“You mean did I ask her for the deets after?” Sasha gulped down water, paused, gulped again. “Of course I did. She wouldn’t spill. And I wheedled pretty good.”
Sven took the nearly empty water bottle. “It’s time for your cardio.”
“I hate cardio. Let’s skip it and go straight to the massage.”
“Sasha,” said Sven, severely, and tsked again.
“All right, you sexy sadist.” She pulled herself up off the floor of her home gym to climb on the cross trainer. “Give me Paris, Sven. If I’m going to hike and sprint and step, it might as well be Paris. I was going to go over and see her this afternoon,” Sasha continued as the Arc de Triomphe flashed on her view screen. “But Bridge has it under control, and she’s better with this kind of thing than I am. When Ava’s ready for a distraction-for a trip or good drunk or retail therapy-I’m her girl. Brigit’s the soft shoulder.”
“How was Ava, on this last trip?”
“Good. Fine. Maybe a little tense and moody when we started out, but she chilled. Listen, I can’t talk and do this torment at the same time, so is that it?”
“Yeah, that’s it. Thanks. We’ll see ourselves out.”
As Eve turned away, she heard Sasha curse. “Sven, you bastard! There’s no hills like these on the frigging Champs-Élysées.”
7
THE MORNING INTERVIEWS GAVE EVE A LOT TO chew on. If there’d been time, she’d have done just that, in her office, with her boots on her desk and her eyes on her murder board. But sessions with Mira were gold, and not something she could afford to fluff off.
With Peabody writing up the statements and reports, Eve strode into Mira’s outer office.
“Dr. Mira is running a bit behind today,” the palace guard in the guise of admin informed her.
“How behind is a bit?”
“Only a few minutes.” The woman smiled. “You’re a minute late yourself, so it won’t be long.”
“Fine.” Turning away, Eve screwed up her face and mouthed, You’re a minute late yourself. Then pulling out her ’link called her oldest friend, Mavis Freestone. Seconds later, Mavis’s happy face, surrounded by an explosion of lavender hair, popped on screen.
“Dallas! Guess where we’re going? Me and Belly Button?”
“To hell in a handbasket?”
“To the baby doctor. Yes, we are!” Mavis said in an excited coo. “We’re all clean and shiny and we’re going to the baby doctor so he can look at our little dumpling butt, our magalicious baby girl ears, and our yummy tum-tummy. Isn’t that right, Bellamia? Say hi to Auntie Dallas, sugarcheeks. Say hi.”
Mavis’s face was replaced by the round-cheeked (maybe it did have something to do with sugar), bright-eyed, curly-haired infant Mavis had popped out a couple months before. There were candy-striped ribbons tied in bows in the curls, drool dripping down the pudgy chin, and a huge, gummy grin. “Say hi to Bellaloca, Auntie Dallas.”
“How’s it going, Belle. Mavis.”
“Wave bye-bye, my itsy-bitsy baby-boo. Bye-bye to Auntie Dallas. Give her a cooey-dooey-”
“Mavis!”
“What?”
“Mavis, I’m saying this for your own good. You have to stop the insanity. You sound like a moron.”
“I know.” Mavis’s eyes, currently purple, rolled. “I can hear myself, but I can’t stop. It’s like a drug. So totally S. Hang on.” She set down the ’link, and the screen filled with the rainbow hues of the nursery. Eve heard Mavis cooing and gooing, and assumed she was putting the kid down somewhere.
“Back. She’s so beautiful. And she’s so good. Just this morning-”
“Mavis.”
“Sorry. Back.” Mavis blew out a breath that fluttered the lavender bangs spiking over her eyes. “I’m kicking out to the studio later, working on a new disc. I’ll be around grown-up people, lots of crazy artistic types. That’ll help.”
“Yeah, crazy artistic types. That’s the ticket. I just have a question.”
“Lay it down.”
“If you and Leonardo were having problems in bed-”
“Bite your tongue in three sections and swallow it!”
“Just hear me out. If you were, and it got sticky.”
“It wouldn’t get sticky in bed if we were having problems there.”
“Ha. Serious. If it got serious, would you tell me?”
“Affirmative.” The purple eyes registered quick worry. “You and Roarke aren’t-”
“No. Second part of the question. If you started going to an LC-”
“Can it be a really frosty one? Can it be two frosty ones, with really big wanks?”
“Solid ice, mongo wanks. If you did that, you’d tell me about it.”
“Dallas, if I was doing it with a pro, you couldn’t shut me up. Which you’d want to because you wouldn’t want to hear how they licked warm, melted chocolate off my-”
“No, I wouldn’t.”
“But since my big, cuddly bear already does that, and his wank is mucho mongo, I wouldn’t need the LC.”
“Okay.” Eve turned when she heard Mira’s door open. And staring, quickly ended the call. “Thanks. Later. Hey, Charles, small world.”
She might have bashed him with a brick. His expression jumped from shock to disbelief and ended on flustered. “I’ve heard people call New York a small town,” he managed. “I guess this is what they mean. I was just…Well.”
“Eve.” With a warm and welcoming smile on her pretty face, Mira stepped beside Charles. “I’m sorry I kept you waiting. Come right in. Charles, always a pleasure.”
“Thank you. I’ll…” He gestured without any of his usual style. “Let you get to work.”
Over her shoulder, Eve watched him stride rapidly away as she moved into Mira’s office. “What’s all that about?”
“Have a seat. We’ll have some tea.”
While Eve frowned, Mira moved with her usual graceful efficiency between the two scoop chairs to the AutoChef to order the flowery tea she seemed to live on. Her hair, a cannily highlighted sable, swung smoothly around her patient face, setting off her calm blue eyes. Her suit, a warm and dull gold today, showed off good legs.
“Since you don’t have a hair out of place, I’m guessing he didn’t drop by to bang you.”
Mira set delicate cups on the table between the chairs, and laughed with delight. “Wouldn’t that have been interesting? Because it is, I have no intention of confirming or denying.” She sat, crossed her legs smoothly, studied Eve’s face. “You’re annoyed because two of your friends have some private business they’re not inclined to share with you.”
“I’m not annoyed.” Irked, Eve decided, maybe she was a little irked. “The vic’s wife is one of Charles’s clients, and I interviewed him regarding that this morning, so-”
“I’ll tell you that what Charles and I discussed has nothing whatsoever to do with your investigation. Now, about your investigation-”
“Is he in trouble?”
Mira’s eyes softened. “No, Charles isn’t in trouble. He has a lot on his mind at the moment.”
“So he keeps saying,” Eve replied, and dropped into a chair. “People are too much damn work.”
“They certainly can be.”
“I could find out. It’s my damn job to find things out.”
“But you won’t, because I’ve just told you he isn’t in trouble, and you won’t intrude.”
“If these people wouldn’t crisscross all the time in front of where I need to go, I wouldn’t have to think about them.”
Mira sipped her tea, but hiding her smile didn’t hide the open amusement in her eyes. “Your life’s more crowded than it used to be. And you’re more contented.”
“Yeah, I’m feeling real cozy right now. Forget it.” She shrugged it off. Charles was a big boy. “You read the file?”
“Yes.” Mira took another sip of tea as-Eve knew-she aligned her thoughts. “In my opinion, Anders knew his killer. The method used, the staging surrounding it, wasn’t just personal, but intimate. Sexual, of course, but sex isn’t always intimate. And there is no physical or forensic evidence that the victim engaged in sexual relations with the killer, or anyone on the night of the murder.”