Secrets in Death (In Death #45)(100)

“She wasn’t afraid of him. He walked into a private area, one where a man isn’t supposed to walk. But she wasn’t afraid. She doesn’t try to get her defenses out of her bag—right there where she’d been primping. She knew him, which leans back toward a mark or a connection she knew. She had an ex-lover, but he just doesn’t ring. I should take a closer look there anyway, another look.”

“She was confident,” Mira put in. “Used to having the upper hand. She needed to have it. When she came up against someone like Roarke, or you, Nadine, she backed off. She couldn’t gain the upper hand so she retreated. It’s likely she believed she had that upper hand with her killer.”

“Agreed. So maybe he’s in her books, or it’s someone at Seventy-Five, or in the business. Another lover maybe, or someone she kept on the back burner. She made a mistake with him, underestimated him. Not the snap. I can’t buy the snap and blow.”

“Let’s use your back burner then. A slow simmer can hit boil.”

“That’s a cooking thing, but I get it.” And, as she liked it, Eve nodded. “You think you’ve got it on just enough heat, right, but maybe it gets turned up while you’re not paying attention. The planning time, the research, the practicing. That adds more heat. He walks in. She thinks: I’ve got this. Maybe she tosses out an insult or a come-on, depending where he fits. And that’s the snap, the blow, the boil. But he’s still smart enough to walk right out, to walk right the hell past me and out the damn door.”

“I wondered how much that troubled you.”

“Pisses me off.” Eve expected it always would. “I don’t see him. I can describe at least a dozen people in that bar from before it happened, and every single one of them left in there once I secured the scene. But I don’t see him.”

“You will. Despite the lack of respect you feel, justifiably, for the victim, you’ll look until you see him. If he blended in the bar—”

“See, that’s it.” Eve pointed a finger. “He did blend. Stood out just enough because he kept the outdoor gear on, but the servers just didn’t really look at him. He was not important. Not a celebrity.”

She circled the office again as that planted in her mind. “A well-known figure doesn’t risk that kind of public display. Sitting there like that in a bar where somebody might look, might see. Just like the wits he merged with when they left. One of them looked enough to see a little, but didn’t get a buzz. Not a famous face. I’m bumping the famous faces down,” she decided on the spot. “Connected to, possible. One of the ones, the unimportant types, she intimidated. That’s possible. A bad read on her part, but possible. You can’t hit every time, right? Somebody connected to, or a wrong read that simmered and boiled. Snap. That’s the direction.”

She focused on Mira again. “Sorry. I said I wouldn’t keep you long, and I’ve gone overtime. I’m just thinking out loud now.”

“The process is very interesting. I’m finding myself seeing exactly what you’re thinking and why. Just as I find myself agreeing with that direction. We may both be wrong, but it fits. He’s old enough to control impulse, educated enough to have that medical knowledge or to have the skills and intelligence to gain it. Patient enough to learn her routine. And yes, very likely, able to easily blend into a crowd at an upscale, trendy bar. I’ll add, as he had or acquired this medical knowledge, he could have acquired the same to have killed her more quickly.”

“She bled to death. She bled people. I’d say he appreciated the symbolism.”

“I absolutely agree. That wasn’t random. Nothing here was random.”

“No. I’ve got to get on this. I appreciate the time.”

“If you find more, send it to me. I’ll try to add some meat to the profile.”

“I will. Thanks.” She started for the door, stopped. “You and Mr. Mira weren’t in her books.”

“Why would we be?”

“Besides being connected to me, Nadine, Mavis, you’re at the top of your profession—a kind of celebrity—you’re socially active and well connected, financially solid.”

“I doubt my profession held much interest for her.”

“I disagree, majorly, there. You know secrets, and she was dedicated and devoted to uncovering secrets. You know a lot of mine.”

“Eve. I’d never betray your confidence.”

“I know that. I never doubt that. She didn’t know that, but you weren’t in her books. Here’s why. She looked at you, and at Mr. Mira, and she saw the unassailable. You weren’t worth the time or trouble. That’s not just why you’re at the top of your profession. It’s why you, both of you, are who and what you are.”

Touched, deeply, Mira rose. “I want you to know, if she had—as you put it—tried to put the arm on me or Dennis, we would have come to you. Without hesitation.”

“I know that, too. So, good. Thanks again.”

When Eve left, Mira sat back down, smiled to herself. Trust built slowly for some, but once constructed, became strong as steel.

Eve went straight back to Homicide, turned to her office in time to see Santiago stroll out of it.

“What were you doing in there?”