Desperation in Death (In Death #55)(26)
But meeting was the key word, she reminded herself.
She dragged on jeans. Since Roarke wore them, they ranked appropriate. And since she had some bruising on the ribs, she used a thin cold pack on them, then chose a loose shirt.
No time for a few passes with a healing wand. Besides, Roarke usually did that for her. Not this time, she thought as she started downstairs. The best they’d manage tonight was—what would he call it? A veneer of civility.
That sounded just like him.
She stepped out onto the patio.
A table set for four with dishes of summer blue held a squat, clear pitcher full of yellow flowers. Napkins with yellow and blue stripes poofed out of pale yellow water glasses. Wineglasses had blue stems, and tea candles snuggled in clear holders.
More flowers spilled and speared from pots arranged on one side of the patio.
A portable bar and Roarke’s big-ass shiny grill stood on the other side. Between them, a small table held a variety of fancy canapés.
It all looked cheerful and festive—exactly the opposite of her current mood.
Roarke poured something frothy and slushy with crushed ice from a pitcher into a birdbath glass.
“Try this.”
She decided she’d welcome anything containing alcohol. One sip gave her tart, cold, and was more than welcome.
“It’s good. It looks nice out here.”
“We should think about having a cookout for friends before we go on vacation.”
Veneer of civility, she thought. He was a master, but she could coat it on, too.
“Okay.”
“Summerset’s seen to the rest of the meal. We have it in the cold or warm compartments of the grill, so we’ve only to set it all out once we’re ready for the meal.”
Though the droid hadn’t delivered any gut punches, her stomach felt knotted up and far from interested in food. But she said, civilly, “Sure.”
“You might want to come up with more than one-word answers or statements when the Miras get here.”
She gave him cool look for cool look. “I will. See? There’s two words already.”
She decided it proved lucky for both of them when Summerset brought the Miras out.
To show her mettle, Eve stepped up first. “Thanks for coming on such short notice.”
“More than happy to. Everything’s so pretty!” Mira, pretty herself in a breezy summer dress blooming with little purple flowers, gave Eve a quick hug before turning to Roarke.
“Nothing like a cookout on a summer night.” Dennis Mira wore khakis and a green shirt Eve thought his wife had picked for him, as it matched his wonderful eyes.
His gentle kiss under her aching eye told her the makeup deal hadn’t really worked. His follow-up hug wasn’t quick, and Eve had to stop herself before she burrowed into the comfort of it.
He smelled like orange slices.
“Right this minute I’m envying you all this space. Your gardens!” Mira took the glass from Roarke. “We’d never have the talent or time to maintain it, but I can stand here, admire, and envy. Well, this is delicious,” she added after a sip from her birdbath.
Dennis smiled his dreamy, distracted smile as he accepted his own, but kept an arm around Eve just another moment.
Her stress level plummeted; her stomach unknotted.
The veneer wasn’t as hard to maintain as she’d feared, over frothy drinks on a warm summer evening. She got through what she understood as required small talk.
Flowers, summer plans, Mavis’s new house project.
If she thought about the board and book she’d yet to set up in her home office, she did her best to lock it down.
Then with the grill smoking, and Roarke and Dennis hovering over the steaks, Mira opened the door.
“I’ve read the files. I’m sorry we didn’t have the time or opportunity to consult today. Or I would be if I wasn’t getting a steak dinner out of it.”
“That was mostly on me anyway.”
“No word yet, I assume, on the second missing girl?”
“Nothing. We’ve got the alert out, and we’re plastering up her photo.”
“You’re afraid they caught her—or worse.”
She couldn’t discount it, but … “If it was worse, if they killed her, we’d have found the body. No reason to hide it, or try to, since they left one out in the open.”
“I agree. If she managed to get away, it’s more likely she’d go home than to the police. And it’s very unlikely she’d go home.”
“Some of the blood was hers,” Eve began, then saw Roarke transferring steaks to a platter.
She did her duty, pulled platters and bowls from the compartments. Grilled vegetables, roasted potatoes, slices of tomato and mozzarella, crusty little rolls.
“Everything looks amazing.” Mira lifted her glass of the red wine Roarke poured. “Compliments to the chef.”
“You did the vegetables on the grill?” Dennis asked.
“Those compliments go to Summerset. But I may give that a try next time. We’re going to put together a party, a cookout, hopefully before we leave for Europe.”
“It’s all in the marinade,” Dennis told him.
“Is it now?”
“It’s key.” He sampled some of the grilled zucchini Eve hoped to avoid. “Summerset knows the key.”