Faithless in Death (In Death, #52)(26)

“She’s a lousy human being, Lieutenant. My taste has improved considerably since that summer. She may try to contact me, knowing I’m a cop, knowing I was attached back then. She’d want an ally, someone who’d give her inside information.

“She’d have picked the wrong cop for that.”

“Yes, sir, Lieutenant. If she makes that attempt, should I notify you even if you’re off shift?”

“Bet your ass. And by my clock, you’re off shift now. Go have a drink with a pal.”

“Actually, the woman I’m seeing’s busy tonight. I think I’ll go talk to my brother. He may have some information he hasn’t shared with me. He would if I asked him to.”

“Fine. You handled yourself well today, Shelby.”

“Thanks, Lieutenant.”

Off shift or not, Eve sat to write it up. She expected Gwen would make bail within two, maybe three hours.

But they’d be very unpleasant hours.





6


Once she’d finished, Eve put together what she’d need to work at home. She considered her commander might want an oral report the next day, and she might want to consult Mira.

She walked out into the bullpen and saw McNab sitting on the corner of Peabody’s desk. Whatever he said made her partner laugh.

Eve was surprised he didn’t send the general population into hysterics with his fashion choices.

Today’s included tangerine baggies, a T-shirt she assumed depicted the results of a supernova with its explosion of reds, golds, and oranges. His airboots and the jacket he’d tossed over the back of Peabody’s chair went for lime green.

She couldn’t say why.

He’d tied his blond hair in a long tail with an orange cord. All those colors and more he’d represented in the hoops that circled his entire earlobe.

She started to speak, to tell them both to wrap it up and go home. And Roarke walked in.

More than a contrast to McNab’s skinny frame inside a circus rainbow, Roarke’s leanly muscled build inside the smoke-gray suit radiated power.

Then you got to the face, framed by that mane of black silk hair, and no heart could be blamed for skipping a few beats.

That face, carved by some genius god on a particularly artistic day. Those eyes, so wildly blue they caught the breath. That mouth, so perfectly, romantically sculpted, curved now, for her.

Maybe, just maybe, with another handful of years of marriage, seeing him unexpectedly wouldn’t simply dazzle her.

“Lieutenant, my luck’s in.”

And there was Ireland, with all its magic and poetry, whispering in his voice.

“That makes two of us.”

“I had a meeting, and took a chance you’d still be about.”

“Just heading out.”

“Yay!” Peabody said and sprang up from her desk. “We can meet up with Mavis and Leonardo.”

“That’s the plan,” Roarke agreed.

“What plan?” Eve’s head swiveled from Roarke to Peabody and back again. “I don’t have that plan. I don’t have time to have drinks or dinner or whatever.”

“It’s not that, I don’t think. She has some surprise she wants to spring.” Peabody snagged her coat. “I was going to tag her, tell her we probably couldn’t make it, but we can. She wants us to meet up, just a few blocks from here.”

“Why?” Eve demanded, and Roarke shrugged.

“She wouldn’t say,” McNab said. “She just went …” He wiggled his hands in the air. “All will be revealed.”

“Fine. Fine.” It was Mavis, after all. “But I have to make it quick. I’m working one,” she told Roarke.

“Yes, I know.”

“How do you know?”

“I spoke with Jack about it briefly.”

She stopped dead on her way out. “You spoke to Commander Whitney about my case?”

“Briefly. He mentioned you were interviewing Gwendolyn Huffman, and I found that interesting.”

“You know her?”

“I don’t, no.” He steered Eve to the elevator. “I do know her fiancé a little, and his family. They’re lovely people.”

“Maybe.”

“Well now, you’ll tell me all about it later. I’ve sent my car along, so I’ll ride with you. We all will,” he said as the four of them squeezed on the elevator.

“I don’t even know where the hell we’re going.”

“I’ve the address,” Roarke assured her.

“So you drive.” And even if it was only a few blocks, she could start a good run on Gwen’s parents. Especially the father.

And dig into Natural Order.

When they got home, she’d ask Roarke to dig into the Huffman finances—and Gwen’s trust. It would help to know just how much was at stake for her.

By the time she got home—with this surprise detour—Baxter and Trueheart should have completed the search and have a report.

Gwen wasn’t an idiot, but she hadn’t expected a search. She may have left something in her apartment that added to the mix.

“McNab, did you finish with my electronics?”

“Oh yeah. Nothing hinky on the vic’s e’s, Dallas. Texts on her phone and a few tags. A lot of texts from your suspect, going back to last fall. A lot of the lot of are sexy texts if you read between the lines.”