Golden in Death(14)
The man never missed.
And there he was, back from whatever predawn meeting he’d scheduled, sitting on the sofa in a perfectly tailored suit the color of moonless midnight offset by a shirt nearly as magical a blue as his eyes. His tie married that blue with paler tones in thin stripes.
The cat sat with him, content to have his head scratched by those clever fingers while Roarke drank coffee and watched the morning stock reports scroll by on-screen.
“I thought to wake you, but you got an early start.”
“A lot going on.” Since he’d programmed a pot, she poured coffee from the table into her mug. “And I may have to browbeat Dickhead for results.”
Dick Berenski, chief lab tech, had skills—and a thirst for a good bribe.
“What’ll it be this time?” Roarke wondered as she moved by him into her closet. “Single malt scotch, box seats?”
“Browbeat,” she repeated from the depths of her closet. “No bribe. If he even hints at one over this, I may have to arrest myself for felony assault.”
“I’ll stand your bail.”
In the closet, she thought of the interviews, the morgue, the lab, and all that might ray out from them. Too many clothes, too many choices.
Why couldn’t everything just be black or brown?
“If I were interviewing grieving employees and likely family as well,” Roarke said conversationally from the bedroom, “I’d go with somber. But not full black,” he added even as Eve reached for black pants. “I’d leave black to those in mourning.”
Brown, she thought. Brown was somber. She started to reach for brown pants, pulled back again. Thought, Shit.
Gray, maybe gray because it was almost black. But not black.
And she didn’t want to think about it anymore.
It took longer than it should have, and she dressed in the closet to avoid having Roarke exchange one or all of her choices for something else.
Something, no doubt, better. But still.
When she stepped out—gray pants, darker gray boots, a thin navy sweater, holding a gray jacket (she’d spotted the navy buttons, the navy leather cuffs on the sleeves, trim on the pockets), he already had breakfast under warming trays.
“A very somber and dignified choice,” he told her. “And still authoritative and fashionable. Well done.”
“Bite me.” She tossed the jacket over a chair, strapped on her weapon harness. “It took twice as long as black. You’re wearing a black suit,” she pointed out.
“Indigo, actually, but close enough. It suits, we’ll say, my day’s agenda.”
“What planet are you buying?”
“While not buying Mars, as yet,” he said with a smile, “I do have some business regarding the colony. But prior, I’ll attend the first staff meeting at An Didean later this morning. After which, we’ll have a secondary meeting including some of the staff of Dochas, as we’ll want them working together as needs be.”
She glanced over. “You could, potentially, have minors who come to Dochas for shelter transferred to the school.”
“That’s a hope.”
She sat beside him. “It’s a good thing, an all-around good thing. You said when we were in Italy everything’s on schedule.”
“And so it is.” He lifted the warmers.
No oatmeal, Eve noticed—happily. Though she had a feeling the little dish didn’t contain fruit and crunchy stuff over ice cream, but yogurt. Still, the omelets and bacon could make up for it.
“And Rochelle, she’s working out?”
“Brilliantly. She’ll mourn her brother for some time yet.” He touched Eve’s hand. “But you gave her and her family closure. She told me during a brief conversation yesterday that she thinks of him when she’s in the school, thinks what a difference it would have made in his life, and how proud he would be she’s a part of it.”
“She moved in with Crack.”
“She did, yes.” Amused at her tone—not disapproving so much as baffled—he quirked an eyebrow. “Problem?”
“No. Just getting used to it.” She picked up the yogurt to get it out of the way.
It wasn’t actually horrible.
“And while we’re, more or less, on the subject of An Didean, I told you Jake and his bandmates have volunteered to guest instruct from time to time. Music and songwriting.”
“Nadine’s rock star’s okay.”
“He is, and our Nadine, in addition to taking one of our students, the inestimable Quilla, as intern, will also come in now and then to talk about journalism, screen writing, writing in general.”
She’d be good at it, Eve thought. Nadine knew her stuff, in and out and sideways. “You’re pulling in a star-studded crew.”
The yogurt wasn’t horrible, but the omelet was terrific.
“I like to think so. We’ll have guest chefs, artists, scientists, business types—”
“Are you going to guest star?”
“From time to time. Vocalists, designers.”
“Mavis and Leonardo.”
“Among others. Engineers, architects, programmers, doctors. Lawyers.”
She grunted at that.
He smiled, sipped coffee. “We want a well-rounded curriculum, as well as care, shelter, nutrition, safety. Part of that curriculum and exposure needs the law. All areas of it. Who better than Lieutenant Dallas to guest lecture on police work?”