Concealed in Death (In Death #38)(79)

“A kind of stalking,” Roarke suggested.

“Maybe. Or maybe envying. Some people kill what they envy. If you’re Montclair Jones, you know what they’re doing, the girls, and maybe you let them know you know and you’re okay with it. You build up that trust—we’re all pulling something over on the do-gooders.”

“Why kill them?”

“Don’t know. Maybe you’ve got a stresser that breaks in. Moving to a new place, have this huge opportunity to do more good, and do it right. But the sibs lay it on the line for him. You have to straighten up, bro. We can’t keep floating you the way we have. We can’t squander this gift from the old higher power. So that’s a pisser. Now he has to actually work? Have real responsibilities, and they’re going to be on his ass. And who’s fault is that?”

“The children.”

“He could think so. And those girls—they sneak around doing what they want, but he’s going to have to toe the line.”

“And back to envy.”

“Yeah, so screw that, screw them. Something like that,” she said, not quite satisfied. “Because I’m not buying all the coincidence in timing, in cross-relationships. It all has a center. If Shelby’s a key, maybe he’s a lock. Put them together and it could open the center.”

“You’re going to have a busy day.”

She cocked her head. “Am I?”

“You’ll want to consult with Mira because talking it out with her will help you refine the theory. You’ll want to talk to both Joneses—separately. You’ll hope to get this DeLonna’s contact information from Sebastian, otherwise you’re going to squeeze me to find his HQ so you can put your boot on his neck until he does. And I imagine you’ll be talking to someone in Africa.”

He rose as he spoke, came to her, laid his hands on her shoulders. “My meetings pale beside your meetings.”

“I don’t have meetings,” she insisted. “They’re interviews, interrogations, consults. Meetings are for suits.” She gave his tie a tug.

“You may not wear one, Lieutenant, but you’re a suit with a badge.”

“Insulting me so soon after we’ve had sex could mean it’s the last sex you have for the foreseeable future.”

He pulled her in, caught her mouth with his. “I like my odds,” he told her, taking another quick nip before he let her go.

They were probably pretty good, she admitted as she headed down. She flipped her coat off the newel post, shrugged into it as she headed out into the frosty, ear-numbing morning. And as she engaged her in-dash ’link to contact Mira, she thought as she often did, if Roarke had turned right instead of left, he’d have made a damn good cop.

“Eve. You’re moving early today.”

“Yeah, I’ve got a full plate. I’m hoping you can make room for me on yours. I’ve got some thoughts on the Jones siblings I want to run by you. Get your sense.”

“I have an hour now if you can come to my home.”

“Oh. I don’t want to push into your off time.”

“It’s not a problem. I was about to review the notes you sent me in any case.”

“I’m on my way then. Thanks.” She switched off, contacted Peabody as she made the first turn out of the gates. “I’m swinging by Mira’s for a quick consult, then I want to hit Jones and Jones again. I want to talk to them separately.”

“You want me to meet you there?”

“No. Arrange for the sister to come in. Play it nice, but firm. I want her in my space. Then we’ll take her brother. While I’m with Mira, contact Owusu in Zimbabwe. I want—”

“I get to talk to Africa? Major score!”

“Glad I could start your day off with a bang. See if she’s talked to her people yet about the younger Jones. And ask if she can—if she hasn’t—get a sense of him. Did he put in the work? Was he good at the work? And get those details of the lion mauling. And if she can find anyone who has a picture of him from back then.”

“I’m all over it, like a hyena. No crazy and mean. Like a howler monkey.”

“Hold the howling and get a clear picture of him over there. I want specific details I can use in the interviews with the siblings.”

“I’ll get what’s to get. Then you’ve got to give me the deep deets on this Sebastian. I can’t believe Mavis knew—”

“Basics are in the notes. We’ll get deeper later. Get me something from Africa.”

Eve shut off, and began to hunt for parking.

She took the block-and-a-half walk in stride. Fast strides as the air froze her fingers and cheeks. Too early for the off-to-school brigade, she noted, but not for the domestics. Nannies, maids, cooks poured off maxibuses, streamed up from the subway, hoofed it over the sidewalk toward the day’s work.

Owners, or those owners paid, walked a variety of dogs. She smelled fresh bread, chestnuts roasting, coffee, sugar-dusted pastries.

Not a bad place to call home, she thought as she walked up to the Miras’ front door. Even before she rang the bell, the door opened.

As always when she saw the kind and dreamy eyes of Dennis Mira, her heart gave a little tug. Just something about him, she thought, with his cardigans and mussed hair, bemused smile.