Celebrity in Death (In Death #34)(59)

“Not everything,” she corrected. “A man in your position could do anything, that’s the point. You could have pressured me, threatened me, blackmailed me. You could’ve used violence. But you wouldn’t have.”

“I love you.” His eyes met hers briefly, and it was there. The simplicity of it. The enormity of it. “Hurting you wasn’t the goal—or an option.”

“Exactly. For K.T. hurting was just a means, because possession was the goal. And in fact, hurting was a bonus, I think. She wouldn’t have stopped.”

“What does that tell you?”

“Killing her was the means to stop her. Not personal in the intimate sense, but like closing and locking a door when what’s inside the room is dangerous or just really unpleasant. The lack of real violence in the killing’s part of that. She falls—or gets pushed. The killer doesn’t keep at her, doesn’t strike, hit, choke. What he does is drag her into the water, tidy up a little. There now. All better.”

“You’ve eliminated Matthew.”

“The recording covers him, and Marlo, though we could argue they staged it. It’s what they do. But you add the lack of physical payback. Her intentions were to force him into a sexual relationship he didn’t want. That’s personal, it’s intimate—but the murder wasn’t. So yeah, Matthew’s low on the list. Marlo now …”

“Really?”

“Not as low. I’d expect more physical from her—punch, slap, scratch—something. But I can see them intending to confront her as they stated. I can also see Marlo facing off with her first, giving her a shove, then either panicked or just really pissed off, finishing it off with the pool. Matthew would cover for her. He loves her. It doesn’t play real pretty for me, but it makes a tune.”

She let it simmer while he turned in the long, winding driveway toward home. The setting sun washed the stones in gold, flashed spears of red against the many windows. Leaves, still green from summer, took on that light and hinted of the creeping autumn.

When she got out of the car, the air held that same hint—fresh, she thought, rather than chilly.

“Summer’s toast,” she said.

“Well, it had a long, hot stretch of it. It’s cool enough we could have a fire in the bedroom tonight.”

The idea appealed so much she continued to smile even when she walked in and saw Summerset looming in the foyer.

“Halloween’s weeks off yet, but I see you’ve got your costume. It’s good to be prepared.”

He merely cocked an eyebrow. “I have a box of your clothes that came with you into the household and haven’t been used as rags, as yet. In the event you want to trick-or-treat as a sidewalk sleeper.”

“A predictable home,” Roarke put in as he took Eve’s arm to pull her upstairs, “is a comfort to a man.”

“Did he mean that?” she demanded as the cat streaked up after them. “Or was he yanking my chain?”

“I have no idea.”

She shot a dark look behind her. “My clothes weren’t that bad.”

“No comment,” Roarke said when she turned the look on him. “Whatsoever.”

“All he wears is mortician black anyway. What does he know? Hey,” she objected when he continued to pilot her toward the bedroom. “I’ve got work.”

“Yes, and I’d be interested in helping with that. But I want to show you something first.”

“In the bedroom?” Now she narrowed her eyes, gave him an up and down. “I’ve seen it before. It’s nice. I can probably make time to play with it later.”

“You’re too good to me.”

He steered her straight in, and toward the box tied with a gold bow on the bed.

“Oh man. You got me something in Cleveland.” In reflex, her hands dove into her pockets. “You should put it away until Christmas.”

“It’s barely October, and you’ll want this before Christmas. It’s not from Cleveland.”

“I already have everything. You just keep buying stuff.”

“You don’t have this, which you’d see for yourself if you’d open the bloody thing.” He gave her a finger flick on the head.

“Okay, okay. It’s too big for jewelry, so I probably won’t lose it. It’s clothes because everything I used to have is rag fodder. It’s something nice.” She gave the ribbon a tug. “So I’ll probably destroy it at work, then Summerset’ll give me the hairy eyeball. Which is just one of the reasons I wish you wouldn’t—

“Oh …” There was a flavor to the sound she made, as a woman might make eating soft, creamy chocolate. “Nice.”

She had a weakness for leather and rich colors, which he knew very well. When she pulled the jacket out of the box, he saw the deep, burnished bronze suited her just as well as he’d hoped. It would hit her mid-thigh, and fall very straight. The deep, slash pockets—reinforced—would hold everything she needed to carry. The buttons on the front, and on the decorative belt in the back, were in the shape of her badge.

“It’s great.” She pushed her face against it, inhaling the scent. “Really great. I love the coat you got me last year.” Even as she spoke she rubbed her cheek against the leather. “I really don’t need—”