She'd have preferred ice-cold water and an open window so she could lean out, just breathe. "We're in the middle of an investigation." "Understood. Doctors and cops learn to be flexible and live with canceled social engagements. Barring emergencies, we'll expect you. Now sit, drink your protein. Lemon flavored." Because it was quicker than arguing and she could use a boost, Eve opened the bottle and chugged.
The office was a big step up from the one Louise kept at her clinic. Roomier, more fancily furnished. Efficient, as you'd expect, but with style.
"Swankier digs here," Eve commented.
"Roarke insisted, and I confess, he didn't have to twist my arm. One of the elements we're aiming for here is comfort.
Hominess. We want these women, these kids, to feel at ease." "You've done a good job." Peabody sat and savored her drink. "It feels like a home." "Thanks." Cocking her head, Louise studied Eve. "Well, you look better. Color's back." "Thanks, Doc." Eve dumped the empty container in the recycler slot. "So. Celina Sanchez." "Ah, Celina. Fascinating woman. I've known her for years.
We went to school together for a couple of years. Her family's loaded, like mine. Very, very conservative, like mine. She's the black sheep. Like me. So, naturally enough, we're friends.
Why are you looking into her?" "She paid me a visit this morning. Claims she's a psychic." "She is." Louise frowned, and got herself a bottle of fizzy water. "A very gifted sensitive, who practices professionally.
Which is why she's the black sheep. Her family disapproves of and is embarrassed by her work. As I said, very conservative.
Why did she come to see you? Celina specializes in private consult, and party work."
"She claims she witnessed a murder." "My God. Is she all right?" "She wasn't there. She had a vision." "Oh. That must've been horrible for her." "So you buy it. Just like…" Eve snapped her fingers.
"If Celina came to see you, told you she'd seen a murder, she saw one." Thoughtfully, Louise sipped at her water. "She doesn't hide her gift, but she keeps it all very professional, and well, you could say surface." "Define surface," Eve prompted.
"She enjoys what she does what she has, and she's geared it toward entertaining more than counseling, let's say. She keeps it light. I've never known her to get involved with anything like this. Who was killed?" "A woman was raped, strangled, and mutilated in Central Park last night." "I heard about that." Louise sat behind a glossy and feminine desk. "There weren't a lot of details. Your case?" "Yeah. Celina had a lot of the details that weren't released.
You're vouching for her?" "I am. Yes, I'd believe her, no question. Can she help?" "Yet to be determined. What do you know about her, on a personal front?" Louise lifted the water bottle again, and took her time drinking. "I don't like dishing about my friends, Dallas." "I'm a cop. I don't dish." Louise blew out a breath. "Well, as I said, she's from a wealthy, conservative family who doesn't approve of her. It takes considerable strength of character to buck your family." She toasted herself, drank. "Her father's side is aristocratic Mexico, though he moved to Wisconsin for several years for some business or other. They live in Mexico now, and Celina bolted for New York, made it her place while we were still in college. As much, I'd say, because she wanted the city as because this particular city was several thousand miles from her family, yet on the same continent." She shrugged, considered. "I'd say she's a straightforward, goal-oriented type. She studied parapsychology in college, and related subjects. She wanted to know everything she could about her gift. For a sensitive, she's a logical, somewhat linear woman. She's loyal. It takes loyalty to keep friends for a decade or so. Ethical. I've never known her to intrude, psychically, or to use her talent to exploit. Did she know the woman who was killed?" "Not, she said, in this particular life." "Hmm. I remember having discussions with her about connections, past, present, to come. Not your style, I know, but a valid and accepted theory, even in some scientific circles." "What about personal relationships?" "Other than friendships, you mean. She was involved with someone for a few years. Songwriter, musician. Lovely man.
They broke it off a while ago. Around a year ago." She shrugged. Too bad. I liked him." "Name?" "Lucas Grande. Reasonably successful. He's had a number of songs published and produced, and works regularly as a session musician. He scores vids, too." "Why'd they split?" That feels like dish. How does this relate?" "Everything relates until I know it doesn't relate." "Basically, things cooled off between them. They just weren't happy together anymore, so they went their separate ways." "It was mutual?" "I've never heard Celina trash him any more than a woman does when she splits with a guy. I don't see her all that often not enough time but from what I could see, she handled it well enough. They loved each other, then they didn't. They moved on." "Did she ever mention Elisa Maplewood to you?" "That's the woman who was killed? No. I never heard the name before this morning on the news." "Luther or Deann Vanderlea?" "Antiques?" Louise's eyebrows lifted in interest. "I know them a little. I think one of my uncles plays golf with Luther's father, something like that. It's possible that Celina knows them, socially. Why?" "Victim worked for them. Domestic." "Ah. You're reaching, Dallas." "Yeah, but you never know just what you'll grab out there."
You must be really proud," Peabody said as they got back into the car.
"Huh?" "Place like that." She looked back toward Dochas. "What Roarke's done here." "Yeah. He puts his money where a lot of people can't even bother to put their mouths." As Eve started to pull out, Peabody laid a hand on her arm. "What?" "We're partners now, right?" "As you never fail to remind me." "We're friends." Dubious, Eve tapped her fingers on the wheel. "Is this going to get sloppy?" "People have private stuff. They're entitled. But friends and partners are entitled to unload on friends and partners.
You didn't want to go in there." It shouldn't show, Eve thought. It wasn't allowed to show.
"I went in there." "Because you're aces at doing things you don't want.
Things other people would walk away from. I'm just saying that if something gets over you, you can unload. That's all.
And it wouldn't go beyond me." "You see me doing anything that interferes with the job?" "No. I only-" "Some people have personal stuff that can't be cleared up with a nice little heart-to-heart and ice-cream sundaes." She whipped away from the curb, cut off a cab, and punched it through a yellow. "That's why it's personal." "Okay." "And if you're going to sulk because I'm not crying on your shoulder, you can just suck it up." She swerved down a side street without a thought to destination. "That's what cops do. They suck it up, do the job, and don't go around looking for somebody to pat their head and say, "There, there." I don't need you to play the understanding friend so I can dump my guts all over the floor for your perusal. So just… shit, shit, fuck." She yanked the wheel, double-parked, and ignoring the furious blasts of horns, slapped on the On Duty light.
"Out of line. Out of orbit. Way out. None of that was called for. None of it."
"Forget it." "I'm tired," she said, staring out the windshield. "Beyond protein booster tired. And I'm edgy. And I just can't get into all the whys of it. I just can't." "It's okay. Dallas, I'm not sulking. I'm not pushing." "No, you're not." Hadn't been, Eve admitted. "And you're not taking a punch at me, even when I deserve it." "You'd hit me back, and you hit harder." With a short laugh, Eve rubbed her hands over her face, then made herself shift in the seat, meet Peabody's gaze.