Brotherhood in Death (In Death #42)(32)

“Good for him. He’s a nice young man. Bright, I take it?”

“He is. He’s a good cop.” She ate because it was there. “It’s nice soup.”

“It really is.” Peabody glanced at Gillian. “The sage really makes it. My granny always uses sage in hers.”

“You like to cook?”

“Bake mostly, when I have time. It’s relaxing.”

Eve let the small talk circle around her. She should cut it off. She shouldn’t be cozied up here in the kitchen with soup and conversation. She should—

Dennis reached over, patted her hand. “You mustn’t worry. You mustn’t worry about doing your job. I want to help you find whoever gave Edward a hard death.”

“Mr. Mira, you’re not a suspect. Nobody thinks you had anything to do with this. But we have to go through this, and some of the questions I have to ask are going to be pointed, they’re going to feel hard and intimidating. I’m sorry.”

“There’s no need to be sorry. You go ahead—but finish your soup first.” He shifted to Peabody. “And how is your young man? I like him quite a lot. He’s so colorful.”

“Yeah, he is. He’s great.”

Eve finished her soup, caught Mira’s eye and the quiet gratitude in it. So maybe it had been the right thing, just to give Mr. Mira time to settle.

“I’m going to make hot chocolate,” Dennis announced. “You like my hot chocolate,” he said to Eve.

“Who wouldn’t, but—”

“You and Delia— You like hot chocolate?”

“It’s a big weakness of mine, and now I know why I didn’t get any cake earlier.”

“It’s better than cake.” He winked at her, tugging hard on Eve’s heart. “You and Delia come sit at the counter while I make it. It’ll keep my hands busy while you interview me. And, Charlie, you and Gillian sit right there. Gilly, you behave.”

“Maybe.”

He chuckled as he rose.

They’d do it his way, Eve decided and got up to switch to a stool at the big kitchen counter while Dennis hunted in cupboards.

“You make it from scratch?” Peabody’s eyes went shiny as he found a big bar of chocolate, a canister of sugar. “It’s a real treat to watch somebody make hot chocolate from scratch.”

Eve sent Peabody a look to remind her they weren’t there for a treat.

As Dennis put an actual pan on an actual cooktop, Eve reminded herself of the same.

“Record on.”





6


Eve entered their names, the case file, into the record. Recited the Revised Miranda.

“Do you understand your rights and obligations, Professor Mira?”

He gave her a vague smile at the use of his title, put a pot on top of the pot of water—What was that about?—began to add chocolate. “Yes, I do, thank you.”

“Edward Mira was your cousin.”

“Yes, first cousin, on my father’s side.”

He chose a small metal bowl, put it in the freezer.

Eve wondered if she should point out his mistake, but decided to push forward with the interview. “Would you relate, for the record, what happened yesterday, with your arrival at the property at 2314 Spring Street?”

He took them through it, the weather, the cab ride, made her wish she’d warned him not to elaborate as he stated on record he was angry with his cousin. When he said he’d heard voices, Eve interrupted.

“Can you tell me how many voices?”

“Oh.” He frowned, looked sweetly bewildered. “I’m not sure, not at all sure, but at least two, as it was a kind of conversation—I should say it felt like hearing a kind of conversation. I couldn’t hear the words, and I’m afraid I was distracted. But they stopped talking when I called out for Edward. I’m sure of that. I called out, as I didn’t want to startle anyone.”

“At least two voices. You couldn’t make out the words, but could you tell if they were male or female?”

“That’s an excellent question.” And one he looked a bit startled by. “I assumed one was Edward’s, but I wasn’t paying attention. I often don’t. I have a little trick Charlie taught me that helps me remember when I haven’t paid enough attention. It seems I’m too often thinking of something else.”

He closed his eyes, took some quiet breaths. “I’m walking into the house. It’s warm after the bitter wind. I smell lemon oil, so I know Sila’s been there to clean in the last day or so. I feel sad because I can imagine it as it was, with my grandparents. Some of the furniture’s been taken because it was left to some of us. There were always fresh flowers on the entrance table. I’m sorry they’re not there any longer, sorry it’s so dim. It’s such a raw, gloomy day, and I wish there was more light. I hear voices. I’m annoyed and sad and hear voices coming from down the hall. The study, I think, but I’m not sure. They’re . . . angry or excited. I didn’t realize, but yes, raised voices. My cousin’s, I think, yes, and someone else. A woman. I think a woman.”

He opened his eyes again. “I think a woman was with him. Is that helpful?”

“Yes. What did you do then?”