Forgotten in Death(105)

He handed her a glass, tapped his to it.

“You’ll have to do some house cleaning there.”

“He’ll be doing some of that before the sale. We discussed. It’s a good company and, after some adjustments, it’ll be a better one. Many details to work out, lawyers and accountants to weigh in, but we’ll come to terms.”

“Okay,” she said again. “Congratulations. How will this affect the partnership with Singer on any of their projects?”

“One of the details to work out. You’ve updated and adjusted your board and, knowing how you work, I see you’ve moved Elinor and J. Bolton Singer up your list.”

“They’re in the lead right now.”

“I’d love to hear why. How do you feel about a steak dinner?”

“I always feel very pro about steak dinners.”

“Let’s see to that, shall we? Then we can sit while this storm rolls out and the next—they’re promising another—rolls in, and you can tell me.”

She did, over a long meal, and an oddly relaxing one considering the subject matter and the rain.

“You’d suggested I ask around about J.B. Easy enough to bring it up in conversation with the murders. What we’ll call the old guard speaks of him as an entertaining sort, well-traveled, impeccable taste—a bit light on the business end of things, but game, if you will. I did get whiffs of a roving eye, which fit with what Bardov told you.”

Eve sat back with her wine. “I’m really glad I’m never going to have to scoop your eyes out and keep them in a glass box on the mantel.”

Roarke sat back with his own. “I’m trying to decide if I’m relieved or mildly disturbed to hear that.”

“You don’t take promises lightly. Number one Marriage Rule? It’s a promise.”

He reached over for her hand. “Why would my eye rove when everything I want’s in front of me?”

“You really do want the sex.”

“Well, yes, but that doesn’t make it any the less true. What I know of Marvinia shows a steady sort of woman, one who recognizes her privilege and uses it to help those who don’t have the same. She’s chosen her causes, and she works them. Diligently.”

The eyes she wouldn’t have to scoop out flicked over to her board.

“I realize that doesn’t take her off your board, but it’s difficult for me to reconcile the woman I know, however superficially, with someone who would take a part in any of this.”

“My take’s the same, but we’ll see.”

“Men like Singer? They always, always look beyond what they have. I have all this, why shouldn’t I have more? More money, more fun, more women. And in looking for more, they don’t really value what they have. Bardov? He’s no doubt done more wicked deeds in his life than Singer. But he’s a man who values what he has. Bardov has a code—however that falls short of yours. But Singer has none.”

“And the mother?”

Considering the rainy night, Roarke poured more wine. “The terms that come up, depending on the person speaking, are formidable, regal, cold, ruthless. She’s credited with keeping the company alive during a very difficult period.”

“Seems to me the company might have gone down, or certainly suffered some losses, if the CEO got caught in a scandal like having a kid with a woman half his age while still married. And say that woman half his age worked for him.”

Roarke nodded. “The possibility of an ugly, public divorce, of paternity and civil suits. It would have shaken the foundations a bit. I don’t think it would have taken the company under, but there would have been repercussions—and a lot of money to stanch wounds.”

“It plays for me,” Eve said. “I can almost see it. He tells her to come with him to the site, to see what he’s trying to do. Trying to build. Let’s just keep all this quiet, private. Don’t destroy what my family’s worked for. He could tell her he needed to stay married because they needed the money to help make the city whole again.”

Roarke nodded, sipped his wine. “Trying the ‘This is so much bigger than you and me.’”

“But I don’t think he meant to let her live. He had to have done the prep. He did need money, and had already tapped Bardov. He couldn’t afford the scandal, the loss of revenue, the piles of legal fees.”

“And it would make him as cold as his mother.”

“Steel rod up her ass,” Eve commented. “And she’s proud of it. Plus, I get vanity, okay? But it seems to me when you’re a hundred and whatever, you might want to ease up on getting your skin stretched so tight it could split open if you sneezed.”

“That’s an image,” Roarke replied.

“I didn’t like her,” Eve admitted. “But that, the steel rod and the stretched skin, doesn’t make her a killer. It was the attitude, and the dynamic between her and her son. I’m betting she helped, or encouraged, or even told Singer what he had to do. What I know, absolutely, is neither of them are going to enjoy their time in the box, even with their fleet of fancy lawyers.”

“My money is, as always, on you.”

“Wicker didn’t enjoy his time. I haven’t told you about that one. Reeled him right in when—”