Page 157 of Passions in Death
“His sock drawer? Not very clever.”
“Well, it’s the top of one of those highboy things. He has his socks folded, in dividers, color coordinated. It’s a red box, so with the red socks. Do you do that with yours? The folding, coordinating thing? I don’t think I’ve ever been in your sock drawer.”
“Why would you? But you’re welcome to, as if I had anything to hide, I would be a great deal more clever. If I could postpone this meeting, I’d come down and watch you break him. Always an education.”
Gone, she noted, was the sad, broody, angry Roarke of the night before. He looked like busy, in-charge Roarke now.
“We will break him, and I appreciate the assist in getting him this far.”
“Anytime, Lieutenant. I’ll expect to be fully briefed when I see you at home.”
“Check it. Later.”
She clicked off, then gathered her things for Interview A.
She sat as if studiously studying the file when Peabody led him in.
The Giant’s Tear hung, flashing, outside her shirt.
“Record on. Have a seat, Greg. Dallas, Lieutenant Eve, and Peabody, Detective Delia, in Interview with Barney, Greg, in the matter of file number R/T-98721. Also of interest in this interview, file number H-7823.
“Mr. Barney, have you been read your rights?”
“You know very well I have.” He fussed with his tie. “You recited them to me yourself after deliberately humiliating me at work.”
“Well then, let’s get started.”
“I demand to know, right now, what I’m accused of. Just what are you deluded into believing I stole?”
“Why don’t I show you?”
After opening the evidence box, she removed the evidence bag with the red trinket box.
He went very still, and his face went from annoyed to a cold, hard mask.
“Where did you get that?”
“Where you put it. Your sock drawer—lots of fancy socks, Greg. Red box, red socks. Found it in about ten seconds.”
“And what gives you the right to go into my home, to paw through my personal belongings?”
“Peabody?”
“Why, that would be this warrant.”
“Duly executed,” Eve added. “This and what it contains are not your property, Greg. Hence, theft.”
“I knew this was a ridiculous mistake.” He huffed out a breath, leaned in a bit. “I gave what’s in that box to Shauna.”
“Gifts.”
“Yes, yes, gifts.”
“Are you aware that once you give a gift, it no longer belongs to you? Hence, I repeat, theft.”
“I took them for safekeeping. Shauna’s not been herself, as you should understand. She’s had a trauma, and isn’t thinking straight right now. She’s talking about selling most of her things, and since I know she values those gifts, has kept them for years, I didn’t want them to get somehow lost in the shuffle.”
“So you took them, without asking her. Hence, I’m forced to repeat, theft.”
