Page 88 of Bonded in Death

Feeney scratched his fingers through his wiry explosion of hair. “Almost gave you a tug on it, but I had my teeth in it.”

Roarke studied the screen image of a man, tanned, a mane of waving sun-streaked hair, smiling green eyes.

“He looks quite happy, doesn’t he then? I suspect that’s about to change.”

“Fucking A.” She grabbed the ’link back. “Feeney, how about you contact Abernathy, the Interpol guy. He’s maybe in Manchester over there or likely on his way back. Pierce, well, we could waste time and resources getting him extradited, but Abernathy did me a solid on this one, and it’d be easy for him.”

“Wouldn’t mind a trip to Costa Rica, but the fucking paperwork. I’ll tag him.”

“I appreciate this, Feeney. He’s a link in the chain, and he may not see it that way, but he’s got blood on his hands.”

“Breaking a background like this guy set up?” Like a boxer after a long round, Feeney rolled his shoulders. “I need a challenge like that to keep me sharp.”

“Nobody sharper. Any progress on the driver’s face?”

“The boy’s working on it.”

“Could he use an assist from Roarke?”

“I’ll check in with him after I tag Interpol, see where we stand.”

“Okay. I’m going to be in Interview, so you could let Roarke know directly, either way.”

“Can do. I keep you up, you keep me up.”

“Affirmative.”

When she clicked off, she studied the screen. “He does look happy, and yeah, that’s about to change. If he knows anything about Potter, they’ll get it out of him. He won’t, unless Potter slipped up somewhere. Not impossible.”

“Unlikely,” Roarke said.

“Unlikely. One more thing. Fry’s Peppermint Cream.”

Roarke sent her an amused look. “You want some candy?”

“Who doesn’t? But no, Potter had—and probably has—a thing for them. Can you get them in New York?”

“Of course. And from any number of online venues. It’s a popular candy.”

“Delivery. Would he go for delivery? Have to think about it. Okay, break’s over.”

“Should I send up Cyril then? Iris had taken a short lie-down and was just up taking a walk when you asked for me.”

“He’s fine. We’ll take him, her, then round it out with Summerset.” She caught Roarke’s look. “Being with, talking with, his old unit may have triggered some other detail, something. Like candy, or Potter alwaysbeing clean-shaven. His strict fitness regimen, his wardrobe. He likes golf.”

“Which gives you different avenues to investigate.”

“You shouldn’t worry about him, too much.” Peabody spoke up. “It should help him knowing we’re pushing hard on this.”

“You’re right, of course. I’ll send Cyril up. Ah, my impression there? He’s taking it all a bit harder than the others.”

When Roarke left, Eve turned to Peabody. “Those other avenues.”

“High-end barber shops and salons.”

“Right. Fancy candy shops, country clubs, and those sports venues that offer indoor golf.”

“Upscale men’s shops,” Peabody continued. “Fitness centers.”

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