“I’ve got something. Callendar heard a burp, and I’ve got something. Rouche, Cecil, cage guard on Omega—six years in. Assigned to max security wing. Ricker’s wing. Divorced. But, oddly, his ex-wife’s financials have had a serious increase in the last year. Well, not her financials so much as her insurance coverage. She’s increased it to five mil. Now what does the ex-wife of an Omega guard, who also quit her mid-level drone job eight months ago, when she also relocated from a rental in Danville, Illinois, to a twenty-room villa in the south of France, have that’s worth five mil?”
“Art, jewelry. Liquidating cash into solid investments.”
“You got it. Plus the real estate. She paid cash for the house, which is in both her name and the ex’s. Callendar’s having him pulled in for interview once things click. And they will. I haven’t been able to track the money yet. Can’t track it back from the ex-wife to Ricker. You could probably—”
“No, I’m going to Vegas.”
She goggled at him, jaw dropped, eyes bugging. “But, Jesus. ”
“Callendar, who is more than qualified, has the guard, is on the search. You have your connection, your link to Ricker—who isn’t going anywhere. The manhunt continues for Sandy, who you believe is probably dead anyway.”
“But—”
Roarke didn’t give an inch. “Knowing Ricker’s methods, it’s highly unlikely this guard has the names of the New York contact. You’ve narrowed it down to the squad, which was your instinct all along. And on Monday, you’ll push forward on that. Whoever this cop is, you’re smarter, and by God, more tenacious. But right now, you have a houseful of women, I have a limo waiting outside, and a group of men who are anxious to get very drunk and lose their money. It’s life.”
He took her face in his hands and kissed her. “It’s our life. We’re going to live it for the next twenty-four hours.”
“When you put it like that,” she muttered.
“Morris has gone home.”
“Oh. Damn it.”
“He said to tell you he wanted to think about you enjoying yourself for a few hours. That he felt lighter leaving here than he did when he came. I think he did, and I know he spoke to Mira for a short time before he left.”
“I guess that’s good. I guess that’s something.”
“Come on then, walk me out. Kiss me good-bye.”
Trapped, she rose. “How’d you find me in here? House scan,” she realized. “Didn’t think about that. What’s this room for anyway?”
“A guest office. You never know, obviously, when someone might need it. Good work, by the way, on the financials.”
“I don’t suppose, on the shuttle, you could—”
“No, I couldn’t,” he said, very firmly. “Tomorrow, after I get home and your guests have gone, is soon enough. We’re going to enjoy ourselves.”
“Easy for you to say.”
“Yes.” He gave her a full-out, and completely unsympathetic smile. “It is.”
“There you are!” Mavis, in full party gear of a bride-white mini and knee-high skin-boots of screaming red, skipped down the hall. Her hair, the same screaming red as the boots, bounced as it tumbled to her waist. “Everyone’s asking. I was just checking on Bella. You are the maggest of the mag! The little nursery’s so cute!”
“We want Belle to be happy and comfortable whenever she visits,” Roarke told her.
Eve’s stride took yet another hitch. “You brought the baby?”
“I was going to bring a sitter, but Summerset said he’d rather be with Bellisimo than go to Vegas. The man is sugar. They’re in there now, playing with Kissy Kitty and Puppy Poo.”
Eve didn’t want to know what Kissy Kitty and Puppy Poo might be, or imagine Summerset playing with them. Or anything. She did her best to scrub any and all imagery from her mind as Mavis bubbled on.
“We are going to have the abso-mega best time. Wait till you see the decorations, the food. And the salon is completely uptown. I’m going to plant a big wet one on my honey bear, so we can get this party started.”
“What am I going to do?” Eve managed as Mavis bounded down the stairs.
“You’re going to plant a big wet one on me. After that? I’m in an alternate reality.”
There were so many of them, Eve thought, as everyone spilled outside where a limo the size of Long Island waited. She couldn’t possibly know all these people. When her head stopped ringing, she realized she didn’t. Strange faces mixed with the familiar.
The groom-to-be caught her in an enthusiastic hug. “Thank you,” Charles told her. “For everything. Louise is so excited about all this.”
Eve glanced over to see Louise with Dennis Mira. Good God, sweet Jesus, Eve thought, Roarke was taking Mr. Mira to Vegas. Her world was inside out.
Somewhere in the chaos, men packed into the enormous limo. As it rolled down the drive, Baxter popped out of one of the moonroofs, shooting up the victory sign while the ladies cheered.
Then she was alone with them.
They squealed. Jumped around. They made inhuman noises and whirled in a blur of color and limbs. And ran for the house, still making them.
“Maybe it’s all some strange dream.”
Laughing, Mira stepped over to put an arm around Eve’s shoulders.
“I didn’t realize you were out here.”
“It was quite a crowd and such an interesting dynamic. The men going off to their indulgence, and the women gathering here for theirs.” Mira gave Eve’s shoulder a little pat. “Celebrations, very defined, very traditional to prepare two individuals for becoming one unit.”
“Mostly it seems like a lot of drinking and screaming.”
“And at the very outer rim of your understanding, I know. But it’s going to be fun.”
“Okay.” She noted Mira wore a dress—pale, pale blue and subtly elegant. “Do I have to change?”
“I think you should. It’ll put you in the mood. In fact, I’d love to get a look at your closet and pick something for you.”
“Fine, sure.” The trade-off would give her time to pick Mira’s brain. “Roarke said you talked to Morris before he left.”
“Yes, and we’ll talk again. He mentioned you suggested he see Father Lopez,” Mira continued as they went inside, started upstairs. “I’m glad you thought of it. Morris is a spiritual man, and I believe Lopez can help him cope with all he has to cope with. The work you gave him helps, too, and it’s good he’s self-aware enough to have asked for it. It keeps his mind active, and more, makes him a part of finding the answers.”
“I’ve got some questions.”
“I imagined you did.” Mira walked into the bedroom, and at Eve’s gesture, to the closet. She opened it, sighed. “Oh. Eve.”
“He’s always putting things in there.”
“It’s a fantasy. Like an eclectic little boutique.” She glanced back. “See, I’m already having fun. Ask your questions. I’ll multitask. Oh my God, the eveningwear alone!”
“I don’t have to wear a formal thing, do I?”
“No, no, just a moment’s distraction. Tell me what you’ve learned since the last report.”
Eve told her about Alex Ricker’s statements about his father, about Rod Sandy, Callendar’s progress, the prison guard. From the nearly sexual sounds Mira made inside the depths of the closet, Eve figured she was talking to herself. Still, orals always refined her thinking.
“This.” Mira stepped out with a flowing, thin-strapped dress the color of ripe plums. “It’s simple, comfortable, gorgeous.”
“Okay.”
“It also has slit pockets, so you can keep your ’link and communicator on you.” With an understanding smile, Mira passed the dress to Eve. “You’re wondering if Ricker could and would kill Coltraine simply as a punishment for his son. To order the hit for no profit or gain. Just spite.”