Promises in Death (In Death #28)(97)

“I doubt you were her first. It usually takes more than one to do it that cold. She doesn’t have any kills on the job. Probably too bad as Testing after a termination’s pretty intense. More intense than the screening, the evals, to get a badge.”

“You seem so sure it was her.”

“You looked in her face when she killed you.”

Coltraine swiveled her chair from side to side. “Your dream, Dallas, your perspective. I can’t tell you anything you don’t already know.”

“Fine, we’ll play it that way. Yeah, it’s her. That’s my perspective.”

“Because we’re women.”

“Plays into it, yeah. I think Mavis had some good points. But she was in my top two right along. Newman was up there with her because he keeps his head down, stays off the grid. Does the job, pleasant guy, doesn’t make waves. A man who can do that makes a good tool. Which is why Clifton just didn’t fit. Too volatile. The LT? Too much of a by-the-book guy, and O’Brian . . . He just plays straight for me. A good cop who takes pride in the job. You can’t take pride in what you abuse, in what you betray. Plus the wife, the family. Why struggle to pay the bills, give the kids the education if you’ve got this well to dip in?”

“You like him.”

“I guess. Delong needs the squad—they’re family, and he needs that dynamic. Clifton’s posturing, hanging out with the guys so he can brag whose chops he busted that day, and use that to get under a skirt when he can. Newman, he plods his way through, maybe has a drink after a long shift with his partner of the day, then goes home to his wife and dog.

“Grady, she’s a loner. Nobody’s there when she comes home. I know how that is. But she doesn’t live the job, that’s not it. If she did, she’s smart enough, savvy enough to be second grade by now—closer to making first—to work out of a more powerful unit, a sexier squad.” Eve tapped her fingers on Grady’s desk. “But she’s not and she doesn’t. Because too much attention makes it so some people look too close. She’s got something to hide.”

“So did you. Hacking your father to death when you were eight’s a big secret for a cop.”

“I didn’t remember it, not clearly. It wouldn’t have mattered if I had. I did live the job. I needed it like I needed to breathe. And Feeney wanted me—” She broke off, angled her head. “Someone wanted me. That was a first. Someone saw me, wanted me, was willing to invest in me. That was a rush. Maybe Ricker saw her. What if—” She broke off again, cursed.

“Cat’s on your ass,” Coltraine said.

Eve woke feeling Galahad’s paws kneading her ass. Then the considerable weight of him was gone. She rolled over and saw Roarke with his arms full of sulky cat.

“Sorry,” he told her. “He’s fat, but sneaky. He beat me to you.”

“Were you going to knead my ass?”

“I think of little else, night and day.” He sat beside her, stroking the cat. “I’m told you were called away from the party last night. Rod Sandy.”

“Yeah.” She sat up. “I don’t think anyone missed me especially, so—”

“I did.”

Now she smiled. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He leaned forward to kiss her.

“I guess I should ask if you had fun.”

“I was with a group of men, friends, in casinos, in strip joints of the highest, and the lowest, class.”

“You took Trueheart to a strip dive?”

“He almost glows in the dark when he blushes. It’s charming, actually. The boy also hit for over five grand on some ridiculous slot called Pirate Quest.”

“Five? Yo-ho, Trueheart.”

Roarke laughed. “And I’ve heard every variation of that ever since.”

“Oh my God. My sweet blushing Jesus, wait. Rewind. You took Mr. Mira to strip joints.”

“He’s a big boy, and enjoyed himself. He has a pair of pasties to prove it.”

“No, no, no.” She clamped her hands over her ears in defense. “I don’t want to hear Mr. Mira in the same sentence as pasties.”

“And he won about twelve hundred at craps. McNab came out two thousand, three hundred dollars, and eighty-five cents ahead. Precisely—which he informed us of often. Charles ended up down just over that. Feeney won about twenty-five dollars, keeping the reputation of his lucky shirt intact. Baxter broke even.”

“How about you, hot shot?”

“As it was my casino, if I win, I lose—in a matter of speaking. What about you? Did you have fun?” When she sat there, frowning, he flipped a finger down the dent in her chin. “That wasn’t a trick question.”

“I had to think about it. I have to say I did, in a weird way. I’m surprised. Then this morning, I end up running a breakfast meeting with the core group. Through no plan of mine. And Mavis puts her finger on the killer.”

“Mavis?”

“Yeah. I’ve got all these brains—I don’t mean Mavis is stupid, but I’ve got the police detective, the profiler, the ace reporter, and the doctor. And it’s the former grifter turned music disc star and mother who nails it. I’ll fill you in later if you want, but I guess I’ve got to go down and do whatever I’m supposed to do with everybody until they go the hell home.”