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“Oh. Not really.”
“It might be a place to start. A date, where you’d pick her up at her apartment at a time agreed upon, then take her to a place where food and entertainment are offered. While enjoying that food and/or entertainment, you might try having a conversation with her, one that doesn’t directly involve sex or work.”
“I know what a date is,” McNab grumbled, and felt put upon. “I haven’t got the credit base to take her places like that bastard Monroe.”
“Ah, therein lies one of the wonders of the female mind and heart.
Go with your strengths, take her places that appeal to her sense of adventure, romance, humor. Don’t compete with Monroe, Ian. Contrast with him. He gives her orchids grown in greenhouses on Flora I, you give her daisies you picked from the public field in Greenpeace Park.”
As the information, the idea of it, processed, McNab’s eyes cleared. Brightened. “Hey, that’s good. That could work. I guess I could try it. You’re really into this shit. Thanks.”
“My pleasure.” Roarke picked up his briefcase. “I’ve always been a gambling man, Ian, and one who likes to win. If I were to wager on your little triangle, I’d put my money on you.”
The idea pumped up McNab’s mood so high he forgot about the pie in the kitchen and got straight to work. He was having such a good time planning out his first date with Peabody, he nearly missed the data that scrolled on-screen.
“Holy shit!” He jumped back up on his boots, did a little dance, and grabbed his communicator.
“Dallas.”
“Hey, Lieutenant, hey. I think I’ve got something. Criminal charges, assault and a civil suit—bodily harm, property damage and blah blah, both filed by Richard Draco, June 2035. Charges were dropped, then sealed. Civil action settled to the tune of five million smackeroonies and sealed. Defendant in both cases was—”
“How did you access sealeds, McNab?”
He blinked, and his mind went blank. “How did I what?”
“Detective, how did you access sealed records without the proper authority or the orders of the primary investigation to obtain said authority?”
“I…”
“Where’s Roarke?”
Even on the small communicator screen he could see flames leap into her eyes. “Roarke?” Though he had a bad feeling it was already too late, McNab tried to shift his expression into innocence, confusion, and righteousness all at once. “I don’t know. I guess he’s working somewhere. Um…did you want him for something?”
“Has he been playing with you?”
“No, sir! Absolutely not. I’m on duty.”
Her eyes stared out from the communicator screen for a very long twenty seconds. He felt sweat begin to slip greasily down the center of his back.
“I…as to how I accessed data, Lieutenant, it occurred to me that, well, previous backgrounds had been negative, and your instincts, which I respect and admire and trust absolutely, indicated there should be something. So I took what you could call a shot in the dark. That’s it, a shot in the dark, and communicated our position to Judge Nettles, who agreed to issue the proper authority. I have the warrant.”
He picked it up, waved it. “It’s signed and everything.”
“I just bet it is. Is this going to spring back and bite my ass, McNab? Think carefully before you answer, because I promise you, if it bites mine, it’s going to have a chew fest on yours.”
“No, sir.” He hoped. “Everything’s in proper order.”
“I’m ten minutes away. Hold everything…in proper order. And McNab, if I see Roarke’s fingerprints anywhere, I’m going to wring your skinny neck.”
• • •
The first thing Eve did when she walked back into the house was hit the house scanner. “Where is Roarke?” she demanded.
Roarke is not currently on the premises. He is logged, at this time, at his midtown offices. Shall I direct a transmission for you, Darling Eve?
“No. Sneaky bastard.”
“It called you darling, sir. That’s so sweet.”
