Eve lifted her eyebrows.
“The lieutenant and I were open about our relationship from its beginning,” Roarke pointed out.
“Everyone makes their own choices.”
“Your father wouldn’t have approved, any more than her superiors,” Roarke speculated as he studied Alex’s face. “No, he wouldn’t have liked his son and heir sleeping with the enemy, unless it was for the purpose of recruiting. That he would have approved of, quite well.”
“If you’re looking to use our relationship to stain Ammy’s reputation, you’re—” He broke off, settled back, but the temper had whipped out, left the sting in the air. “We kept business out of our relationship. And there comes a time when a father’s approval isn’t the driving force in a man’s life.”
“Did Max know?”
“You’ll have to ask him,” Alex said coolly. “You know where to find him.”
“Yeah.” Changing tack, Eve drew his attention back to her. “A concrete cage on Omega. Crappy place, isn’t it?”
“Is this about my relationship with Amaryllis or with my father?”
“Depends. When’s the last time you saw Detective Coltraine?”
“The day before she was killed. I got in touch with her when I got into town. She came here. We had drinks, caught up with each other. She was here for a couple of hours.”
“Alone? Just the two of you?”
“Rod was here. Up in the office.”
“What did you talk about?”
“How she liked New York, how she was settling in to her new home, her new job. What I’d done in Paris. I’d come in from there. She told me she was involved with someone. Seriously involved, and that he made her happy. It was easy to see that was true. She looked happy.”
“And on the night she was murdered?”
“I had dinner in. About eight, I think. Rod would know. Caught up with some work. He went to his room about ten, and I went out shortly after that.”
“You went out? Where?”
“I was restless. I thought I’d take a walk, as I don’t get to New York often. I like the city. I walked over to Broadway.”
“You walked from Park to Broadway?”
“That’s right.” The faint edge of annoyance crept in. “It was a nice night, a little on the cool side. I wanted the lights, the noise, the crowds, so I ended up wandering around Times Square.”
“Alone.”
“Yes. I hit a couple of video arcades. I like to play. I stopped in a bar. Crowded, noisy. They had the game on-screen. American baseball. I prefer football. Not what you people call football. Real football. But I had a beer and watched some of the game. Then I walked back here. I’m not sure of the time. Not very late. Before one, I’d say.”
“What’s the name of the bar?”
“I have no idea. I was walking around; I wanted a beer.”
“Got a receipt?”
“No. It was one bloody beer. I paid cash. If I’d known I’d need an alibi, I’d’ve done considerably better.”
Temper, temper, Eve thought. “A man in your position, a businessman with international interests—and considering, again, your background—might find it necessary to own a licensed weapon.”
“You know I do. You’d have checked already.”
“You’re licensed for a civilian stunner, which is registered in your name. Maybe, since you’re being so cooperative, you’d allow me to take it with me, have it tested and examined. Since you were having a beer and watching the game when Detective Coltraine was killed.”
Resentment lay cold on his face. “If my father was anyone else but Max Ricker?”
“I’d still be asking for it. I can get a warrant, if you’d prefer.”
He said nothing, only rose. He walked to a table, unlocked a drawer. It was smaller, sleeker, and less powerful a weapon than hers. One that stunned only. He offered it to her, along with its license.
“Handy,” she said.
“As I said, I was expecting you. I’m not my father.” He clipped out the words as Eve put the weapon and paperwork in an evidence bag, labeled it, sealed it. “I don’t kill women.”
“Just men?”
“I cared about her, or we wouldn’t be having this conversation. Now we’re done.” He accepted the receipt Eve printed out of her PPC. “I expect the cop who put Max Ricker in that cage will catch the person who killed Amaryllis.”
He walked back to the foyer, called the elevator.
“You know the routine, don’t leave town, stay available, blah blah.” Eve stepped onto the elevator with Roarke.
“Yes, I know the routine. I also know if our backgrounds made us who we are, we’d all be fucked.”
He walked away as the doors closed.
When they hit the sidewalk, Eve stopped, turned to speak. Roarke simply shook his head, then took her arm and led her to the car.
“What?” she said, and repeated when they were inside, “What?”
“Drive. If I were a man who’d been expecting a visit from a cop who’d be looking at me for killing another cop, I’d have myself a plant on the street, with eyes and ears. And then I’d know just what that cop thought about me and our conversation.”
Eve frowned as she drove. “You actually have people who walk around listening to other people?”
He patted her hand. “We’re not talking about me, are we?”
“Privacy laws—”
“There, there.” He patted her hand again. “He was in love with her, and still is. To some extent, still is.”
“People often kill the ones they love.”
“Well, if he did, he’s either amazingly stupid about it, or damned clever. Pathetic alibi like that. You’ll be getting a warrant for his building’s security discs, to verify his coming and going.”
“First on the list. He’d have to know that, so he’ll have come and gone pretty much as stated. He’s wide open for the time in question. Wide. And he was nervous when we got there. He lost some of the nerves as we went along because he got mad. The stunner’s not going to play out. He gave it up too easily. He could have another, unregistered, unlicensed. Hell, he could have a freaking arsenal.”
“Max did love the weapon’s trade. He’s smoother than his father,” Roarke commented. “And yet not so smooth. Odd, really. Max wouldn’t have shown those nerves, wouldn’t have felt them come to that. Yet the son has a polish the father lacked. He doesn’t seem the type to use the word cunt when referring to Amaryllis. It’s too vulgar.”
“Maybe he hires vulgar underlings.”
“Very possibly. Or it was a deliberate choice because it seems off. Because it seems more like his father.”
“Maybe. He’s interested in us, has been interested in us. But—”
“No more, it seems, than reasonable. Given the circumstances.”
“It seems,” she agreed. “There’s either some tension between him and his father, or he wanted us to think there is. I wonder which. Anyway, are you going to midtown? To your office?”
“I suppose I am.”
“I’ll dump you there.”
“Shows me what I’m worth to you. Now I’m dumped.”
“I mean drop you off there, take you. Whatever. But speaking of dumping. She breaks things off back in Atlanta. He’s pissy about it—amicable, my ass—but maybe it’s like, sure, screw it, who needs you. Or maybe he keeps at her some, and that’s why she decides to transfer.”
“The timing would indicate she wanted distance.”
“What did he say? He doesn’t get to New York often. Then he comes here, contacts her. Here we go again, she thinks, and just when she’s gotten into this romance with Morris. When things are smoothed out. She goes to see him, tries to convince him it’s over and done. He could play that out. Like you said, he’s smooth, he’s polished. But it burns his guts. This bitch can’t dump me. She’s not going to get away with it. Works himself up. Really gets up the steam. Contacts her that night, demands she come meet him, or he’s going to make it sticky for her with Morris, with the department.”