„I’m not getting naked. Hey! Hey!“
„Feel you naked then,“ he amended, as his hands were already under her sweatshirt and on her breasts. „Good things, small packages.“
„Oh yeah? Is that what I should say about your equipment?“
„Insult upon insult.“ Laughing, he slid his hand around to her back to hold her more firmly in place. „You have a lot of apologizing to do.“
„Then I guess I’d better get started.“
She put some punch into the kiss, swinging around to straddle him. It would take some agility as well as vitality to pull off a serious apology in his desk chair, but she thought she was up to the job.
He made her feel so many things, all of them vital and immediate. The hunger, the humor, the love, the lust. She could taste his heat for her, his greed for her as his mouth ravished hers. Her own body filled with that same heat and hunger as he tugged at her clothes.
Here was his life – in this complicated woman. Not just the long, alluring length of her, but the mind and spirit inside the form. She could excite and frustrate, charm and annoy – and all there was of her somehow managed to fit against him, and make him complete.
Now she surrounded him, shifting that body, using those quick hands, then taking him inside her with a long, low purr of satisfaction. They took each other, finished each other, and then the purr was a laughing groan.
„I think that squares us,“ she managed.
„You may even have some credit.“
For a moment, she curled in, rested her head on his shoulder. „Ghosts probably can’t screw around in a desk chair.“
„Unlikely.“
„It’s tough being dead.“
At eight-fifteen in the morning, Eve was in her office at Central scowling at the latest sweeper and EDD reports.
„Nothing. They can’t find anything. No sign of electronic surveillance, holographic paraphernalia, audio, video. Zilch.“
„Could be it’s telling you that you had a paranormal experience last night.“
Eve spared one bland look for Peabody. „Paranormal my ass.“
„Cases have been documented, Dallas.“
„Fruitcakes have been documented, too. It’s going to be a family member. That’s where we push. That and whatever Hopkins may or may not have had in his possession that his killer wanted. Start with the family members. Let’s eliminate any with solid alibis. We’ll fan out from there.“
She glanced at her desk as her ‘link beeped – again – and, scanning the readout, sneered. „Another reporter. We’re not feeding the hounds on this one until so ordered. Screen all your incomings. If you get cornered, straight no comment, investigation is active and ongoing. Period.“
„Got that. Dallas, what was it like last night? Skin-crawly or wow?“
Eve started to snap, then blew out a breath. „Skin-crawly, then annoying that some jerk had played with me and made my skin crawl for a minute.“
„But kind of frigid, too, right? Ghost of Bobbie Bray serenading you.“
„If I believed it was the ghost of anyone, I’d say it was feeling more pissy than entertaining. What someone wants us to think is we’re not welcome at Number Twelve. Trying to scare us off. I’ve got Feeney’s notes on the report from EDD. He says a couple of his boys heard singing. Another swears he felt something pat his ass. Same sort of deal from the sweepers. Mass hysteria.“
„Digging in, I found out two of the previous owners tried exorcisms. Hired priests, psychics, parapsychologists, that kind of deal. Nothing worked.“
„Gee, mumbo didn’t get rid of the jumbo? Why doesn’t that surprise me? Get on the ‘link, start checking alibis.“
Eve took her share, eliminated two, and ended up tagging Serenity Massey’s daughter in the woman’s Scotts-dale home.
„It’s not even seven in the morning.“
„I’m sorry, Ms. Sawyer.“
„Not even seven,“ the woman said testily, „and I’ve already had three calls from reporters, and another from the head nurse at my mother’s care center. Do you know a reporter tried to get to her? She has severe dementia – can barely remember me when I go see her – and some idiot reporter tries to get through to interview her over Bobbie Bray. My mother didn’t even know her.“
„Does your mother know she was Bobbie Bray’s daughter?“
The woman’s thin, tired face went blank. But it was there in her eyes, clear as glass. „What did you say?“
„She knows, then – certainly you do.“
„I’m not going to have my mother harassed, not by reporters, not by the police.“
„I don’t intend to harass your mother. Why don’t you tell me when and how she found out she was Bobbie’s daughter, not her sister.“
„I don’t know.“ Ms. Sawyer rubbed her hands over her face. „She hasn’t been well for a long time, a very long time. Even when I was a child…“ She dropped her hands now and looked more than tired. She looked ill. „Lieutenant, is this necessary?“
„I’ve got two murders. Both of them relatives of yours. You tell me.“
„I don’t think of the Hopkins family as relatives. Why would I? I’m sorry that man was killed because it’s dredged all this up. I’ve been careful to separate myself and my own family from the Bobbie phenomenon. Check, why don’t you? I’ve never given an interview, never agreed to one or sought one out.“
„Why? It’s a rich pool, from what 1 can tell.“
„Because I wanted normal. I’m entitled to it, and so are my kids. My mother was always frail. Delicate, mind and body. I’m not, and I’ve made damn sure to keep me and mine out of that whirlpool. If it leaks out that I’m Bobbie’s granddaughter instead of a grandniece, they’ll hound me.“
„I can’t promise to keep it quiet, I can only promise you that I won’t be giving interviews on that area of the investigation. I won’t give out your name or the names of your family members.“
„Good for you,“ Sawyer said dully. „They’re already out.“
„Then it won’t hurt you to answer some questions. How did your mother find out about her parentage?“
„She told me – my brother and me – that she found letters Bobbie had written. Bobbie’s mother kept them. She wrote asking how her baby was doing, called my mother by name. Her Serenity she called her, as if she was a state of mind instead of a child who needed her mother.“
The bitterness in the words told Eve she wasn’t talking to one of Bobbie Bray’s fans.
„Said she was sorry she’d messed up again. My mother claimed Bobbie said she was going back into rehab, that she was leaving Hop, the whole scene. She was going to get clean and come back for her daughter. Of course, she never came back. My mother was convinced Hop had killed her, or had her killed.“
„What do you think?“
„Sure, maybe.“ The words were the equivalent of a shrug. „Or maybe she took off to Bimini to sell seashells by the seashore. Maybe she went back to San Francisco and jumped off the Golden Gate Bridge. I don’t know, and frankly don’t much care.“
Sawyer let out a long sigh, pressed her fingers to her eyes. „She wasn’t, and isn’t, part of my world. But she all but became my mother’s world. Mom swore Bobbie’s ghost used to visit her, talk to her. I think it’s part of the reason, this obsession, that she’s been plagued by emotional and mental problems as long as I can remember. When my brother was killed in the Urbans, it just snapped her. He was her favorite.“
„Do you have the letters?“
„No. That Hopkins man, he tracked my mother down. I was in college, my brother was overseas, so that was, God, about thirty years ago. He talked her out of nearly everything she had that was Bobbie’s or pertained to her. Original recordings, letters, diaries, photographs. He said he was going to open some sort of museum in California. Nothing ever came of it. My brother came home and found out. He was furious. He and my mother had a horrible fight, one they never had a chance to reconcile. Now he’s gone and she might as well be. I don’t want to be Bobbie Bray’s legacy. I just want to live my life.“