Page 52 of Fury In Death

“That’s part of the really loves you. I’d say it’s in those Marriage Rules. Cohab Rules, too. I worked to get here, sitting in this car with you, eating a grilled cheese, detective’s shield in my pocket. But all the rest? Sometimes it feels like it just happened. McNab, I really love him back. We work, just work. Now the house, that amazing place we helped make. Mavis, Leonardo, Bella.”

On a sigh, Peabody took another bite of melty-gooey.

“I miss my family, and I’m so happy I’m going to have some time with them, especially in my world, you know? But I’ve got family here, at the home we’ve made, on the job. It keeps me centered. When things get hard, when the job takes me places where it hits how awful people can be to other people, it keeps me centered.”

“What’s melty and gooey inside and out?”

“Ah . . . Mmm. Caramel sundae.”

“You’re a caramel sundae, Peabody.”

“Well, spinach is good for you, and can be tasty if you know what to do with it. But all in all? I’d rather go through life as a caramel sundae.

“And now, of course, I want one.” She chugged down some Diet Pepsi instead.

“Now that we’ve established your food group, when we get to Banner-Wyst, we push to meet with Wyst straight off. If we get the runaround, we hit on the acting director. Yes, what was Dent consulting with Chu on, but what were both of them working on thirteen years ago? It’s going to play.”

“Yeah, it is. If Dent got a payoff, Roarke will find it.”

Eve nodded. “Counting on it.”

It would be there, Eve thought as she drove. Dent’s longtime cohab knew Chu and his wife, but casually. The connection wasn’t a personal one between Dent and Chu.

But it was sure as hell personal for their killer.

When Eve pulled up to the gate at Banner-Wyst, a different security officer—big, beefy, male—approached.

“This is not a public parking facility,” he began, then looked at the badge Eve held up.

“Yeah, so?”

“So scan the badge and clear us through to Jacob Wyst.”

“Got a warrant?”

One of those, Eve thought. “We can certainly get one, Security Officer . . . ?”

“Mertz.”

“First name, please.”

“Henry.”

Eve glanced at Peabody.

“Running Security Officer Henry Mertz,” Peabody said with her hard-ass face on.

“However,” Eve continued, “I’m sure you’ve been apprised of Dr. Chu’s murder and the investigation thereof. If you would like to impede or obstruct said investigation, we can also secure a warrant for you. Or you could contact your superiors, get the green, and clear us through so we can do our jobs.”

“Oh, look here, Lieutenant, Security Officer Henry Mertz, age fifty-two, twice divorced, applied to the NYPSD. Rejected.”

“You don’t say?”

“He’s got a couple of bumps here for assault.”

“Ah, violent behavior. Where were you between twenty-one and twenty-three hundred hours last night?”

“Kiss my ass.”