Memory in Death (In Death 22)

She scanned the pedestrian and street traffic. “Midlevel risk to get her in. Guy quick-walking with a woman, her head’s down. Who pays attention? She’d drummed up a little spine, makes some noise, resists, maybe she shakes him off.”

“Small-town girl, big city, dead mother-in-law.” Peabody shrugged. “Not surprising she went along, especially when he gave her that little stick.”

“Sloppy, though, whole thing’s sloppy. Stupid on top of sloppy. And you’re hitting for two million when, as far as you know, the well’s a hell of a lot deeper. Chump change.”

“You’re jaded.”

“Yeah, so?”

“No, I mean about money, if you can call two mil chump change.”

“I am not.” The insult went deep. “You’re in for two, then you get bloody. Stakes go up when there’s blood, and you ask for more. Smalltime, it’s small-time. Has to be another reason he took Trudy out.”

“Lover’s quarrel, maybe. No honor among thieves. Maybe she was trying to cut him out.”

“Yeah, greed always works.”

Her ‘link beeped on the way to the car. “Dallas.”

“Complications?” Roarke said.

“A few.” She filled him in. “You’re on for ECC status if you want and can fit it in.”

“I’ve a few things to deal with I’d rather not shift, but I’ll touch base with Feeney. I should be able to work on it a bit at home this evening. In the company of my lovely wife.”

Eve’s shoulders automatically hunched together, particularly when she noted Peabody looking her way with fluttering eyelashes. “My day’s pretty packed. I’m going to go by the lab now… No, shit, meet first, then lab. Gotta do some media spinning, so I’m tagging Nadine. Appreciate the assist if you manage it.”

“Not a problem. Squeeze some food into your schedule.”

“I’m having lunch with Nadine at some stupid place.”

“Scentsational,” Peabody told him, leaning over enough to get a glimpse of his face on the ‘link screen.

“Well, now, the world’s full of surprises. Let me know what you think of it.”

It only took Eve a beat. “Yours?”

“A man’s got to keep his hand in. I’ve a lunch meeting myself. Try the nasturtium salad. It’s very nice.”

“Yeah, that’s going to happen. Later. That’s flowers, right?” she asked Peabody when she ended transmission.

“Edible ones.”

“In my world, flowers aren’t on the menu.”

* * *

Apparently they were in Roarke’s world. They could be sampled, sipped, and sniffed, all in one elaborate setting where the tables rose up on graceful stems and bloomed in a garden of colors.

The air smelled like a meadow, which Eve assumed was supposed to be a good thing.

The floor was some sort of green glass, translucent so the flowers thriving below shimmered in a sophisticated garden. There were various levels, up trios of steps. An arbor arched over the bar, where diners could order flowery or herbal drinks as well as the more pedestrian wines.

Nadine sat at a table near a little lagoon where golden fish swam among water lilies. She’d done something to her hair, Eve noted, straightening its usual waves and fluffs so it was sleek, streaky rain angled around her face.

She looked sharper, somehow honed, suited up in pansy purple. She wore an earpiece, and spoke softly into it between sips of something very pink and very frothy.

“Gotta go. Hold everything for the next hour. Yes, everything.” She tugged off the earpiece, dropped it into her purse. “Isn’t this a place? I’ve been dying to come here.”