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“Hell no.”
Eve nodded. “I don’t guess I would have either. I’d have been too pissed off. What did you say?”
“I said how we weren’t exclusive and I could see anybody I wanted, and so could he. Then, then, the bastard makes a date with some bimbo.”
Since that seemed perfectly reasonable, Eve dug deep for something supportive to say. “Pig.”
“I’m never speaking to him again.”
“You work together.”
“Okay, I’m never speaking to him again except in an official capacity. I hope he gets a suspicious rash on his gonads.”
“That’s a happy thought.”
They pondered it and ate more ice cream.
“Peabody.” Eve had a feeling she was going to hate this part of the whole support thing the most. “I’m not good at this relationship business.”
“How can you say that? You and Roarke are like, perfect.”
“No, nobody’s perfect. We’re making it work. Actually, he’s done most of the work on that, but I’m sort of catching up. He’s the only man I’ve ever had a real relationship with.”
Peabody’s eyes popped. “No kidding?”
Yep, Eve thought. Quicksand. “Okay, we’re not getting into all that, I’m just saying this isn’t my field. But if I stand back and look at this like a case, we’ve got three players. You, McNab, Charles.” She outlined a triangle with her spoon in what was left of her sundae. “You’re the connection, so each of the other point’s reaction to each other springs out of their relationship with you. McNab’s jealous.”
“Nuh-uh, he was just being a pig.”
“His classification as pig is verified. However. . . Peabody, you’re dating Charles, right?”
“Sort of.”
“You’re having sex with McNab.”
“Was.”
“McNab assumes you’re having sex with Charles.” She held up her finger before Peabody could speak. “It’s a wrong assumption, and it’s probably stupid of him not to just ask you what’s up. And even if you were sleeping with Charles you’re a free agent, but, this is his assumption. You.” She tapped the tip of her spoon on one point of the triangle. “Sex. Both guys. So there you are playing where’s the soy sausage in the closet, then you break it off with one guy to talk on the ’link with the other.”
“It was police business.”
“I bet you weren’t in full uniform, but regardless, McNab’s there, all hot and worked up and suddenly you’re talking to his competition. Knowing Charles, he didn’t stick to just giving you data. He flirted. So while you’re talking to Charles, McNab’s growing fangs. I’m not saying he’s not a moron. Obviously, he’s a moron. But, well, even moronic pigs have feelings. Probably.”
Peabody sat back. “You think it’s my fault.”
“No, I think it’s Roarke’s fault.” At Peabody’s blank look, Eve shook her head. “Never mind that. It’s not a fault thing. Look, you start a personal deal with a guy you work with, there’s going to be trouble. I don’t think he’s got any right to tell you who you can see or sleep with or whatever. But I don’t think it’s real smart to push his face in it either. I figure you both screwed up.”
Peabody considered. “But he screwed up more.”
“Absolutely.”
“Okay. Okay,” she repeated after a moment’s thought. “I guess you’re right about the triangle stuff and the reaction business. But, he’s the one who jumped right on some redhead, so if McNab thinks I’m going to get whacked out because he managed to talk some stupid female into going out with him, he’s more stupid than he looks.”
“That’s the spirit.”
“Thanks, Dallas. I feel a lot better.”
Eve stared into her empty dish, put a hand on her uneasy and overfull stomach. “Glad one of us does.”
