“We’re good. You alone, Charles?”
“Yes. Louise is doing a run with the medi-van tonight. These kind of temps make it rougher than usual on street people.”
“No client tonight?”
Something came and went in his eyes, but his smile stayed easy. “Actually, I had a cancellation. So it’s especially nice to see friends. Have a seat.”
“It’s police business, Charles.”
“I was getting an inkling.”
“About your client, Ava Anders.”
“Is she all right?” Concern, and hints of alarm sounded in his voice. “She’s not—”
“No, but her husband is.” Eve angled her head. “It’s been all over the media since this morning. You hadn’t heard?”
“No.” He closed his eyes a moment. “No, I hadn’t. I’ve been busy today, and had…things on my mind. I haven’t turned on the screen or looked at any reports. Thomas Anders is dead? Murdered since you’re here. Surely you don’t think Ava’s responsible.”
“Let’s backtrack. Ava Anders is a client.”
“Did she tell you that?”
“Her financials did.”
“Then, as you have the information already, yes, she’s a client.”
“And the services you provide her?”
“Dallas, you know I can’t. You know there has to be confidentiality between me and a client. I can’t discuss the arrangement without her consent. Sit down, will you?” He said it wearily. “I’m getting a drink. Do you want anything?”
“We’re fine, Charles.” Roarke nudged Eve to a chair while Charles crossed to a sleek wet bar.
“How was he killed?”
“In bed, in what appears to be a sexual bondage and erotic asphyxiation accident.”
“Oh Christ.” Charles dropped ice into a short glass, poured whiskey over it. “Ava—”
“Wasn’t there,” Eve finished, and waited while he took the first sip. “It doesn’t seem to surprise you—the manner of death, that his wife wasn’t there. Would that be because she wasn’t into the kink, or was too good at it to mess it up?”
“You’ll want to ask her that. You’re putting me in a position, Dallas.”
“How many did you put Ava in?”
He laughed, quick and amused, and the tension in his face dissolved. “You’ll have to ask her that, too.”
“How about this? How did she come to be a client?”
“Referral.” With the whiskey, he crossed back over, slid into a chair. “And no, I’m not going to tell you who. Not without consent. Dallas, my reputation and integrity hinge on consent, and on trust.”
>
Eve sat back, debated different angles. “You’d be, arguably, an expert on relationships.” When he laughed again, shook his head, she lifted her hands. “What? You trade in relationships. You told me once it’s not only the sex, but the relationship the client pays for.”
“True enough.” And the strain was back on his face. “Yes, that’s true enough.”
“Charles, it’s not my business,” Roarke interrupted, “but as a friend I’ll ask if everything’s all right between you and Louise?”