Memory in Death (In Death #22)(83)

"You meet the most interesting group of people in your line of work."

"Yeah, it's what you'd call eclectic." Put it away, she told herself. Put the day away and remember you have a life. "So, you got things squared away in your world."

"More or less." He poured them both more wine. "A bit of business tomorrow, but I'm closing the office at noon. There are a few little details I want to see to at home."

"Details." She eyed him as she wound pasta around her fork. "What else could there be? You importing reindeer?"

"Ah, if only I'd thought of it sooner. No, just a bit of this and that." He brushed a hand over hers. "Our Christmas Eve was interrupted last year, if you recall."

"I recall." She'd never forget the manic drive to get to Peabody, and the terror of wondering if they'd be too late. "She'll be in Scotland this time. Have to take care of herself."

"She contacted me today, she and McNab, to thank me. She was surprised, and touched—both of them were—when I told them it had been your idea."

"You didn't have to do that."

"It was your idea."

"It's your shuttle." She squirmed a little.

"It's interesting that you have as difficult a time giving gifts as you do receiving them."

"That's because you always go overboard." Frowning at him, she stabbed a meatball. "You went overboard, didn't you?"

"Are you fishing for a hint?"

"No. Maybe. No," she decided. "You just love stringing me along, seeing as you're such a smart ass."

"What a thing to say. You might end up with a lump of coal in your stocking."

"Few thousand years, I'll have a diamond, so... What was she going to do with the money?"

He sat back, smiled. The cop was back.

"Tuck it away? For what? She had funds tucked. Didn't live high because she didn't want anyone to know. But she had her pretty baubles, locked up so she could look at them. Had jewelry insured," she told him. "I got the paperwork on that. Over a quarter mil in sparkles. And she had her tune-ups. But that's all piddly. Because the money was coming in in what you could call dribbles. But this was her big score. Big, fat lump sum, she's figuring on. Must've had a plan for some of it."

"Property, perhaps. Or a trip. Art, jewelry."

"Got jewelry, and can't wear it too much outside her own house. People would get ideas. But if she planned to relocate... I've got to check, see if she had a valid passport. When she got it, or renewed it. She's got Bobby, but he's grown up now, married now. Not so much at her beck and call. That's a pisser."

"A new home, a new location. Somewhere she can live in the manner she deserves to live. A staff of some kind."

"Need someone to boss around, sure. This isn't the kind of stake you just put in a bank somewhere. Especially since—you can put money on it—she planned to keep tapping you. Can't stick around good old Texas, where people know you. You're freaking rich now. Gotta enjoy it."

"What does that tell you regarding the investigation? If you find she'd made inquiries about a property, or travel, what does it give you besides busywork?"

"Busywork's underrated. Maybe she let something slip, to Bobby, to Zana, to someone else. Maybe we use Peabody's favorite—there's a hot young lover out there, someone she had by the short hairs, or someone who got greedy. Can circle back to revenge. One of her former charges is keeping tabs on her, or is being used by her, and gets wind she's got a big deal going."

She nudged her plate aside. "I want to play this angle. You finished?"

"Nearly. No dessert?"

"I'm fine as is."

"They have gelato." His grin was quick, brilliant. "Chocolate."

"Bastard." She fought her inner war, her weakness. "You think we can get it to go?"

* * *

It was interesting, Eve decided, when you looked in a direction that didn't seem relevant. The little pieces that shuffled down. Maybe not into the puzzle yet, but waiting for you to find the fit.

"Her passport's current." She scooped up the decadent delight of rich chocolate. "Had one for twelve years. And she traveled. Funny nobody mentioned that. Spain, Italy, France. She liked Europe, but there's Rio, and Belize, and Bimini. Exotic locales."

"Nothing off planet?" he asked.

"Nothing she used this passport for. I'm betting she liked sticking to terra firma. Off planet takes a lot of time, and a lot of money. And while she traveled, she was in and out—with few exceptions—in a few days. Longest I find here's ten days in Italy. Went in through Florence. And had another trip there, one day, the week before she came to New York."

"Maybe a weakness for Tuscany," Roarke suggested.

"Quick trips, though." She drummed her fingers, ate more gelato. "Could be she made them on the q.t. Didn't tell her son. I've got to go back, find out if she traveled alone or with a companion."

She studied the data. "Had a reason for going back to Italy right before she came here to make her score. Looking over there, you bet your ass. Thinking she might like to find herself a villa."