"Robb, J D - In Death 08 - Midnight In Death" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robb J D)

She looked over at the small mountain of gifts under the tree -- gifts it
had taken her more than an hour to open. And her wince made him laugh.
"You know, one of the greatest rewards in giving you presents,
Lieutenant, is the baffled embarrassment they cause you."
"I hope you got it out of your system for a while."
"Mmm," was his only response. She wasn't used to gifts, he thought,
hadn't been given anything as a child but pain. "Have you decided what to do
with the last one?"
The final box he'd given her had been empty, and he'd enjoyed seeing her
frown in puzzlement. Just as he'd enjoyed seeing her grin at him when he told
her it was a day. A day she could fill with whatever she liked. He would take
her wherever she wanted to go, and they would do whatever she wanted to do. Off-
planet or on. In reality or through the holo-room.
Any time, any place, any world was hers for the asking.
"No, I haven't had much time to think it through. It's a pretty great
gift. I don't want to screw it up."
She let herself relax against him another moment with the fire crackling,
the tree shimmering, then she pulled back. "I've got to get started. There's a
lot of drone work on this one, and I don't want to tag Peabody today."
"Why don't I give you a hand?" He smiled again at the automatic refusal
he read in her eyes. "Step into Peabody's sturdy shoes for the day."
"This one's not connected to you in any way. I want to keep it that way."
"All the better." He nudged her up, got to his feet. "I can help you do
the runs or whatever, and that way you won't have to spend your entire Christmas
chained to your desk."
She started to refuse again, then reconsidered. Most of the data she
wanted were public domain in any case. And what wasn't was nothing she wouldn't
have shared with him if she'd been thinking it through aloud.

Besides, he was good.
"Okay, consider yourself a drone. But when Peabody's got her balance,
you're out."
"Darling." He took her hand, kissed it, watched her scowl. "Since you ask
so sweetly."
"And no sloppy stuff," she put in. "I'm on duty."
CHAPTER TWO
The huge cat, Galahad, was draped over the back of Eve's sleep chair like
a drunk over a bar at last call. Since he'd spent several hours the night before
attacking boxes, fighting with ribbon, and murdering discarded wrapping paper,
she left him where he was so he could sleep it off.
Eve set down her bag and went directly to the AutoChef for coffee. "The
guy we're after is David Palmer."
"You've already identified the killer."
"Oh, yeah, I know who I'm after. Me and Dave, we're old pals."
Roarke took the mug she brought him, watched her through the steam. "The
name's vaguely familiar to me."
"You'd have heard it. It was all over the media three, three and a half
years ago. I need all my case files on that investigation, all data on the
trial. You can start by -- " She broke off when he laid a hand on her arm.
"David Palmer -- serial killer. Torture murders." It was playing back for