Forgotten in Death(104)

She braked at a light, watched the stream of pedestrians splash by.

“Maybe he told himself he was taking her up there to just scare her, but if so, he lied to himself. He had the weapon, he had the bricks. He had to have those bricks waiting.”

“He would have known the status of that building, the cellar,” Mira continued. “He was in charge of the company—at least in name—and, yes, could have ordered bricks.”

“So he covers himself by getting rid of her, walling her up. But his mother had to know.”

She streamed through the green light, made her turn where a skinny guy in a hoodie hawked cheap umbrellas for inflated prices.

“I’m not sure he could’ve done it if she didn’t give him the nod. And she’d have known about the order of bricks, the wall, because he was mostly name only.”

“It’s very tidy, actually.” After using the vanity mirror to check her face, Mira took out a tube of lip dye. She painted it on with experienced precision.

“If she didn’t have family or close friends,” Mira continued as she took out some sort of compact and blotted what Eve considered a pretty perfect face with invisible powder, “or that family and friends didn’t know she was in New York at that time, if she didn’t reveal the name of the baby’s father, tidier yet.”

“I need to shut down those ifs.”

“There was always a reason the remains were found on a Singer property—or what was a Singer property.”

Once again Mira reached into her bag that apparently held all things, took out a little tube, and uncapped the rolling ball at the top. Eve caught a subtle whiff of spring as Mira dabbed it on pulse points.

“Your theory proposes a very solid reason.”

“Just have to prove it.” Eve pulled up in front of Du Vin. “I’ve got her completed sketch now, so I’m running it, and we’ll find her. Once we do, I’ll find the connection.”

“Send me the rest of what you have. I’m interested. I’ll read it over later, see if I can add anything.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

“A fair trade for a ride on a very stormy night. Dennis would love to see you if you want to join us for a drink.”

“I want to keep on this, but tell him I said hi.”

Mira reached into the Bag That Held All Things, pulled out a collapsible umbrella. She opened the door, popped the red-and-white-striped umbrella, and shot back a smile.

“Best to Roarke,” she said as she dashed out on her red-and-white-striped heels.

“Her umbrella matches her shoes.” Eve shook her head. “I mean, who thinks of that?”

Pondering it, she inched her way home in the deluge.





21





Since she didn’t have a Bag That Held All Things, or an umbrella that matched her footwear, Eve sprinted through the rain to the front door of home.

She slammed the door behind her on the next boom of thunder, then raked her fingers through her wet hair.

“You have an umbrella in the storage unit in your car,” Summerset informed her.

Did she know that? Had she forgotten that? Either way.

“It’s only water. Actual humans don’t dissolve in the rain like zombies.”

“Don’t put that there, it’s damp.” He snatched her topper from the newel post. “And, in lore, zombies don’t dissolve in the rain.”

“They should.”

She jogged up the stairs with the cat keeping pace.

In her office, she checked the facial recognition run. With no results as yet, she programmed coffee before updating her board and book.

When Roarke came in, Galahad took a moment to go over and greet him, rubbing his pudgy body against the leg of Roarke’s perfect suit.

Eve noticed Roarke’s hair remained dry.

“I bet you remembered an umbrella.”

“It’s a night for one.” So saying, he pulled open the doors to the little balcony. The room filled with the sound of driving rain and a crackling snap of thunder. “And a fine storm it is.”

Then he walked over, pulled her in, and kissed her like a man going off to war.

When her brain stopped spinning, she drew back. “Okay.”

“It puts me in the mood to cuddle up with my wife and have wild sex.” He looked at the board over her shoulder. “Which I see isn’t a current option.”

“It could be later.”

“Mmm.” He shifted so they stood hip-to-hip, his arm around her waist as he studied the sketches. “So there she is. No name to go with her yet?”

“Working on it.”

“She’s lucky to have you. As am I. We’ll have some wine while you tell me about it.”

She watched him as he went over, chose a wine. “You had a good day.”

“I had a fairly brilliant day, which ended with a verbal agreement to buy Bardov Construction.”

“He really did it. He really wants to sell out to you.”

“He does.” Roarke poured wine, rich and red, into glasses. “He admires you.”

“Step off.”

“No, I believe he does, and sincerely. Just as I believe he’s quite sincere about retiring. There may be at least a minor connection between the two.”