"Robb, J D - In Death 10 - Loyalty in Death (1)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robb J D)

Eve tapped her fingers. "Any reason I should bother reading this report?" she
asked and earned a grin.
"Detective Sally was talkative. I don't think he'd struggle if you wanted to
take the case. He pointed out that since the victim lived in New York, it's a
toss-up right now if he was killed here or on the other side of the river."
"I'm not taking the case, I'm just looking at it. You run Arlington?"
"Everything that popped is on side B of the disc."
"Fine. I'll skim through, then we'll head over to Branson's office."
Eve narrowed her eyes as a tall, gangly man in worn jeans and an ancient parka
hesitated at her doorway. Early twenties, she judged, with a look of such open
innocence in eyes of dreamy gray she could already hear the street thieves and
hustlers lining up to pluck his pockets clean.
He had the thin, bony face she associated with martyrs or scholars, and brown
hair worn in a smooth tail and liberally streaked from the sun.
His smile was slow and shy.
"Looking for someone?" Eve began. At the question, Peabody turned, gaped, then
let out what could only be called a squeal.
"Hey, Dee." His voice creaked, as if he used it rarely.
"Zeke! Oh wow, Zeke!" She took one vaulting leap and jumped into long, welcoming
arms.
The sight of Peabody in her ruthlessly pressed uniform with her regulation shoes
dangling inches off the floor while she giggled -- it was the only word to
describe the sound -- and pressed cheerful kisses onto the long face of the man
who held her had Eve slowly rising to her feet.
"What are you doing here?" Peabody demanded. "When did you get here? Oh, it's so
good to see you. How long can you stay?"
"Dee," was all he said, and hauled her up another inch to press his lips to her
cheek.
"Excuse me." Well aware how quickly tongues could wag in the unit, Eve stepped
forward. "Officer Peabody, I suggest you have this little reunion on your
personal time."
"Oh, sorry. Put me down, Zeke." But she kept an arm wrapped possessively around
him even when her feet hit the floor. "Lieutenant, this is Zeke."
"I got that far."
"My brother."
"Oh yeah?" Eve took another look, searching for family resemblance. There was
none -- not body type, not coloring, not in features. "Nice to meet you."
"Didn't mean to interrupt." Zeke flushed a little and held out a big hand.
"Dee's had lots of good things to say about you, Lieutenant."
"Glad to hear it." Eve found her hand lost inside one the consistency of granite
and as gentle as silk. "So which one are you?"
"Zeke's the baby," Peabody said with such adoration Eve had to grin.
"Some baby. What are you, about six-six?"
"And a quarter," he said with a shy smile.
"He takes after our father. They're both tall and skinny." Peabody gave her
brother a fierce squeeze. "Zeke's a wood artist. He builds the most beautiful
furniture and cabinets."
"Come on. Dee." The flush became a blush. "I'm just a carpenter. Handy with
tools, that's all."
"There's a lot of that going around lately," Eve murmured.