Chapter Six

She heard delicate steps coming toward her office.  No one she knew.  Why wasn’t one of her men cutting the woman off?  And where was Peabody?  She should be stopping the approaching woman like a good door dragon.  Maybe it was those fuckwits Borge and Culper dressed up in skirts and heels and coming to turn their selves in with full confessions.  Eve sighed, straightened her shoulders, and turned.  Caro, Roarke’s admin and right hand, was framed in the doorway of her office.  Eve was boggling when it hit her.  Then a wave of blackness came toward her, swamped her.  “Roarke,” Eve breathed.
“No!”  Caro actually leaped forward, grabbing onto Eve’s shoulders as her face ashened.  “It’s not that, Lieutenant!”  She shook her, a quick hard movement.  “Roarke’s fine.”  Caro locked her eyes grimly onto Eve’s, holding them until the glazed look receded.
Eve took a deep breath, then another.  Caro had light blue eyes.  A good life line.  There were little flecks of greens and golds in them.  Steady, she told herself.  Steady out, Dallas.  “He’s fine?”  She sounded like a frog, croaky.
“Yes, Lieutenant.  You know he can’t contact me, but there’s a communication pattern that comes through every two hours that alerts me that he’s fine.  It runs … never mind.” Caro shook her head as she saw the confusion coming over Eve’s face.  “I’m sorry, Lieutenant.  I didn’t mean to frighten you by showing up this way,” Caro apologized.
Eve got herself under control.  “Of course you didn’t.  What brings you to Cop Central, Caro?”  She nodded toward her single visitor’s chair.  Caro probably weighed around one thirty.  It should hold her.
Caro settled herself nearly as elegantly as Dr. Mira, the NYPSD’s top profiler, and the most elegant woman Eve had ever met.  “I wanted to congratulate you on your performance at the charity auction.  It was an impressive success.”
Eve waited. When nothing more was forthcoming, she blinked.  “Glad I could help.  And?”  She held up a hand as Peabody came to the door, a filled napkin in her hand.
“Hello, Caro.  Nice suit.  Dallas, I got you a cinnamon bagel and a donut for later.”  Peabody casually placed the offerings on Eve’s desk.  She raised her eyebrows in question.
“Hold a minute.  And?” she repeated.
Caro fussed with her hair for a minute.  Looked around Eve’s office.  Eve waited her out.  Finally, the older woman looked back at her and sighed.  “I need you to make some decisions on an issue while Roarke’s away.  They can’t be put off any longer.”
“No.”  That was simple.
“But –“
“No.  Call Summerset if you need something done with Roarke’s business.”  That was easy.
“Lieutenant.  Eve.  Roarke would want you to make these decisions.”  Caro remained seated.
Eve looked at her partner.  “Peabody.  Would you like to make some Roarke Industries decisions?”
“No, Sir.”  Peabody shifted uneasily, gave Caro a sympathetic glance.
Caro’s expression hardened.  “Since Roarke is always assisting you, and in fact gives you a great deal of his time, Lieutenant.  I feel you could give him five minutes now.”
Well.  That trapped her, Eve thought.  She saw Peabody’s smirk.  Gave her a glare.  “Fine.  Five minutes.”
“The workers at Roarke’s coffee plantation are threatening to strike.”
Eve sat down.  “Why?”
“They feel their wages … they want a raise,” Caro massively simplified.
“And this can’t be run by Summerset?”  Eve’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.  “Or put off until Roarke can communicate with us?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“It’s a serious problem?  I mean serious, Caro?”  Eve gave her a hard stare.  She couldn’t really believe something that wasn’t life or death was serious, but Eve could and would believe that Roarke and Caro, and Summerset, thought so.
“It is, Lieutenant.  Decisions need to be made so negotiations can be started.  Otherwise the coffee beans will be held hostage.”  Caro winced at her weak effort at a joke.
Hostage!  Eve’s mind latched onto that thought.  She could deal with this.  “Where is this plantation?  Do I need to go there and talk to people or can it be holo’d?”
“Holo would be fine.  It’s in Brazil.”
“Wait here.  Have some coffee or something.  Peabody, start on the list of cell mates.”  Eve darted out of her office.  She damn well wasn’t making any business decisions for Roarke.  And she doubted he would expect her to, no matter what Caro thought.  But she had the resources she needed to dump the problem on.
Alexi Peterson Smyth Summers was the Academy’s hostage negotiation trainer.  In her eightieth year, she’d retired.  But Eve had run into her just last week while interviewing a witness at the Hadley Arms Apartments.  And Alexi had told Eve to call her if she ever needed anything; shared retirement had left her bored and aimless.  Swinging into an empty observation room, Eve tagged her.  Within thirty minutes, she’d gotten what she needed.
Back in her office, Eve handed Caro Alexi’s name and link numbers.  “Here’s my representative.”  Caro’s eyes bugged out as Eve handed her the power of attorney papers authorizing a complete stranger to be Eve’s stand in for any and all coffee negotiations.  It actually said coffee negotiations, Caro thought dazedly.  “She’s expecting your call.  She’s prepared to travel to Brazil, or use holo, whichever you prefer.  I’ll go with whatever she decides.  Thanks for dropping by, Caro.  Now I’ve got a murder to solve.”  She turned on her heel and walked back out.  “Peabody.  With me.”
“Yes, Sir.”  Peabody waved at Caro and hurried to catch up with her Lieutenant.  She was thinking that Caro probably could use a drink right about now.  Dallas in decision making mode had that effect on most people.