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

"Why didn't you tell me you were coming to New York?" Peabody demanded.
"Wanted to surprise you. Didn't know for sure I'd come until a couple of days
ago."
He stroked a hand over her hair in a way that made Eve think of relationships
again. Some weren't about sex or power or control. Some were just about love.
"I got a commission to custom-build cabinets from these people who saw my work
back in Arizona."
"That's great. How long will it take?"
"Don't know till they're done."
"Okay, well, you'll stay at my place. I'll get you the key and tell you how to
get there. You'll take the subway." She gnawed her lip. "Don't go wandering
around, Zeke. It's not like home. Are you carrying your money and ID in your
back pocket, because -- "
"Peabody." Eve held up a finger for attention. "Take the rest of the day on
personal time, get your brother settled in."
"I don't want to be any trouble," Zeke began.
"You'll be more trouble if she's worried about you getting mugged six times
before you get to her apartment." Eve added a smile to soften it, though she'd
already decided the guy had M for mark all over his face. "Things are slow here,
anyway."
"The Cooke case."
"I think I can handle it solo," Eve said mildly. "Anything pops, I'll tag you.
Go show Zeke the wonders of New York."
"Thanks, Dallas." Peabody took her brother's hand, vowing that she'd make sure
he didn't see the seamier side of those wonders.
"Nice to've met you, Lieutenant."
"You, too." She watched them go off, Zeke bending his body slightly toward
Peabody as she bubbled with sisterly affection.
Families, Eve mused. They continued to baffle her. But it was nice to see that,
occasionally, they worked.
-=O=-***-=O=-
"Everyone loved J.C." Chris Tipple, Branson's executive assistant, was a man of
about thirty with hair approximately the same shade as the swollen red rims of
his eyes. Even now he wept unashamedly, tears trickling down his chubby,
pleasant face. "Everyone."
Which might have been the problem, Eve mused, and waited once again while Chris
scrubbed his cheeks with his crumpled handkerchief. "I'm sorry for your loss."
"It's just impossible to believe he won't come through that door." His breath
hitched as he stared at the closed door of the big, bright office suite. "Ever
again. Everyone's in shock. When B. D. made the announcement this morning, no
one could speak."
He pressed the handkerchief to his mouth as if his voice had failed him again.
B. Donald Branson, the victim's brother and partner, Eve knew, and waited for
Chris to finish.
"You want some water, Chris? A soother?"
"I've taken a soother. It doesn't seem to help. We were very close." Mopping his
streaming eyes, Chris didn't notice Eve's look of consideration. "You had a
personal relationship?"
"Oh yes. I'd been with J. C. for nearly eight years. He was much more than my
employer. He was ... he was like a father to me. Pardon me."