Kindred in Death (In Death #29)(109)

He gave her the wand, but turned her so she could see herself in the mirror.

“Oh crap.” She poked at her purpling eye. “Crap. Even with the wand and the cold pack, that’s not going to be gone by Saturday.”

“It won’t be your first wedding with a shiner. You had one for ours. Trina will cover the worst of it.”

“Don’t remind me. Damn it, do I have to call Louise, say anything about tomorrow?”

“Summerset’s taken care of it. It’s all managed.”

“There was a rehearsal thing.”

Roarke kissed her lightly. “Managed.”

“Well, hell, now he has something else to sniff at me about. I want to check in with Baxter and Trueheart, just make sure everything’s in place at the Mimotos.”

“Do that if it helps you relax. I have a couple things to check on myself. Then I want a meal.”

They retreated to opposite ends of the bedroom with pocket ’links. When he’d finished, Eve was sitting down, frowning into space.

“Problem?”

“No, they’re in, the house is secured. They’ll take shifts through the night, just in case. Baxter said Mrs. Mimoto, and her husband, are okay about it. More than okay. They want to do it. They’re revved to do it.”

“You spoke with them both yourself just a few hours ago.”

“I know, and they agreed. They’re solid. It’s just I expected some nerves, more questions from them, a need for more assurances. Instead, they cooked dinner. Like with ingredients, right there in the kitchen. Baxter said they went out and bought stuff especially after I talked to them so they could make this big home-cooked meal for him and Trueheart.”

Appreciation lit Roarke’s face. “What did they have?”

“Roast chicken—a real clucker—mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans. The real deal, too. It must’ve cost them. And they had lemon meringue pie for dessert. They did all that for a couple of cops. Baxter’s in love with her, by the way. She’s going to open the door of her house tomorrow to a man she knows wants to kill her, intends to rape her, brutalize her, and kill her. And she baked a pie for a couple of cops.”

“It’s more surprising for you to be treated with courtesy and kindness.”

“They made up a guest room so the one off shift can catch some sleep. Yeah, it’s more surprising. He wants to snuff that out. He wants to end the kind of person who would do that, would think of those things. And that doesn’t surprise me. I was sitting here asking myself if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.”

“It makes you a good cop, and the fact that you’d ask yourself the question makes you a better one.” He leaned down to kiss her bruised eye. “Why don’t we see if there’s any roast chicken to be had around here?”

Deke and Charity Mimoto lived in a pleasant single-family home in White Plains. The old, established neighborhood had weathered the years well, and benefited from the updates and influxes of wealthy young suburbanites. Big, leafy trees and pretty gardens dotted a landscape where the lawns were trimmed, the sidewalks even, and the paint was fresh.

“We’ve been here fifty-three years,” Charity told Eve. “We wanted to put down roots when we started our family, and in a neighborhood where kids had yards to play in. My Deke’s handy, so he’s done a lot of fixing up over the years. A man who can fix a leaky toilet’s as good as a billionaire from where I sit. Is your man handy around the house?” she asked, wagging a finger at Eve’s wedding ring.

She decided it was probably the first time, and the last, she’d actively wonder if Roarke had ever fixed a toilet. “In his way.”

“Deke built the sunroom with his own two hands, and finished off the downstairs so we have a nice, big family room. I’ve lost track of the times he remodeled the kitchen, or one of the baths. We like to keep up.”

“It’s a very nice house, Mrs. Mimoto.” But Eve was more interested in the layout than new countertops.

“A good place to raise children, and a good place when the grands came along, and the greats. We haven’t said anything about all this to the family. Usually most of us know what’s going on with the rest of us, so this isn’t our way.”

“I appreciate your cooperation, Mrs. Mimoto. Our concerns are to keep you safe, and to apprehend this man. We’re going to do both today, then get out of your way.”

“Oh now, you haven’t been in our way.” Charity made waving gestures with her hands. “We enjoyed having David and Troy,” she added, obviously pleased to be on a first-name basis with Baxter and Trueheart. “Such nice young men. Have a muffin,” she invited, holding out a cloth-lined bowl to Eve. “I baked them fresh this morning.”

“I—”

“Go on, go on. You could use some meat on your bones.”

“Thank you. Mrs. Mimoto, I’d like to go over with you what we need you to do, and say, where officers will be posted. Your safety is the first priority.”

“You sit right down here. I’ll get us some coffee, and we’ll talk.”

Eve ate the muffin—truly exceptional—drank the coffee—not half bad, considering how spoiled she was—and carefully went over every step of the plan.

With the talk of leaky toilets and baked goods, Eve had concerns the woman didn’t fully understand the risk, the seriousness. The tabletop discussion served the dual purpose of fully informing her bait, and relieving Eve’s mind.