Strangers in Death (In Death #26)(88)

“That’s different. Those things were for mothers of kids in the programs. I’m a goddamn good mother,” she snapped, pointing at her own partially concealed br**sts. “Nobody can say different.”

“No one is,” Roarke said smoothly as Eve appeared to be giving him the line. “But you did socialize with Ava Anders.”

The sound she made combined snort with Bronx cheer. “If you can call it that.”

“What would you call it?”

“Same kind of arrangement I just concluded upstairs.”

“She f**k you, Cassie?” Eve asked.

“Not literally. I got no problem doing the girl-on-girl if the fee’s right, but I don’t think she’s into that.” A shrug shifted the robe so her right breast peeked out coyly. “She wanted something, I gave it, and I got paid. That’s how I look at it.”

“What did she want?”

“I figure I got the invite so she could show how—what’s the word—democratic she is. And I figure that’s bull. But my kid? She’s a freaking jewel, so I can take the bull or anything else gets thrown at me if it’s for her.”

“What did Ava throw at you?”

“Look, I gotta get in costume. It’s my last round this shift, and I can’t afford—”

“You’ll be compensated.” Roarke remained relaxed, answered his wife’s stony stare with the mildest of glances while Cassie studied them both.

“I can earn five hundred on the last round.”

“Talk about bull,” Eve began.

“You’ll be compensated,” Roarke repeated. “Answer the lieutenant, stop playing it out, and you’ll get the five.”

Those hard eyes narrowed. “You ain’t no cop.”

“A fact for which I give thanks daily. You can answer the question the cop asks and get the five, or well, you’ll be answering them anyway in less comfortable surroundings and get nothing. And since you’ll be squeezing in the round after we leave in any case, you’ve a chance at five clear in your pocket.”

“Not a cop, but not stupid.” Another shrug, but Cassie followed this one with an absent tug that closed the front of her robe again. Or nearly. “Okay, it’s like this. I take Gracie, my kid, to the ice rink in the park. Been doing that since she was about three. Even I can see she’s got a knack for it, and she freaking loves it. I can’t afford rink time, or not much of it, so she only got to skate in the winter. And good skates, good lessons, they’re out of orbit. I applied for the Anders program, and she got in. Man, it was like I’d given her the world. I’d do anything to make sure she keeps it.”

“Anything Ava asked?”

“Look, bitch wants to know how I handle tricks, I’m not going to get razzed about it. She wants to get a peek into the dirty, no skin off mine. She figures I owe her volunteer time, I work it in. My kid gets good skates, nice skating clothes, solid rink time. She wants to pretend her old man’s interested in the dirty, what’s it to me?”

“Pretend?”

Smiling, Cassie ran a finger tip up and down the front of her robe. “I know when I’m being played. These little chats were for her benefit. Maybe she wanted to try some shit out with her old man. Couldn’t hurt, right? Except he’s dead, right? Died doing the dirty. She do him?”

“She was out of the country at the time.”

“Lucky for her, I guess.”

“You don’t like her one bit,” Roarke commented.

“Not one small bit.” Cassie held up her thumb and forefinger a fraction apart, then slapped them closed. “She lords it over—or ladies it over—you. Covers it up with the ‘we’re all part of the big happy Anders family,’ but she expects you to do plenty of bowing and scraping. I can give a fat ass**le a bj upstairs, I can bow and scrape. I get compensated.”

“Did she share information about her sex life with you?”

“She said her old man was into the dirty and the strange and she wasn’t, but more subtle than that. Feeling me out was my sense. I half-expected her to hire me to do him so she could watch and get pointers. Thing is, I don’t think she liked me any more than I liked her and we both knew it. Both knew we were shoveling the shit.”

“What did you have to do for her to earn the private coach?”

“I pay for the coach.” Cassie tapped her thumb between her br**sts. “I pay.”

“You don’t earn enough juice working here to cover private coaching.”

“I get a lot of tips.”

“What’s that I hear?” Eve cocked her head. “Oh yeah, that’s the sound of five hundred sucking down the drain.”

“Goddamn it.” Cassie pushed to her feet, stared hard at Eve. “This is about the murder, right? That’s big-time. You’re big-time. Christ knows you are,” she said to Roarke. “I need some assurance you’re not going to shake me down over small-time.”

“If you’re working off book, I’m not interested in rousting you for it.”

Cassie took a moment to stare, to study, then apparently satisfied by what she read on Eve’s face, nodded. “I do some private. I’m not licensed for private. And I do the coach’s father for free, every week. It’s like a barter, cuts down on the fee. He’s a nice guy, actually. Can’t get out much ’cause he busted himself up bad about thirty years ago. He’s gimpy, got scars. Even if Anders offered coaching, I’d keep it how it is, because it’s working. And I gotta have a part in providing for my kid. If you’ve got some cop idea that I was doing Anders, and screwed up the deal so he kicked, that’s off, way off. I’m home nights. I don’t leave my kid home alone. Not ever. You ask anybody. You want to look at somebody, you ought to take another look at the wife. Make damn double sure she wasn’t there.”