Connections in Death (In Death #48)(5)

She spotted Garnet DeWinter. The forensic anthropologist huddled in conversation with the commander’s wife while Morris made his sax wail.

EDD Callendar rushed out on the terrace, giving a “Woo!” as she dragged a laughing Charles with her into the shaking bodies. Eve supposed dancing skills had once been a job requirement for the former licensed companion. Dr. Louise Dimatto, his wife, hooked an arm through Eve’s.

“I’d say this house is warmed.”

“It’s a heated terrace.”

“No.” On a laugh, Louise lifted her glass. “Housewarming, Dallas. This house is definitely warmed. So, who’s that stunning woman dancing with Crack?”

“That’s what I’d like to know.” Eve shrugged. “Kid shrink.”

“Really. I love her lip dye. If I tried that color I’d look like a zombie. Is that—That’s Detective Carmichael singing with Mavis.”

“Yeah. She has pipes.”

“I’ll say. Well, since Callendar stole my man, I’m going to steal someone else’s.” She circled a finger in the air. “Feeney,” she decided, and circled the dancers.

Roarke brought Eve another drink that washed away even the memory of zucchini. When they took the music down to slow and he turned her into his arms, she swayed with him under the swimming slice of moon.

Yeah, she thought, this house is warmed.

*

And if, on the drive home, she took out her PPC and did a quick little run on Rochelle Pickering, so what?

Roarke stretched out his legs in the back of the limo. “What are you up to there, Lieutenant?”

“Just checking something.”

He waited only a beat. “Don’t tell me you’re running Rochelle.”

“Okay.”

“Eve, Crack’s a big boy. Literally.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Eve,” he said again, and laid a hand on hers. “You should know I’ve already run her.”

“What? You’re not a cop, and—”

“And she’s not a suspect. She is, however, the top contender for the head therapist at An Didean.”

“I thought you had one of those already.”

“I did. She had a personal issue come up just last week, and is moving to East Washington to be with her son. I’m vetting the position again. Dr. Pickering was already a leading candidate when I went with Dr. Po.”

“Does she know that?”

“Unlikely. I can tell you she’s highly qualified, experienced, dedicated, comes strongly recommended. And has no criminal record.”

“That you found. Okay, okay,” she mumbled after his quiet stare. “If she had one, you’d have found it.” She shrugged with it. “Save me time then.”

“She’s the only daughter and second child. Three siblings. Her father did time—twice—for assault, for illegals. Her younger brother did time, as a juvenile, for theft, possession—and as an adult for the same. He belonged to the Bangers.”

“That’s bad business. Their turf’s narrowed, but they’re still bad business.”

“Most gangs are. He’s been out of prison two years—just—completed rehab, and by all accounts is clean, and no longer affiliated with the Bangers.”

Eve put that aside for later. Though the Bangers weren’t as big and bad as they’d once been, they didn’t just let go, either.

“Her father died in a prison incident when she was fifteen,” Roarke continued, “and her mother self-terminated shortly thereafter. From that point—and reading between the lines, to a great extent prior—they were raised by their maternal grandmother. They grew up in the Bowery,” Roarke added. “The roughest part of it.”

“Banger turf.”

“Yes. The oldest brother went to trade school, and has his own business—plumbing—in Tribeca. He’s married, has a three-year-old daughter and another child on the way. The youngest is in law school, Columbia, on scholarship. The middle brother’s been gainfully employed at Casa del Sol, Lower West Side, as a cook—a trade he apparently learned in prison—since he got out. He reports to his parole officer, attends regular AA meetings, and with his sister volunteers at a local shelter twice a month.”

“The Bangers don’t let go.”

“The Bangers are in the Bowery. Rochelle lives with her brother in a two-bedroom apartment in the Lower West, well outside their territory. She had a hard and difficult childhood—something you and I know a great deal about. She overcame. It’s hardly a coincidence she devoted her skills to the emotional welfare of children.”

She knew his tones, his inflections. Knew him.

“You’re going to hire her.”

“It strikes me as a happy twist of fate we happened to meet her tonight. I’d already planned to contact her Monday morning to set up an interview. If I’m satisfied after that, and she’s interested, I’ll offer her the position, yes.”

He shifted, trailed a finger down the shallow dent in her chin. “Unless you give me a solid reason not to.”

She hissed out a breath. “I can’t. I’m not going to knock her because one of her brothers was an asshole, because her father was another.”