Visions in Death (In Death #19)(18)

"Let me know when she's ready, will you? We're all excited about the new baby." Moira smiled at Peabody. "It's good to meet you both, and I hope you won't be strangers. My very best to Roarke," she said to Eve and stepped out of their way.

"Moira's brilliant," Louise said as she led the way to the next level. "She's making a big difference here. I've been able to—ha—dragoon some of the best therapists, doctors, psychiatrists, and counselors in the city. I bless the day you stomped into my clinic downtown, Dallas. It was the start of the twisty path that led me here."

She opened a door, gestured them inside. "Not to mention leading me to Charles." Briskly, she walked to a cabinet, and opened it to reveal a minifridgie. "Which reminds me, we're setting up that dinner party I keep trying to pull off. Night after tomorrow, Charles's place—it's cozier than mine—eight o'clock. Suit you and McNab, Peabody?"

"Sure. Sounds like fun."

"I've cleared it with Roarke." She handed both Eve and Peabody a bottled protein booster.

She'd have preferred ice-cold water and an open window so she could lean out, just breathe. "We're in the middle of an investigation."

"Understood. Doctors and cops learn to be flexible and live with canceled social engagements. Barring emergencies, we'll expect you. Now sit, drink your protein. Lemon-flavored."

Because it was quicker than arguing and she could use a boost, Eve opened the bottle and chugged.

The office was a big step up from the one Louise kept at her clinic. Roomier, more fancily furnished. Efficient, as you'd expect, but with style.

"Swankier digs here," Eve commented.

" Roarkeinsisted, and I confess, he didn't have to twist my arm. One of the elements we're aiming for here is comfort. Hominess. We want these women, these kids, to feel at ease."

"You've done a good job." Peabody sat and savored her drink. "It feels like a home."

"Thanks." Cocking her head, Louise studied Eve. "Well, you look better. Color's back."

"Thanks, Doc." Eve dumped the empty container in the recycler slot. "So. Celina Sanchez."

"Ah, Celina. Fascinating woman. I've known her for years. We went to school together for a couple of years. Her family's loaded, like mine. Very, very conservative, like mine. She's the black sheep. Like me. So, naturally enough, we're friends. Why are you looking into her?"

"She paid me a visit this morning. Claims she's a psychic."

"She is." Louise frowned, and got herself a bottle of Fizzy water. "A very gifted sensitive, who practices professionally. Which is why she's the black sheep. Her family disapproves of and is embarrassed by her work. As I said, very conservative. Why did she come to see you? Celina specializes in private consult, and party work."

"She claims she witnessed a murder."

"My God. Is she all right?"

"She wasn't there. She had a vision."

"Oh. That must've been horrible for her."

"So you buy it. Just like..." Eve snapped her fingers.

"If Celina came to see you, told you she'd seen a murder, she saw one." Thoughtfully, Louise sipped at her water. "She doesn't hide her gift, but she keeps it all very professional, and well, you could say surface."

"Define surface," Eve prompted.

"She enjoys what she does—what she has, and she's geared it toward entertaining more than counseling, let's say. She keeps it light. I've never known her to get involved with anything like this. Who was killed?"

"A woman was raped, strangled, and mutilated in Central Park last night."

"I heard about that." Louise sat behind a glossy and feminine desk. "There weren't a lot of details. Your case?"

"Yeah. Celina had a lot of the details that weren't released. You're vouching for her?"

"I am. Yes, I'd believe her, no question. Can she help?"

"Yet to be determined. What do you know about her, on a personal front?"

Louise lifted the water bottle again, and took her time drinking. "I don't like dishing about my friends, Dallas."

"I'm a cop. I don't dish."

Louise blew out a breath. "Well, as I said, she's from a wealthy, conservative family who doesn't approve of her. It takes considerable strength of character to buck your family." She toasted herself, drank. "Her father's side is aristocratic Mexico, though he moved to Wisconsin for several years for some business or other. They live in Mexico now, and Celina bolted for New York, made it her place while we were still in college. As much, I'd say, because she wanted the city as because this particular city was several thousand miles from her family, yet on the same continent."

She shrugged, considered. "I'd say she's a straightforward, goal-oriented type. She studied parapsychology in college, and related subjects. She wanted to know everything she could about her gift. For a sensitive, she's a logical, somewhat linear woman. She's loyal. It takes loyalty to keep friends for a decade or so. Ethical. I've never known her to intrude, psychically, or to use her talent to exploit. Did she know the woman who was killed?"

"Not, she said, in this particular life."