Visions in Death (In Death 19)
Page 23
Eve knew who she was. Moira O’Bannion, formerly of Dublin. The woman who’d known Roarke’s mother, and after more than thirty years had told him that what he’d known of his beginnings was a lie based on murder.
Sickness curdled in Eve’s belly.
“Moira O’Bannion, Eve Dallas, Delia Peabody.”
“I’m so glad to meet you. I hope Roarke is well.”
“He’s good. He’s fine.” Sweat began to slide like cold grease down her spine.
“Moira’s one of our treasures. I stole her.”
Moira laughed. “Recruited, we’ll say. Though dragooned wouldn’t be far off. Louise is fierce. You’re having the tour.”
“Not exactly. It’s not a social call.”
“Ah. I should let you get to business then. How’s Jana doing?”
“Four centimeters dilated, thirty percent effaced last check. She’s got a ways to go.”
“Let me know when she’s ready, will you? We’re all excited about the new baby.” Moira smiled at Peabody. “It’s good to meet you both, and I hope you won’t be strangers. My very best to Roarke,” she said to Eve and stepped out of their way.
“Moira’s brilliant,” Louise said as she led the way to the next level. “She’s making a big difference here. I’ve been able to—ha—dragoon some of the best therapists, doctors, psychiatrists, and counselors in the city. I bless the day you stomped into my clinic downtown, Dallas. It was the start of the twisty path that led me here.”
She opened a door, gestured them inside. “Not to mention leading me to Charles.” Briskly, she walked to a cabinet, and opened it to reveal a minifridgie. “Which reminds me, we’re setting up that dinner party I keep trying to pull off. Night after tomorrow, Charles’s place—it’s cozier than mine—eight o’clock. Suit you and McNab, Peabody?”
“Sure. Sounds like fun.”
“I’ve cleared it with Roarke.” She handed both Eve and Peabody a bottled protein booster.
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 fancil
y 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?”