Promises in Death (In Death #28)(22)

And the baby, Bella Eve, all pink and white and gold.

Lastly, the memory struck that they’d made plans to have Mavis and her family over for dinner.

Crap again.

“Hey.” She stepped in. “Sorry I’m late.”

“Dallas!” A bundle of color and cheer with her artfully tangled pink-tipped blond curls, Mavis bounced up.

She tended to bounce, Eve thought, as Mavis hurried over in towering, triangular-shaped heels covered with rainbow zigzags. The bounce sent the green-and-pink diamond pattern of her microskirt fluttering. She wrapped Eve in a hug, then just beamed pleasure out of eyes currently the same sharp green as her skirt.

Thank God Mavis hadn’t gone for the pink there, too.

“You missed the best time. We ate like oinkers, and Belle showed everybody how she can roll over, and shake her rattle.”

“Wow,” was all Eve could think of.

Leonardo started over. He was big where Mavis was tiny, copper-skinned where his wife was rosy pale. And together, Eve had to admit, they looked pretty damn perfect.

He leaned down, kissed Eve’s cheek. The sausage twists of hair in the style he was currently sporting brushed her skin like silk. “We missed you.”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“Not a thing.” Mavis gave Eve’s arm a squeeze. “We know how complete the job is. Come see the baby!”

Mavis dragged her across the room. It wasn’t that she was reluctant to see Belle, Eve told herself. Exactly. It was just that the baby looked so perfect—like a doll. And dolls were just freaky.

She looked at Roarke first, saw his amusement had increased. “Welcome home, Lieutenant.”

“Yeah.” She might have kissed him—more as apology than greeting—but that meant leaning over the perfect pink-and-gold doll with its big, bright staring eyes.

“You haven’t greeted all our guests.” Smoothly, so smoothly she didn’t see it coming, he rose and plunked the baby into her arms.

Eve managed to choke back a curse so the sound she made was more of a raw-throated squeak. She held Belle at arm’s length, much as she might a potentially incendiary device. “Ah, hi. Nice dress.”

The fact that it was pink and full and fluffy had hidden the tiny reality under it. How could anything that small be human? And what went on inside its brain when it stared that way? Stared until a thin line of sweat crept down your back?

Not sure what to do next, Eve started to turn—very slowly—to pass the baby to Mavis, Leonardo. Even Summerset. Possibly the cat. When Belle blinked those big baby-doll eyes, and shot out a huge, gummy grin.

She kicked her legs, waved her pink rattle, and made some sort of gooing, cooing sound.

Slightly less scary that way, especially with the drool sliding down her chin. And damned if she wasn’t ridiculously cute. Eve bent her elbows a fraction, gave the baby a small, experimental bounce. And something white bubbled out of her grinning mouth.

“What is that? What did I do? Did I push something?”

“It’s just a little milk puke.” Laughing, Mavis dabbed Belle’s mouth with a tiny pink cloth. “She ate like an oinker, too.”

“Okay. Well. Here you go.” She held the baby out to Mavis.

As Mavis took Belle, Leonardo whipped out a larger pink cloth—like a magician—and draped it over Mavis’s shoulder.

“Lieutenant.”

Summerset’s voice had Eve’s shoulders tightening. Here it comes, she thought. He’d ooze his disapproval all over her—like milk puke—because she’d forgotten they were having company and missed dinner.

She braced for it, ran several snarling responses through her brain, and turned. He simply handed her a glass of wine. “I’ll bring your meal in here.”

Her eyes stayed narrowed as she watched him leave the room. “That’s it? That’s all? Is he sick or something?”

“He knows why you’re late,” Roarke said. “That you’re investigating the murder of a fellow officer. Give him some credit.”

She frowned into her wine, drank some. “Do I have to?”

Since it was obvious she couldn’t head straight up to work, she sat on the arm of Roarke’s chair. “Anyway, I left you a message about being late. I remembered to do that. I get credit, too.”

“So noted.” Roarke rubbed a hand on her thigh. “Progress?”

“Not much. It’s hard enough when it’s another cop. But having to tell Morris, seeing his face . . .”

“Morris?”

“They had a thing, Morris and Coltraine—the vic. A serious thing.”

“Oh. No.” Mavis clutched Belle tighter. “This was Ammy? The woman he’s been seeing? We never turned the screen on today, never heard. Roarke just told us you’d caught a case, a cop killer. We didn’t know it was . . . Oh, Leonardo.”

He put his arm around her, drew both his girls closer. “This is . . . horrible. We ran into them at a club one night, sat down with them. You could see how much they . . . It was there between them,” Leonardo said with sorrow in his gilted eyes. “I’m so sorry, so sorry. Is there anything we can do for him?”

“I honestly don’t know.”

“We only met her that one time.” A tear slid down Mavis’s cheek before she pressed it to the top of Belle’s head. “She seemed so up, and they were so into each other. Total vibe, total sparkage. Remember, honey-pot, how I said after they were just gone squared over each other.”