“So add a violent childhood and potential parental neglect. Mom’s a public figure, which makes her powerful. They probably had household staff, right? Maids, gardeners, full-time childcare. You could see what you could dig up on who looked after littleLeo while you display the Renquists for me.”
“Then I’m having another cookie.”
She glanced back as he spoke, ready to make some sarcastic comment. But the look of him, just the look of him sitting there at her desk, his hair shining from the shower, his eyes vivid and focused on the screen, had her heart tripping.
Ridiculous, it was ridiculous. She knew what he looked like, and he could still turn her inside out without even trying.
He must have sensed her stare as he shifted his eyes, met hers. An absurdly handsome man with a cookie in his hand. “I think I deserve it.”
Her mind blanked. “What?”
“The cookie,” he said and took a bite. Then he cocked his head. “What?”
“Nothing.” Vaguely embarrassed, she turned around again and ordered her heart to settle back down. Time, she told herself, to move to the next.
Renquist,Niles, she thought. Self-important, snotty bastard. But that was just personal opinion. Time for facts.
He’d been born inLondon, to a society deb who was half Brit, half Yank. Fourth cousin to the king on her mother’s side and tons of money on her father’s. His father wasLordRenquist, a member of Parliament and a staunch conservative. One younger sister who’d settled inAustralia with husband number two.
Renquist had the full British educational package. TheStonebridgeSchool toEton,Eton toEdinburghUniversity. Served two years in the RAF, as commissioned officer, rank of captain. Fluent in Italian and French and joined the diplomatic corps at age thirty, the same year as his marriage toPamelaElizabethDysert.
She had a similar background and education. Well-placed parents, high-class education, which had included six years at a boarding school inSwitzerland. She was an only child, and had considerable money of her own.
They were,Eve supposed, what people of that class would call a good match.
Everemembered the little girl who’d come to the steps while she’d been questioningPamelaRenquist. The little pink-and-gold doll,Rose, who’d given the nanny’s hand one impatient tug before falling in.
No, not nanny. She’d called her the “au pair.” People of that ilk always had a fancy name for everything.
Wouldn’t Renquist have had an au pair growing up?
His schedule, daytime, wasn’t as flexible as the others’. But would an assistant or admin question him if he told them to block out a couple of hours? She studied the ID image of Renquist on-screen, and doubted it.
No criminal on him or the wife. No little smudges as there had been with Breen and Fortney. Just a perfect picture, all polished and shiny.
She didn’t buy it.
He hadn’t married until thirty, she thought. A reasonable age, if you were going the “till death” route. Plus, a man with political ambitions did better in the field if he presented the package of wife and family. But unless he’d taken a vow of celibacy, there’d have been other relationships before the marriage.
And maybe after it.
It might be worth having a conversation with the current au pair. Who knew family dynamics better than live-in help?
She went back for more coffee. “You could shoot up the data onCarmichaelSmith.”
“Do you want that before the data on the Fortney nanny?”
“You’ve got that already?”
“What can I say? I earn my cookies.”
“Fortney first, smart guy. Let’s keep it ordered.”
“Difficult, as it appears there were several child-care providers used. It appears his mother chewed through them like gumdrops. Baby nurses, au pairs, whatever. Seven total over a period of just under ten years. None stayed on the job longer than two years, with an average stay of six months.”
“Doesn’t seem long enough to have any serious impact. So my thought would be the mother remained the authority figure.”
“And from this data, one assumes an incendiary one. Three of the former employees filed hardship suits against her. All were settled out of court.”
“I’m going to have to take a closer look at the mother.” She paced back and forth in front of the screen while she ran it through her head. “Leohas a mother who’s an actress, and his current lover is in the same profession. He goes into a profession where he’ll deal with actors, have some control over them-be controlled, I imagine, by them. That says something. The killer is acting. Assuming a role, and proving he can play the part better than the original, and with more finesse. When I run a probability with this data, it’s going to come out high onLeo.”
She considered. “Let’s go down the list before we do another layer. Find me Renquist’s nanny, or whatever they call them over inEngland.”
“RobertaJanetGable,” Roarke announced, then smiled. “I’m multitasking.”
“Usually do,” she replied, then looked up at the image on-screen. “Man.”Eve gave a mock shudder. “Scary.”
“This is current. She’d have been considerably younger when working for Renquist’s mother, but”-having anticipated her, Roarke called up the earlier photo-”still scary.”
“I’ll say.” She studied the split-screen images of a thin face with dark, deep-set eyes and an unsmiling mouth. The hair was brown in the younger, gray in the current, and in both cases pulled severely back. The lines that bracketed the no-nonsense mouth on the earlier image had dug themselves into disapproving grooves on the older woman.
“I bet nobody called herBobbie,”Eve commented. She started to struggle with the math, and could only be grateful Roarke had gotten there before her.
“She took the job when Renquist was two, and held it until he was fourteen. He didn’t board at Stonebridge, but was a day student. Headed off toEton at fourteen, and no longer required the services of a nanny.Roberta, don’t call meBobbie, would have been twenty-eight when she took the position, and forty when she left it to take another position as private child-care provider. She’s now sixty-four and has recently retired. Never married, nor had any offspring of her own.”
“She looks like she pinches,”Eve commented. “One of the providers at the state school was a pincher. She’s got all the credentials, but so did that bitch who decorated my arms with bruises when I was ten. Born inBoston, and went back there when she retired. Yeah, that’s aNew England bedrock face, the kind that says shit like ‘spare the rod, spoil the child.’”
“She could be an unfortunate-looking woman with a heart of gold who keeps sugarplums in her pocket to pass out to rosy-cheeked children.”
“Looks like a pincher,”Eve said again, and sat on the edge of the desk. “Financially solid. I bet she saved her pennies and didn’t squander them on sugarplums. What is a sugarplum, anyway?”
He was thinking ofEve at ten, with bruises on her arms. “I’ll buy you some. You’ll like them.”
“Odds are. I think we’ll chat, and see what she has to say about Renquist’s early childhood training. Let’s see the annoyingMr.Smith.”
“Come sit on my lap.”
She tried a severe look, but couldn’t come close toRobertaGable ’s expression. “There’ll be no hanky or panky during a work session.”
“As there was hanky on the kitchen floor followed by panky in the shower, I think we can shelve that activity. Come sit on my lap.” He sent her a persuasive smile. “I’m lonely.”
She did it, and tried not to soften too much when his lips brushed her hair.
“CarmichaelSmith,” he said, but he was still thinking of the child she’d been, at the mercy of the system she now stood for. And wanted, more than anything, to lavish her with everything she’d done without. Especially love.
“Thirty-one, my ass. I bet he greased some palms to have that stat adjusted. Born inSavannah, but spent part of his childhood inEngland. No sibs, and his mother opted for professional parent status, right up until his eighteenth birthday. Sealed juvie record, here and abroad, which might be worth the hassle of breaking. Not rolling in as much dough as he should be, considering. Must have himself some high expenses or habits.”