Immortal in Death (In Death #3)(4)

Bowls and trays of glittering ribbons, tapes, and buttons were piled everywhere. Sashes, belts, hats, and veils crowded with half-finished outfits of shimmering materials and studded bodices.

The place smelled like an incense farm married to a flower shop.

She was terrified.

A little pale, Eve turned back. “Mavis, I love you. Maybe I haven’t told you that before, but I do. Now I’m leaving.”

“Dallas.” With a quick giggle, Mavis grabbed her arm. For a small woman, Mavis was amazingly strong. “Relax. Take a breath. I guarantee Leonardo’s going to fix you up.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of, Mavis. Deeply afraid.”

“Lemon tea, iced,” Leonardo announced with a musical lilt as he came back through a curtain of draping simulated silk with a tray and glasses. “Please, please, sit. First we’ll relax, get to know each other.”

With her eye on the door, Eve edged toward a chair. “Look, Leonardo, Mavis might not have explained things, exactly. See, I’m — “

“You’re a homicide detective. I’ve read about you,” Leonardo said smoothly, snuggling on a curve-sided settee with Mavis all but in his lap. “Your last case generated a great deal of media. I must confess I was fascinated. You work with puzzles, Lieutenant, as I do.”

Eve sampled the tea, nearly blinked when she discovered it was full-bodied, rich, and wonderful. “You work with puzzles?”

“Naturally. I see a woman, I imagine how I would like to see her dressed. Then I must discover who she is, what she is, how does she live her life. What are her hopes, her fantasies, her vision of herself? Then I must take all of that, piece each part of her together to create the look. The image. At first, she is a mystery, and I’m compelled to solve her.”

Unashamed, Mavis sighed lustily. “Isn’t he mag, Dallas?”

Leonardo chuckled, nuzzled Mavis’s ear. “Your friend is worried, my dove. She think I’ll wrap her in electric pink and spangles.”

“It sounds wonderful.”

“For you.” He beamed back at Eve. “So you’re going to marry the elusive and powerful Roarke.”

“It looks that way,” Eve muttered.

“You met him on a case. The DeBlass case, correct? And intrigued him with your tawny eyes and serious smile.”

“I wouldn’t say I — “

“You wouldn’t,” Leonardo continued, “because you don’t see yourself as he does. Or as I do. Strong, valiant, troubled, dependable.”

“Are you a designer or an analyst?” Eve demanded.

“You can’t be one without the other. Tell me, lieutenant, how did Roarke win you?”

“I’m not a prize.” She snapped it, then set her glass aside.

“Wonderful.” He clasped his hands together and almost wept. “Heat and independence, and just a little fear. You’ll make a magnificent bride. Now to work.” He rose. “Come with me.”

She stood up. “Listen, there’s no point in wasting your time, or mine. I’m just going to — “

“Come with me,” he repeated and took her hand.

“Give it a chance, Eve.”

For Mavis, she allowed Leonardo to lead her under and around falls of material and into an equally cluttered workstation on the far side of the loft.

The computer made her feel a little better. Those she understood. But the drawings it had generated, which were pinned and tacked to every available space, made her heart sink.

Fuchsia and spangles would have been a relief.

The models with their long, exaggerated bodies looked like mutants. Some were sporting feathers, others stones. A few were wearing what could have been clothes, but in such outrageous styles — pointed collars, skirts the size of washcloths, unisuits snug as skin — they looked like participants in a Halloween parade.

“Examples for my first show. High fashion is a twist on reality, you see. The bold, the unique, the impossible.”

“I love them.”

Eve curled her lip at Mavis and folded her arms. “It’s going to be a small, simple ceremony, at home.”

“Um.” Leonardo was already at his computer, using the keyboard with impressive skill. “Now this…” He brought up an image that made Eve’s blood chill.

The dress was the color of fresh urine, ringed with flounces of mud brown from its scalloped neck to its knifepoint hem that dripped with stones the size of a child’s fist. The sleeves were so snug Eve was certain anyone wearing it would loose all feeling in their fingers.

As the image turned, she was treated to a view of the back, dipping past the waist and trimmed in floaty feathers.

“… is not at all for you,” Leonardo finished, and indulged in a deep belly laugh at Eve’s blanched skin. “I apologize. I couldn’t resist. For you… just a sketch, you understand. Slim, long, simple. Only a column. Not too delicate.”

He continued to speak as he worked. On the screen, lines and shapes began to form. Sticking her hands in her pockets, Eve watched.

It looked so easy, Eve mused. Long lines, the most subtle of accents at the bodice, sleeves that came to soft, rounded points just at the back of the hand. Still uneasy, she waited for him to start to add the gingerbread.

“We’ll fuss with it a bit,” he said absently, and again turned the image to show a back as sleek and elegant as the front, with a slit to the knees. “You wouldn’t want a train.”