Vengeance in Death

CHAPTER TEN

"Recorder on, Peabody."

Eve signaled the uniform to step away from the door, then used the master code to access the locks. She entered a parlor, lush and spacious, with a bank of fresh flowers in brilliant whites and blues sweeping beneath a waist-high wall of windows.

The spires and spears of New York rose beyond it, with the air traffic light and meandering. The blasting billboards that populated the West Side were banned here in the more exclusive Upper East.

Typical of most things Roarke owned, the hotel suite was beautifully appointed – thick cushions covered with jewel-toned silks and brocades, highly polished woods, carpet deep enough to wade in. An enormous basket of fruit and a bottle of sauvignon blanc, likely a welcome-to-the-Palace staple, sat on the pond sized coffee table.

The fruit had been riffled through, the wine opened. Jennie had had a few moments to enjoy the luxury, Eve thought, before she'd been lured away to death.

As far as Eve could see, nothing else had been disturbed. The entertainment and communication center was still discreetly tucked behind a silk screen of tropical birds, and the mood screen covering most of one wall was blank.

"Dallas, Lieutenant Eve and Peabody, Officer Delia commencing search of victim O'Leary's suite in Palace Hotel. We'll start in the bedroom, Peabody."

Eve crossed over and entered a room where the sunlight filled a trio of windows and the peacock blue spread on a huge platform bed was neatly turned down for the night. Gold-foiled mints rested on plump pillows.

"Make a note to track down the maid who was on duty last night for this room. See what she touched, what she noticed." As she spoke, Eve moved to the closet. Inside were three blouses, two pair of slacks, one day dress in plain blue cotton, and a cocktail suit in cream of an inexpensive fabric blend. Two pair of shoes were neatly lined beneath.

Routinely Eve checked the pockets, the inside of the shoes, ran a hand over the top shelf. "Nothing here. Dresser drawers?''

"Underwear, hose, a cotton nightgown, and a small black evening bag, beaded."

"She brought her best party dress." Eve brushed her hand over the flounced hem of the cocktail suit. "And never got the chance to wear it. She took the time to unpack – single suitcase in closet – brought enough clothes for three or four days. Jewelry?"

"I haven't found any so far."

"She might have carried it with her. She'd have had something special for her evening wear. Run her 'link for incoming and outgoing. I'll check the bath."

The bath offered a jet tub big enough to party in. A bottle of the hotel's complimentary bath foam sat on the lip. So she'd used the tub, Eve mused. It would have been hard to resist, she imagined, and Jennie had been waiting for contact.

Nervous? Eve wondered. Yes, she'd have been a little nervous. She hadn't seen Roarke for some time. She'd have worried about how she'd changed, aged, what he would see when they met again.

A woman would always worry about what a man like Roarke saw when he looked at her. They'd been lovers, she mused, studying the tidily arranged toiletries and cosmetics on the shell pink counter. Jennie would remember the way he'd touched her, the way he'd tasted. A woman wouldn't forget the power of a lover like Roarke.

And if she'd been human she would have wondered – hoped that he would touch her again. Had she submerged herself in that fragrant, frothy water imagining that?

Of course she had.

They'd been friends as well. Sharing laughs, perhaps secrets and dreams. They'd been young together, and foolish together. That was a link that was never completely broken.

And he'd summoned her, asked her to fly across an ocean.

She hadn't hesitated.

She'd known there was trouble, but she'd dropped everything and come, and had waited. And had died.

"Dallas?"

Eve shook herself, turned to Peabody. "What?"

"Nothing on the 'link, but I had the fax replay transmissions. You'll want to see this."

The minifax was tucked inside a small, slanttop desk. It hummed patiently, waiting the next command. Peabody picked up the single sheet of paper it had spilled out and handed it to Eve.

Jennie, my dear,

Roarke wishes to convey his thanks for you agreeing to make this unexpected trip. We hope it hasn't caused you any great inconvenience. We trust your rooms are satisfactory. If you have any needs or desires that haven't been met, you have only to contact the concierge.

You're aware Roarke is concerned for your welfare. It's vital that he speak with you privately, and without the knowledge of the woman he chose to marry. He has information he wants to pass on to you as soon as possible. It's imperative that you meet him, and that you tell no one, not even those you trust, where you 're going. Please go to the corner of Fifth and Sixty-second at five p.m. A black sedan with New York plates and a uniformed driver will meet you. The driver will escort you and has full instructions.

Forgive the intrigue, Jennie. A man in Roarke's position must be discreet. We ask that you destroy this communication.

Yours, Summerset

"Clever boy," Eve murmured. "He gives her enough to be sure she goes along. He tells her to get rid of the copy of the fax, but he doesn't tell her to wipe the machine. He has to figure we'll check it, and he wants us to find this."

"It's still circumstantial." Peabody frowned at the communication. "Anybody can send a fax, put any name on it. He's blocked the return code."

"Yeah, on the hard copy, but I'll bet a year's pay that when we hand the unit over to McNab, he finesses the code, and that the code matches one of Roarke's fax lines. Bag it," she ordered, passing the sheet to Peabody. "Our boy drove the pickup car, waltzed her right into the room on the West Side. Then he took her down, physically or with drugs. The ME will tell us that part. Then he took his time setting it up. Everything he needs is in the car. Maybe he owns it, maybe he rented it. Slim chance he boosted it for the day, but we'll check on reports of stolen black sedans."

She paused, took a slow survey of the room again."Calling the sweepers in here's a waste of the taxpayers' money, but we'll go by the book. I'll call it in, and run the sedan for what it's worth. You take the minifax to McNab at my home office. I'll meet you there when I can."

"Where are you going?"

"To ask another favor," Eve said as she walked out.

It was waiting to rain, and the air was moist and cool, the wind freshening. A few stubborn mums continued to bloom, adding unexpected splashes of color and scent. There was a fountain where water bubbled over the petals and stems of copper and brass water lilies. Well across the rolling lawn and sheltered by tall trees stood the big stone house, glowing in the dimming afternoon sun.

Dr. Mira sighed. Such a place was built for peace and power, she thought. She wondered how often Eve settled for the first, how often she allowed herself to enjoy it.

"I've been expecting your call," she began, watching as Eve stared at the house. "I heard about the third murder."

"Her name was Jennie O'Leary. It sounds like a song, doesn't it?" Surprised that she'd said such a thing, Eve shook her head. "She and Roarke were friends. More than friends once."

"I see. And the other two victims, they were both from Ireland?"

"He knew them, all of them." She made herself turn.

Mira was tidy, as always, though the wind was fluttering her short, soft brown hair. Her suit was a deep green today, a change from the usual quiet colors she wore. Her eyes were patient and filled with compassion. And understanding.

Eve thought she looked every bit as efficient here, sitting on a stone bench under the denuded branches of an oak, as she did in her elegant office. She was the best criminal and behavioral psychologist New York, and possibly the country, had to offer.

"I appreciate you agreeing to meet me here."

"I remember the grounds from your wedding." Mira smiled. It was difficult to nudge Eve over that first hurdle and into trust. "It's a magnificent space. Carefully planned, lovingly tended."

"I don't get out here much, I guess." Feeling awkward, Eve jammed her hands in her pockets. "I forget to look out the windows when I'm working here."

"You're a focused individual, Eve. That's why you're an excellent cop. You don't come out here often, but I have no doubt you could describe the grounds exactly. You observe instinctively."

"Cop's eyes." Eve shrugged. "Curse or blessing, who knows?"

"You're troubled." Her feelings for Eve always went beyond the professional and tugged at Mira's heart. "Are you going to let me help?"

"It's not me. It's not about me."

But Mira thought it was, partly. The woman inside the cop was disturbed at facing the dead that Roarke had once been intimate with. "Then you're sleeping well? Undisturbed."

"Mostly." Eve turned away again. She didn't want to delve into that area. Mira was one of the few people who knew the details of her past, the memories that came swimming back unexpectedly, the nightmares that plagued and terrified. "Let's let that rest, okay?"

"All right."

"I'm worried about Roarke." She hadn't meant to say it, and regretted it instantly. "That's personal," she continued, turning around again. "I didn't ask you to meet me to discuss that."

Didn't you? Mira thought, but only nodded. "Why did you ask me to meet you?"

"I need a consult on the case. I need a profile. I need help." The discomfort of her position showed in anger in her eyes. "I didn't want to do this, in official surroundings because I'm going to ask you to skirt some of the rules. You're under no obligation to do so, and I'll understand perfectly if you not only refuse but decide to report this request."

Mira's expression, mild and interested, didn't alter by a blink. "Why don't you explain the situation to me, Eve, and let me make up my own mind?"

"The three murders are connected, and the probability that they're linked to a… series of events that took place several years ago is high. The motive is revenge. It's my opinion that Roarke is primary target and that Summerset is being used to get to him. There's circumstantial evidence attached to each murder that points to Summerset, and that evidence is piling up along with the bodies. If I believed he was responsible I'd close the cage door on him myself without a minute's regret, no matter what he means to Roarke. But it's a setup, cleverly planned and executed, and just obvious enough to be insulting to my intelligence."

"You'd like me to do a profile on the killer, and examine Summerset for violent tendencies, unofficially."

"No, I want those official. Black and white, by the book. I want to be able to turn them in to Whitney. I haven't given him a hell of a lot else."

"I'll be happy to do both. You've only to clear it with your commander, get me the data. I can shift it to priority for you."

"I'd appreciate it."

"And the rest?"

Eve's palms went damp. Impatient, she swiped them on the thighs of her slacks. "I have information that is vital to the investigation, and your profile, that I can't – no, that I won't – record in full. I'll only share this information with you under the scope of doctor-patient confidentiality. That protects you, doesn't it?"

Mira lifted her hands, folded her fingers. "Anything you tell me as a patient is privileged. I can't report it."

"And you're protected? Personally, professionally?" Eve insisted.

"I am, yes. How many people are you determined to protect here, Eve?"

"The ones who matter."

Mira smiled now, a full bloom. "Thank you." She held out a hand. "Sit, and tell me."

Eve hesitated, then took the hand Mira offered. "You… when I remembered what had happened to me in that room in Dallas. When I remembered my father coming in drunk, raping me again, hurting me again. When I remembered killing him that night, and I told you, you said it was pointless, even wrong, to punish the child. You said" – she had to clear her throat – "you said I'd killed a monster, and that I'd made myself into something worthwhile, something I had no right to destroy because of what I'd done before."

"You don't still doubt that?"

Eve shook her head, though there were times, there were still times she doubted it. "Did you mean it? Do you really believe there are times, there are circumstances when taking the life of a monster is justified?"

"The state believed so until less than two decades ago when capital punishment was, yet again, abolished."

"I'm asking you, as a person, a doctor, a woman."

"Yes, I believe it. To survive, to protect your life or the life of another."

"Only in self-defense?" Eve's eyes were intense on Mira's, reading every flicker. "Is that the only justification?"

"I couldn't generalize in such a manner, Eve. Each circumstance, each person goes to defining the situation."

"It used to be black and white for me," Eve said quietly. "The law." She held up one fist. "The breaking of it." Then the other. On a long breath, she tapped the two fists together, held them close. "Now… I need to tell you about Marlena."

Mira didn't interrupt. She asked no questions, made no comments. It took Eve twenty minutes to tell it all. She was thorough, and made the effort to be dispassionate. Facts only, without opinion. And when she was finished, she was drained.

They sat in silence, while a few birds chattered, the fountain gurgled, and bruised clouds drifted over the sun.

"To lose a child that way," Mira commented at length. "There is nothing worse to be faced. I can't tell you the men who did that to her deserved to die, Eve. But I can tell you, as a woman, as a mother, that if she had been my child, I would have celebrated their deaths, and I would have sworn my gratitude to their executioner. That isn't scientific, it isn't the law. But it's human."

"I don't know if I'm shielding Roarke because I believe what he did was justice or because I love him."

"Why can't it be both? Oh, you complicate things, Eve."

"I complicate things." She nearly laughed, and pushed up from the bench. "I have three murders that I can't investigate in an open, logical manner unless I want to see my husband locked away for the rest of this life. I've involved my aide, an e-detective I barely know, and you in the duplicity, and I'm busting my ass to keep that idiot Summerset out of lockup. And I complicate things."

"I'm not saying circumstances aren't complicated, but there's no reason for you to internalize as much as you do. There's no need to try to segregate your heart from your intellect."

Mira brushed a speck of dust from her skirt and spoke briskly. "Now, from my end of it, I'd think it best if you make an official request for Summerset to be examined. In my office, tomorrow if possible. I'll do a complete testing scan and copy the results to you and Commander Whitney. If you can get me the data – official and otherwise – on your killer, I'll begin a profile right away."

"The unofficial data can't be included in your workup."

"Eve." Now Mira laughed, a light, musical sound as charming as the fountain. "If I'm not skilled enough to slide such things into a psychiatric profile without being specific, then I'd best turn in my license to practice. Believe me, you'll have your profile, and, if you'll forgive me, it's highly unlikely my work will be questioned by anyone."

"I need it fast. He doesn't wait long between rounds."

"I'll have it to you as quickly as possible. Accuracy is every bit as important as speed. Now, on a personal level, would you like me to speak with Roarke?"

"Roarke?"

"I can read through even your closely guarded lines, Eve. You're worried about him. About his emotional state. You think he blames himself."

"I don't know if he would talk to you. I don't know how he's going to feel about the fact that I've told you all this. Emotionally, he'll cope." She began to worry her wedding ring around and around her finger with her thumb. "My more immediate concern is his safety. I can't predict when the last round's coming. All I know is that Roarke's the finale."

Eve shook that off, knowing that fear would cloud her thinking. "If you'd come in now, I'll give you what I have, and we'll pin Summerset for testing tomorrow."

"All right." Mira rose and to Eve's surprise hooked arms with her. "And I'd love a cup of tea."

"I'm sorry, I should have thought. I'm lousy at the hostess thing."

"I'd hoped we'd progressed beyond the point of hostess and guest and into friendship. Look, isn't that Mavis and her gentle giant getting out of a cab at your front door?"

Eve looked over. Who else but Mavis Freestone would be decked out in pink leather and green feathers on a weekday evening? Beside her, Leonardo looked huge and magnificent in an ankle skimming robe the color of good bordeaux. As fond as she was of both of them, Eve gusted out a sigh.

"What the hell am I supposed to do with them?"

"I'd say you're going to take a short break and be entertained." With a laugh, Mira lifted an arm in a wave. "I know I am."

"So, you know, like this is all so bogus in the extreme." Mavis helped herself to a glass of wine, gesturing with it as she clicked around the room on four-inch heels. Tiny golden fish swam within their clear spikes. "Leonardo and me, we've caught most of the deets on the screen. I'd've been by before." She gulped wine, gestured again. "But I've got gigs scheduled back-to-back to prep for the recording session next month."

"She's magnificent." Leonardo beamed at her, his wide, golden face glowing with love.

"Oh, Leonardo." She wrapped her arms around him, as far as they would go. "You always say that."

"It's always true. Turtle dove."

She giggled, then spun around, the feathers decorating her breasts and shoulders fluttering. "So, anyhow, we came to give Summerset our moral support."

"I'm sure he appreciates it." Since she could see no immediate escape, Eve reached for the wine herself. "Dr. Mira?"

"I'll wait for the tea, thank you. Mavis, is that one of Leonardo's designs you're wearing?"

"Absolutely. Frigid, isn't it?" She turned a circle in a flourish and had her currently lavender locks bouncing. "You should see the mag rags he's got going for spring. He's got a show in Milan coming up."

"I'd love to show you a preview of my corporate woman line, Dr. Mira," Leonardo offered.

"Well…" Mira ran her tongue around her teeth, eyeing Mavis's feathers, then, catching Eve's exaggerated eye roll, chuckled. "I don't know if I'm as creative a model as Mavis."

"Just a different style." Leonardo's smile was sweet and guileless. "You'd want classic lines, cool colors. I have some marvelous linen in a dusky pink that would be perfect for you."

"Dusky pink," Mira repeated, intrigued.

"Leonardo does the conservative jazz really well,'' Mavis chimed in. "Sexy lady of the manor, you know."

"I might just have a look at that." Sexy lady of the manor, Mira thought and smiled.

"There he is!" Mavis made a leap forward as Summerset rolled in a cart laden with a tea service, neat squares of apple pie, and rounds of frosted cakes. His color rose when Mavis locked herself and her feathers around him. "We're behind you, Summerset. Don't you worry about a thing. Eve's the best there is. She took care of everything when I was in trouble. She'll look out for you."

"I'm sure the lieutenant will settle the matter." His gaze flicked to Eve. "One way or the other."

"Come on, lighten the load." Mavis squeezed him. "Have a drink. Want some wine?"

His eyes softened as his gaze returned to Mavis's eager face. "Thank you, but I have duties."

"He doesn't know if he wants to pat her head or jump her bones," Eve muttered to Mira, causing the doctor to muffle a laugh into a cough.

"Roarke will be down momentarily," Summerset continued. "He's completing an interstellar transmission."

Mavis caught up to him in the hall, tugged on his arm until he stopped and turned. "Listen, I know what you're feeling. Been there, you know." She offered a quick, crooked smile. "When I was scared, when they put me in a cage and part of me thought they'd just leave me there, forever, you know, I got through it because I knew Dallas wouldn't let it happen. I knew she'd do it for me, no matter what it took."

"Her affection for you is one of her finest qualities."

"And you figure because the two of you don't rub smooth she'll let things slide?" Her eyes, colored to match her hair were round and sad. "That's jerk thinking, Summerset. Dallas'll work till she drops to do right by you, and I figure you know it. If somebody came after you, she'd step between and take the hit, because that's who she is. I figure you know that, too."

"I've done nothing." He spoke stiffly now, refusing to acknowledge any shame. "I would expect an efficient detective to deduce that, whatever her personal feelings."

"You're down," Mavis said gently. "You want to ventilate sometime, just give me a call." She teetered onto her toes to kiss his cheek. "I'll bring the brew."

"Your young man is very fortunate in you," Summerset managed then hurried down the hallway and disappeared through an open door.

"That was well done. Mavis." Roarke continued down the steps now and crossed to her to take her hands.

"He's bummed flat. Who can blame him?"

"And who could stay flat with you around?"

"It's like my mission to bubble things up. Let's see what we can do with the group in the parlor." She slid a smile up at him. "Am I staying for dinner?"

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

Despite the company, Eve managed to slip away long enough to dismiss McNab and Peabody, gather their reports and file them for later view. She cornered Summerset and, after a nasty little conversation, convinced him it would be in his best interest to report to Dr. Mira's office at eleven a.m. for testing.

At the end of it, her head throbbed badly enough for her to resort to a dose of painkiller. Roarke found her in the bathroom, scowling at the pills palmed in her hand.

"It must be unbearable, for you to even consider a pill."

"It's been a long day," she said with a shrug, and dumped the pills back into their tube. "But I can handle it."

"We'll run a bath. You need to relax."

"I've got work."

"Eve." Firmly, he took her arms, turned her to face him. "This is the part of your job I hate most. The shadows it puts under your eyes, and in them."

"I don't have a lot of time on this one."

"Time enough to take an hour for yourself." Still watching her, he began to rub at the knots in her shoulders.

"I have to read the reports, extrapolate from them for the official record. I keep hitting walls." There were nerves in her voice, and hearing them irritated her. "I haven't been able to trace the tokens at all, and you hit it on the statue. Thousands of them available at God shops all over the known universe. Even at five hundred credits a pop, she's a popular lady."

She started to pull back, but his hands held her still. "I have to give Whitney something by tomorrow. I told Mira everything."

His hands paused, a fraction of a moment, then continued kneading her muscles. "I see."

"Maybe I should have asked you first, but I did what I felt was necessary."

"There's no need to apologize."

"I'm not apologizing." This time she shrugged him off. "I'm saying." She stalked into the bedroom. Even excellent coffee could start to burn a hole in the gut. Despite it, Eve jammed at the AutoChef to program a pot. "I'm doing what needs to be done, and one of those duties is to advise you to increase your personal security until this case is closed."

"I believe my security is more than adequate."

"If that was the case, this bastard wouldn't have slipped through it to shoot transmissions from this house, to arrange for hotel rooms with one of your credit accounts, to draw a woman over from Ireland in your name."

Roarke angled his head, nodded. "Point taken. I'll have a look, personally, at my electronic security."

"Fine, that's a start." She slopped coffee into a cup. "I'm putting a tag on Summerset."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I'm tagging him." The fury was bubbling, couldn't be stopped. "For his own welfare. The next time I find a body, I want him well alibied. I put a tag on him, fit him with a security bracelet, or cage him. I figure the first is the easiest choice."

"Perhaps it is." Roarke decided brandy would go down easier than coffee. "And do you intend to put a tag on me, Lieutenant?''

"If I thought one could stick, damn right I would. Since you'd peel it off within an hour, it would be a waste of time."

"Well." He lifted his snifter in salute. "We understand each other."

"I think we do." She drew a breath. "I contacted the ME. There were traces of a tranq in Jennie O'Leary's system."

Roarke stared into his brandy. "Had she been raped?"

"No, there were no signs of sexual assault, no indication of struggle. She was still tranq'd when he strung her up. But the token – there was another token – the ME found it in her vagina. Again, there was no bruising or indication of force or struggle. It would appear that the token was inserted while she was unconscious. I'm sorry, but I thought you'd want the details."

"I do, yes."

"The ME reports that you've requested – as the victim has no next of kin – to be given possession of the body when it's released."

"She'd want to go back to Ireland."

"I assume you'll take the body back yourself."

"Yes."

The burn in her gut spread to her heart. "I'd appreciate it if you'd let me know when you've finalized your plans."

He looked up then, and the emotions swimming in those beautiful eyes stabbed her heart. "Did you think I would send her back alone? That I would wash my hands of it and go about my business?"

"No. I've got work."

"For Christ's sake."

It was the tone, impatience, frustration, and just a whiff of amusement that had her whirling on him. "Don't take that line with me, pal. Don't try to make me feel like an idiot. You loved her. Okay, fine. Do what you have to do, and so will I."

He was swearing viciously by the time he caught her. Even the whiff of amusement was extinguished. "Yes, I loved her, and what we once had was important to me. Even so it wasn't so much as a shadow against what I feel for you. Is that what you want to hear?"

Shame rushed over her, smothering temper. "I don't know what's wrong with me. It's all pushing into my head." Feeling helpless, she lifted her fingers to press at her temples. "None of the others mattered because… I don't know, they just don't matter to me. She does, and I hate myself for being jealous, even for a minute, of a dead woman."

"Eve." He laid a hand on her cheek. "From the first moment I met you, every other woman paled for me."

She only felt more foolish."I wasn't groping, it's just – ''

"You're all," he murmured, touching his lips to each pounding temple in turn. "You're only."

The burning around her heart turned to an ache, sweet and strong. "I need you." Her arms came tight around him, her mouth fused to his. "For so many things."

"Thank God." He deepened the kiss, gentled it until she sighed. "We'll take that hour now. Together."