“Part of the service. Can you sleep now?”
“Yeah.”
He lay down with her, kept his arms wrapped around her, and dimmed the lights again.
It left her draggy in the morning, as nightmares often did. But she put it away. By eight she was dressed, fueled, and ready to deal with what needed to be done.
“How are you going to approach this?” Roarke asked her.
“I expect both Mira and Whitney to contact me after they’ve read the report I sent them last night. Meanwhile, I’m hitting the best pal first. If I get lucky, there’s a diary and best pal has it for safekeeping.”
She sat on the arm of the sofa in the bedroom sitting area and drank her second cup of coffee. “Then I try for Allika. Straffo has a golf date this morning-nine-thirty tee time, then lunch at his club. The kid has a nine-o’clock deal at something called Brain Teasers, followed by a museum trip. Allika’s supposed to meet the kid and au pair at one, take over as the au pair has the rest of the day off. There’s lunch at a place called Zoology, followed by mother-daughter salon treatments this afternoon.”
“Full day.”
“Yeah, they fill ’em. I’m banking on catching Allika alone at the penthouse this morning. Depending on the results, I’ll either pick up the kid or have a sit-down with Mira and/or Whitney first. Interviewing the kid’s the tough part. Her father’s going to block me, Child Protection’s going to weigh in. I need more than theory and more than circumstantial to break it down.”
“Full day for you, too.”
“I can still manage sex and dinner.”
He laughed. “I like the order of this evening’s menu. Here, have this first.”
He walked to his closet, brought back a box wrapped in Valentine red, topped with a white silk bow.
“Oh, man.”
“I know, yes. A gift.” His lips twitched in amusement. “So annoying. Open it anyway.”
She lifted the lid, found another box inside of dull gold. Nestled in it on red velvet was a long, slim bottle.
She’d expected jewelry, it was his habit to buy her glitters. And she supposed he had as-knowing him-the stones encrusted on the bottle wouldn’t be glass. Who would buy a bottle decorated with diamonds and rubies except Roarke?
She lifted it, studied the pale gold liquid inside. “Magic potion?”
“It may be. Scent. Yours. Made it for you-your skin, your style, your preferences. Here.” He took it, lifted the ruby stopper, then dabbed some on her wrist himself. “See what you think.”
She sniffed, frowned, sniffed again. It was subtle, and it wasn’t frilly. Wasn’t what she thought of as flower juice or come-nail-me-against-the-nearest-wall musk.
“And?”
“It’s nice. More-I guess, it’s one more thing that proves you know me.” To please him, she stroked a little on her throat. “You know the bottle’s over the top, right?”
“Naturally. The diamonds are from the Forty-seventh Street heist.”
“Yeah?” The idea of it amused and delighted her. “That’s fairly frosty.” She took the bottle to her dresser, high enough that Galahad couldn’t leap with the pudge he carried. Then she came back and offered her neck for a sniff. “And?”
“Perfectly you.” He tugged on her hair to lower her face for a kiss. “My one and only Valentine.”
“Save that sloppy talk for later. I have to get moving. Peabody will be here any minute, or risk having her ass kicked.”
“Should we say dinner at eight, unless work intervenes?”
“Eight. I’ll try to make sure to wrap up whatever I can wrap up by seven-thirty.”
Though she’d read Eve’s report as ordered before she arrived, Peabody was still resistant to the idea of, as she put it, a kiddie killer.
“Okay, I know, at some of the rougher schools, teachers and other students have been threatened or attacked. Stickers, fists, hell, kitchen utensils. But those are hard-line situations and most often involve hard-line kids.”
“So because this one wears a nice uniform and lives in a penthouse, she’s immune.”
“No, but it’s a different foundation. And we’re talking about revenge crimes, impulse violence or innate violent tendencies. In this case, they’re premeditated and coolly executed without any clear-cut motive.”
“Motive will come.”
“Dallas, I went through Foster’s records. I went through Williams’s records. There were a handful of disciplinary actions and/or parental conferences due to behavior, slipping grades, chronic lateness on assignments and that sort of thing. But not one of them involved Rayleen Straffo. Her grades are stellar, her deportment evaluations the same. She’s top of the class.”
“Maybe she doctored them.”
“Man, you’ve got it in for her.” Immediately, Peabody winced. “I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. I just can’t get there with you. I just don’t see it. I sure don’t feel it.”
“Let’s follow through on these interviews today. Maybe one of us will change her mind.”
The in-dash ’link signaled as Eve pulled to the curb in front of the building where Melodie Branch lived.
“Dallas.”
“Eve, I’ve read your report.” Mira’s face was knitted with concern. “We need to discuss this. At length.”
“Figured that. This isn’t a good time. I’m about to do a follow-up with a wit.”
“Not Rayleen Straffo.”
“Not at this time, no. I can meet with you, and with the commander-as I’m sure he’ll feel this requires a discussion as well-this afternoon.”
“All right. I’ll contact the commander now and set it up. I’d prefer you didn’t speak with Rayleen Straffo until we’ve had this discussion.”
“She’s pretty booked up today anyway. It can wait. From what I’m hearing, you’re not on board with me on this.”
“We’ll discuss it this afternoon. I do have some concerns, yes. Tread carefully here, Eve.”
“I’ll do my best.” Eve clicked off. “Sounds like Mira’s on your side of the line with this one.”
“It’s not sides, Dallas.”
“No. You’re right.”
But it felt like sides, Eve thought, as she got out of the car and started into the building with the full intention of intimidating a young girl into betraying her best friend.
19
ANGELA MILES-BRANCH OPENED THE DOOR HERSELF. She was dressed uptown casual in tweed pants and a cream angora turtleneck. On her feet were soft, low-heeled leather boots in the same tone as the sweater.
She led them both into a stylishly streamlined living room. “I assume this is about the situation at Sarah Child. Melodie’s in her room, currently not speaking to me.”
“Oh?” was all Eve said.
“I’ve taken her out of the academy. I’m not sending my daughter to a school where there have been two murders. She’s upset that I won’t factor in her side of things, as in, her best friends in the entire universe go there, she doesn’t want to go to another school where she doesn’t know anyone and where they have to wear uniforms that are minus-zero, and so on.”
Like a woman suffering battle fatigue, Angela dropped into a chair. “We’re head-to-head on this issue, and since I’m in charge of her life for the next several years, I win. Still.” She sighed, pushed at her bright hair. “It’s awful to be ten and think your entire world just broke to pieces on you. I’m giving her the time and space to sulk and be mad at me.”
“It sounds like you’re doing exactly what you feel is best for your kid,” Peabody commented. “Kids don’t always get it. That’s why they’re not in charge.”
“Thanks for that. I’m not the only parent who’s taken this step, or is seriously considering taking it. Melodie doesn’t get that either. So, I’m hoping that at least a couple of the kids she knows and likes end up at West Side Academy, where I enrolled her yesterday. Meanwhile…” She trailed off, let her hands lift and fall.