Divided in Death (In Death #18)(66)

"She just needed to spew."

"I know." Then he wrapped his big arms around Eve, pressing her hard against the rock wall of his chest. This time when he spoke, his voice was thick and shaky. "The baby moved."

"Yeah." She wasn't quite sure what response was called for, and gingerly patted him somewhere on the miles of exposed skin of his back. "She said. So, ah, everything's good now."

"Everything's perfect." He heaved a sigh. "Perfect." He drew back, and his gold eyes were gleaming. "Good friends, the woman I love with our child inside her. Life is so precious. I realize that now more than ever before. I know Dr. Mira needs to speak with you, but I just wanted to have a moment first."

Drawing her close to his side he all but carried her to the table where Mira sat.

"Now don't start." He wagged a finger at Trina. "Dallas needs to speak with Dr. Mira, and to have a moment to relax."

"I can bide my time." Trina grinned, a wide magenta smile that sent a chill up Eve's spine. "I have plans. Lots of plans." She scooped up her plate and wandered off on six-inch platform sandals.

"Oh my God."

With a look caught between sympathy and amusement, Mira patted the chair beside her. "Sit. What a gorgeous evening. I'm stealing an hour of it to be here, on what was supposed to be a quick professional call. Now I'm having this lovely glass of wine and this rather magnificent hamburger."

"Did he actually cook it?" Eve glanced back at Roarke. "On that thing?"

"He did. I'm probably telling tales out of school, but he talked to my Dennis at some length about how to use the grill." Mira took another bite. "He seems to have figured it out."

"Nothing much gets over on Roarke. A professional call?" she prompted.

"Yes. I could've waited until tomorrow, but I thought you'd like to know as soon as possible that Reva Ewing passed her level-three."

"Thanks. How's she doing?"

"A little shaky and tired. Her mother took her straight home. I think she's in good hands there."

"Yeah, Caro's another who always seems to know what she's doing."

"She's afraid for her daughter, Eve. However efficient and steady she is on the surface, under it, she's desperately worried. I could speak with her, or Roarke could. I'm sure he will. But the fact is you're the one in authority. And you're the one whose thoughts and opinions she'd respect most in this."

"Did you come by to tell me about the level three, or to tell me I should talk to Caro?"

"Both." Mira patted her hand. "Also, I looked over the results of her blood tests taken just after she was taken into custody."

"There was nothing. No chemicals, illegal or otherwise. And the medicals found no trauma to indicate she'd been physically knocked out."

"No." Mira picked up her wine. "But we both know there are some anesthetics that can debilitate quickly, and dissipate without a discernible trace within two or three hours."

"The sort of thing Homeland would have in its pantry."

"I imagine so. When I had Reva under, I took her back through the steps and stages of that night. She recalled a movement to her left as she was facing the bed. She doesn't remember this, not clearly, except under hypnosis. A movement," Mira went on, "then a scent, something strong, bitter, and the taste of it in the back of her throat."

"Probably sprayed her." Eve looked over the gardens, but she wasn't seeing the busy butterflies now, or hearing the insistent bird. She saw the candlelit bedroom, the bodies curled close together on bloody sheets. "Waited for her to come up, came in on her on her off-side, hit her with the spray. Set the rest of it up while she was out."

"If so, it was organized thinking. Cold and organized. And still... much of what was done was overly dramatic-beyond the violence that shows the capability for brutality, there were added steps, complications that were unnecessary for the result we're assuming was desired."

"Because he was having fun with it."

"Yes." Pleased, Mira enjoyed her hamburger. "He was. Several mis-judgments and flourishes-when simplicity would have served his purposes better-indicate to me that he gets caught up in the role he's playing. Enjoying it, and perhaps wanting to prolong it."

"Adding touches to a pretty tight and simple plan that unbalance the whole. What do they call it? Ad-libbing."

"Very well put. You have organized thinking but impulsiveness as well. I doubt he was working alone. I also doubt that the one who conceived the core of the plan was the one to carry it out. Now I'm going to pass you to Morris so you can get the business over with and enjoy some of your evening."

"It's a little tough to enjoy anything when I know Trina has plans." But Eve rose, walked over to Morris. "Got something for me?"

"Dallas!" Mavis popped up. "Did you know Morris played the sax?"

"The what?"

"Saxophone," Morris said. "Tenor. It's a musical instrument, Lieutenant."

"I know what a saxophone is," she muttered.

"He used to play with a band in college," Mavis went on. "And sometimes they still get together for private gigs. They're The Cadavers."