“I didn’t think you were listening.”
“I raised children. I know how to listen and do a myriad of other things at the same time. Yes. He could and he would. It’s absolutely his pathology. More, his son is free, he is not. His son despises him. He would only need to despise his son more. Yes, again, he would use—delight in using—a man his son considers his closest friend. He’d revel in it.”
“It was coming to New York that was the kicker, wasn’t it? Coltraine coming here to where I am, to where Roarke is. She signed her death warrant when she transferred here.”
“It’s not your doing, Eve.”
“I know that. I’m asking, in your opinion, if he had her killed to get back at his son and at me. He used a cop to do it. He’d have other ways, other means. But he used a cop. I know it. That was for me. Sending her weapon to me. A direct threat, a little reminder that it could be me. That was for Roarke.”
“At this time,” Mira said after a moment, “with this data, with this history, yes. He manipulated this one act to strike at the three people who most obsess him.”
“That’s what I thought. It’ll make taking his trigger down and shoving that in his face more satisfying.”
“I know your mind’s not on what’s going on downstairs.”
“It’s okay.” Eve tugged at the skirt of the dress. “I’ll multitask.”
A short time later, she wasn’t sure she had a mind. the pool house had been transformed into a female fantasy of gold, white, and silver canopies, lounge chairs, towering white candles. White tables held frothy pink drinks in crystal flutes, and silver trays of colorful food. Yet another held a tower of gifts with trailing ribbons.
To the far side of the deep blue water of the pool was the salon. Reclining chairs, massage tables, manicure and pedicure stations—and the tables with all those tools and implements that always gave Eve a slightly queasy stomach.
“Bellinis!” Mavis pushed one into Eve’s hand. “Mine are with the nonalchy bubbles since I’m nursing. But they’re still delish. We’re going to draw lots for services in a few minutes. After some lube.”
“Don’t put mine in.”
Mavis grinned. “Too late,” she said and danced off.
Eve thought: What the hell. And knocked back half the Bellini. It was pretty delish.
“What do you think?” Peabody asked, and gestured to encompass the whole space.
“I think it looks like a really classy bordello without any johns. In a good way.”
“That was pretty much the idea. Listen, while it’s all the chatter, we can slip out. You can fill me in on anything new.”
Eve looked at Peabody, looked at the space, looked over to where Louise laughed with a group of women. “It’s a party. The rest can wait. But since you asked, and meant it, the hurt downgrades from pig squeal to agonized moan.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Woot!”
As Mavis announced the first names for services, women shrieked. And Eve polished off the first Bellini.
Louise put another in her hand, tapped her own glass to it. “When I was a girl,” she began, “I dreamed about getting married, and all that went around it. For a long time, after I grew up, I put those dreams aside. For the work, and because no one measured up to what I had dreamed as a girl. Now, with Charles and what we have, with all this, and what I have right this minute, it’s so much more than I ever dreamed.”
“You look stupid with happy, Louise.”
“I am. I am stupid with happy. I know this is a bad time for you—and celebrating when Morris is going through so much—”
“We’re not thinking about that now. So, how long before somebody gets drunk and falls in the pool?”
“Oh, no more than an hour.”
It was an hour, almost to the minute, but nobody fell in. Mavis stripped off her boots, pulled her dress over her head and dived in, bare-ass naked. The gesture met with enthusiasm, so much so that dresses flew, shoes soared. Women, in a variety of sizes and shapes, joined her.
“My eyes,” Eve moaned. “There aren’t enough Bellinis in the world to save my eyes.”
They swam naked, and when someone ordered music, they danced. They chattered like magpies and drank like fish. They reclined in the salon with their faces and bodies coated with strangely colored goo. They gathered in corners for intense discussions.
“It hits every note.”
Eve glanced over at Nadine. “Does it?”
“Look at Peabody shaking it with Louise. And Mira over there chatting with Reo and—whoever that is, some friend of Louise’s from the hospital. They’re chatting like sisters while they get facials. I get caught up with work. You know how it is. And I forget to just hang with women. Just be with others of my species without any agenda. Then there’s something like this, so completely female, and I like it. A lot. It hits the notes.”
“I didn’t see you jump naked in the pool.”
“I haven’t had enough to drink yet. But the night’s young.” Nadine gave her slow, feline smile. “Wanna dance, cutie?”
Eve laughed. “No, but thanks. Two things, then we’ll get another drink. I might have a break on the Coltraine case, and I’ll give you a heads up when it cracks open. Don’t ask, not here. Second, I read the book. Your Icove book. You got it. I already knew the ending, but you pulled it off so I wanted to see how you played it out.”
“It’s been killing me not to ask you.” Nadine closed her eyes, drank again. “Thanks. Serious and sincere thanks, Dallas.”
“I didn’t write it.” Eve looked at her glass. “I’m empty.”
“Let’s go fix that.”
It got stranger. The I-have-to-watch-my-figure food disappeared to be replaced by the gooey. Little frosted cakes, cookies, tarts gleaming with sugar, pastries oozing cream. Because she hoped to hear from Callendar, Eve switched to coffee. Nadine, having enough to drink, executed an impressive naked jackknife from the diving board. Several pairs of breasts bobbed in the swirling water of the corner jets. Eve worked hard to block out the fact that a pair of them belonged to Mira.
It just wasn’t right.
“We’re going to begin the open-the-gifts round,” Peabody told her.
“Good, that should—What are you wearing?”
“My party pajamas.” Peabody looked down at her bright yellow sleep tank and pants. The pants were covered with colorful drawings of shoes. “Cute.”
“Why would anyone wear shoes on their pants? Shoes go on your feet.”
“I like shoes. I love my pjs.” Smiling sloppily, Peabody hugged herself and swayed. “They’re fun.”
“Peabody, you’re completed wasted.”
“I know. I had a gazillion belamies, belly buttons, biminis, whatever. And I ate much, too. So if I throw up, none of it counts! Didja know McNab called me from Vegas? He won a hundreds dollar.”
Fuck it, Eve thought. A party was a party. “A hundreds dollar?”
“Uh-huh. He said if he wins a hundreds more, he’s going to buy me a present. Oops! Presents! Time to open presents!”
Eve stayed out of the way as it seemed opening presents involved some ritual, and a change of venue from the pool house to the lounge beyond it. Following Peabody’s lead, many of the guests also required a wardrobe change.
Mavis came in wearing a polka-dot tank and striped pants, and carrying the baby, who wore matching sleepwear.
Women flocked to them like cooing doves.
“She’s hungry,” Mavis explained. “Plus she didn’t want to miss the whole party.” So saying, Mavis sat, plopped out a breast. Bella latched on enthusiastically.
Women sat or sprawled everywhere while Louise began the ritual of removing ribbons, bows, and paper. There were coos and ooohs, bawdy laughter at the gag gifts of sex toys. And the conversation around the openings turned to weddings, men, and sex.