding, Roarke took the frame.

“Well done, Nixie.” Roarke bent over to kiss her cheek. “Well done.”

“It’s good?” she asked Eve.

“It’s real good,” Eve managed. “I’m … ah. I’m going to put it in my office, at Central. And it’ll remind me to tell the truth and keep promises.”

“Really?”

“I said so, didn’t I?”

Nixie threw her arms around Eve’s waist, then ran over to Elizabeth. “She liked it.”

“Yes, she did.” Elizabeth sent Eve a watery smile, then pressed her face to Nixie’s hair.

“That was lovely, absolutely lovely.” Sinead got to her feet. “And a perfect way to lead us to our feast, I’m thinking. Let’s get a move on. With this lot of us, it’ll take an hour just to settle.”

“If I may?” Summerset offered Sinead his arm, gave Roarke the faintest nod before leading the horde out.

“I need a minute,” Eve murmured.

Roarke just drew her in, kissed the top of her head. “She’s a strong, graceful girl,” he said. “You helped her believe the world could be right again.”

“She lost everything, and look at her. She has heart and, yeah, grace and goddamn spine. Then you look at Reinhold. And you wonder why. You’ll never have the answer, but you wonder.”

Steadier, she drew back. “But Sinead’s right. Fine and good right now’s enough. You’d better grab onto that while you have it.”

“And we do.”

“We do. Let’s go eat ourselves sick.”

“I’m for it.”

She took a moment to walk over, set the frame, sketch side out on the mantel above the applewood fire, between the flickering candles.

“I do look kick-ass.”

“Darling Eve, you are kick-ass.”

“You’re not wrong.”

She took his hand, went with him to join the family, the friends, the feast. And was thankful for the now.

Don’t miss Eve and Roarke in their next case

Between the wall he’d opened and the one barely a foot behind it lay two bundles wrapped in thick plastic. But he could see, clearly enough, what they were. Roarke took his jacket from Nina’s limp fingers, drew his ‘link out of the pocket. ‘Eve,’ he said when her face came on screen. ‘It seems I’m in need of a cop
.’

There is nothing unusual about billionaire Roarke supervising work on his new property – but when he takes a ceremonial swing at the first wall to be knocked down, he uncovers the body of a girl. And then another – in fact, twelve dead girls concealed behind a false wall.

Luckily for Roarke, he is married to the best police lieutenant in town. Eve Dallas is determined to find the killer – especially when she discovers that the building used to be a sanctuary for deliquent teenagers and the parallel with her past as a young runaway hits hard.

As the girls’ identities are slowly unravelled by the department’s crack forensic team, Eve and her staunch sidekick Peabody get closer to the shocking truth …

Out February 2013