"Not this time. Peabody and her young brother? Ring a bell?"
"Oh hell." Dragging a hand through her hair, Eve paced in a circle. "I can't get out of that. I can't tell her the truth, and if I make some lame excuse, she'll pout. You can't work with her when she pouts."
She picked up her coffee, drank with a scowl on her face. "Are we like feeding them and everything?"
He laughed, adoring her. "Eve, you are the most gracious of hosts. Personally, I'm looking forward to meeting Peabody's brother. Free-Agers are so soothing."
"I'm not much in the mood for soothing." But she shrugged. "Well, they have to go home sometime."
"They certainly do. I'll be home in a couple of hours. That should give you time to fill me in."
"Okay, we'll play it that way. You ever hear of Aries Manufacturing?"
"No."
"Mount Olympus Enterprises?"
She had his interest now. "No. But Cassandra slides right in, doesn't she?"
"Looks that way. I'll be home when you get here," she told him and signed off.
She solved the first problem by sending Peabody back to Cop Central with the updated report and instructions to pass what they had on to Feeney and McNab.
With the idea of clearing her head before she worked on the rest of the problem, she headed downstairs. A quick workout, she decided, might jar something loose in her brain.
Summerset stood at the base of the stairs. He studied her baggy sweater and ancient trousers with a cool and derisive eye. "I trust you intend to change into something more appropriate before dinner this evening."
"I trust you'll continue to be an asshole for the rest of your life."
He drew air sharply through his nose, and because he knew she despised it, took her arm before she could swing by him. She bared her teeth. He smiled. "There is a messenger coming to the door with a package for you."
"A messenger." Though she yanked her arm free as a matter of principle, she shifted to stand be
tween Summerset and the door. Her hand moved automatically to rest on her weapon. "Did you scan?"
"Naturally." Puzzled, he lifted a brow. "It's a registered delivery service. The driver is a young female. The scan showed no weapons."
"Call the delivery service and verify," she ordered. "I'll take care of the door." She started forward, tossed a glance over her shoulder. "You scanned for explosives?"
He paled a little but nodded. "Of course. Gate security is very thorough. Roarke designed it himself."
"Call and verify," she repeated. "Do it from the back of the house."
Eyes grim, Summerset drew out his palm 'link but moved no farther than the parlor doorway. He'd be damned if he'd allow Eve to shield him as she'd done once before.
Eve watched the mini-scooter approach on the security monitor. The logo for Zippy Service was clearly printed on the fuel tank. The driver wore the standard bright red uniform, goggles, and cap. She flipped them up as she stopped the scooter, then stood gaping at the house.
She was young, Eve noted, her cheeks still pudgy with baby fat. Her eyes were wide and dazzled as she craned her head back to try to see the top of the house as she moved forward.
She tripped on the steps, then blushed as she looked around to see if anyone noticed. In one hand she carried a disc pouch. She used the other to hitch down her jacket, then ring the bell.
"The delivery is verified," Summerset said from behind Eve and nearly made her jolt.
"I told you to call from the back of the house."
"I don't take orders from you." He reached for the door, blocking her, then yelped in absolute shock when Eve stomped hard on his instep.
"Get back," she snapped. "Stupid son of a bitch." She muttered it as she yanked the door open. Before the delivery girl could give her standard greeting, Eve had dragged her inside, shoved her face first against the wall, and secured her hands behind her back.