Betrayal in Death (In Death #12)(25)

"You don't like her."

"I don't dislike her. It's the mother in me, I suppose, becoming impatient for Vince to move on."

It didn't look like it would happen anytime soon, Eve mused. Vince Lane might have been his mother's apple, but to her he looked a bit weak around the chin.

Fashion-wise, he went for the trendy and expensive, and looked, in her opinion, elaborate and overdressed next to Roarke's understated elegance.

But then, what did she know about fashion?

"Then there's Carlton Mince," Magda went on. "Looks a bit like a mole, doesn't he? Bless him. He's managed my finances for more years than I care to count. He's helped me tremendously with the ins and outs of the foundation. Steady as a rock, that's Carlton, and I'm afraid just as interesting to most people. His wife, the woman in the remarkably ugly and unsuitable gown, is Minnie. Minnie Mince, can you imagine? She's walking proof that you can indeed be too thin and too addicted to body sculpting."

Eve felt herself smirk before she could stop it. The fact was, the woman looked like an overdressed, over-polished stick with a tower of gaudy red hair.

"Twenty years ago she was his bookkeeper," Magda continued, "with bad hair and an eye on the goal. The last twelve she's been his wife. She got the goal, Carlton, and still has bad hair."

Eve laughed. "That's probably mean."

"Oh, probably. But where's the fun in talking about people if you only say nice things? You look at Minnie and are assured money can't buy taste, but at the same time she suits Carlton to the ground. She makes him happy, and since I'm enormously fond of him, I like her for that alone. Last, we have Roarke's charming friend from Ireland. What can you tell me about him?"

"Not a lot. They were boys together in Dublin, and haven't seen each other for a number of years."

"And you watch him with a calculating eye."

"Do I?" Eve moved her shoulders. It paid to remember that actors were the observant sort. At least the good ones were. "I probably watch everyone that way. Another occupational hazard."

"You don't look at this one with a cop's eye," Magda commented as Roarke crossed the room toward them.

"Ladies." In a gesture both absent and intimate, he trailed his fingers over Eve's shoulder. On cue, Summerset came to the door to announce dinner.

During the meal Eve confirmed that Magda was, for the most part, a keen observer of human nature. Liza Trent either giggled or knit her brows in rapt concentration whenever Vince spoke. The fact that she could put on a good show of fascination with his tedious remarks earned her points, in Eve's mind, as an actor.

Carlton Mince was as quiet as the mole Magda had compared him to, speaking in polite and modulated tones when called on to do so, and otherwise steadily burrowing his way through each course. As for his wife, Eve caught her surreptitiously examining the silverware for the maker's mark.

Conversation wound its way around to the auction, and there, at least, Vince appeared to know his business. "Magda Lane's collection of theater memorabilia, particularly costume, is unrivaled." He cut delicately into his pressed duck. "In fact, I tried to persuade her to limit the auction to that alone."

"One fell swoop," Magda said with a laugh. "I never could do anything in pieces."

"Truer words." Her son sent her a warm, if exasperated look. "Still, saving the ball gown from Pride's Fall until last will end the event on a high note."

"Ah, I remember it well." Mick let out a wistful, lover-like sigh. "The spoiled and headstrong Pamela sweeps into the ballroom at Carlyle Hall in her simmering gown of the ice goddess, daring any man to resist her. The dreams I had that night, after seeing you in that dress, Miss Lane, why they'd bring a blush to your cheek."

Obviously delighted, she leaned toward him. "I don't blush easily, Mr. Connelly."

He chuckled. "I do. Does it hurt your heart, a little, to part with your memories?"

"I'll never part with them, just the visual aides. And what the foundation will do with the proceeds will keep me very warm at night."

"It costs the earth to keep all those costumes protected and stored," Minnie put in, and earned the faintest of sneers from Magda.

"As a former bookkeeper, I'm sure you'll agree, at the end of the day, the investment's been well worth it."

"Unquestionably." Though he kept his attention focused on his duck, Carlton nodded his head. "The tax benefits alone from -- "

"Oh, not taxes, Carlton." Magda held up her hands in surrender. "Not at such a lovely meal. Even the thought gives me indigestion. Roarke, this wine is sinful. One of yours?"

"Mmmm. The Montcart '49. Elegant," he said, lifting his glass to the light. "Polished with just a hint of bite. I thought it suited you."

She all but purred. "Eve, I'll have to confess to being desperately in love with your husband. I hope you don't arrest me for it."

"If that was a crime in this state, I'd have three-quarters of the female population of New York in cages."

"Darling." Roarke looked down the table, met her eyes. "You flatter me."

"That wasn't flattery."

Liza giggled, as if she didn't know what else to do. "It's so hard not to be jealous when you've got a handsome, powerful man." She gave Vince's arm a quick squeeze. "I just want to scratch their eyes out when they come on to my Vinnie."