“Oh crap.”
Nadine fluttered her lashes. “You’re just too sentimental for your own good. So. Do you think a big-girl party at your place? You could rent a ballroom—or hell, a planet—but Peabody and I thought something more fun and informal at your house.”
“Peabody.” Eve uttered the word like it was a betrayal.
“We’ve chatted about it a couple times.”
“Why don’t you chat about it lots more, then I’ll show up when and where.”
Nadine beamed, flicked a hand in the air as if tapping a magic wand. “Presto and perfect. Just what we hoped. Now, next order of business.” Nadine reached in her city-swallowing bag and came out with a disc. “This is it. The book.”
“Uh-huh.”
“My book, Dallas. Deadly Perfection: The Icove Agenda. Or it will be the book when I turn it in. I want you to read it first.”
“Why? I was there, so I already know how it ends.”
“Exactly why. You were there, and you stopped it. Risked your life to stop it. I want you to tell me if I went off and where. This is important, Dallas, not just to me. Though, oh boy, it really is. It’s important information. It’s an important story, and it wouldn’t be a story, it wouldn’t be my story, without you.”
“Yeah, yeah, but—”
“Please read it. Please.”
Eve couldn’t even work up a scowl. “Oh balls.”
“And be honest, be brutal. I’m a big girl, too. I want it to be right. I want it to matter.”
“Okay, okay.” Eve took the disc, laid it on her desk. To compensate, she picked up a doughnut. “I’ve got work, Nadine. Bye.”
“You said ‘maybe.’” Nadine gestured back toward the murder board.
She had, and not just because of the doughnuts. Nadine might sink her teeth into a story like a terrier, but she never forgot there were people inside it. And she kept her word. “The NYPSD has confirmed through medical records that the man poisoned in St. Cristóbal’s was not Miguel Flores, but an as of yet unidentified individual who posed as same.”
“Holy shit.”
“Yeah, that sums it.”
“Where’s Miguel Flores? What medical records?” Nadine dug her recorder out of her bag. “Do you have any lines on the victim’s real identity, and is the motive tied to that?”
“Down, girl. Police are pursuing all leads.”
“Don’t hand me the departmental line, Dallas.”
“The departmental line works. We are pursuing all leads. We don’t know the whereabouts of Miguel Flores, but are actively pursuing. At this time, we’re also pursuing the theory that the victim’s real identity may have gone to motive.”
“So someone recognized him.”
“It’s a theory, not a fact in evidence. The victim had some facial surgery, which leads us to believe he had it done to more closely resemble Flores.”
“He posed as a priest for five years—close to six, right?”
“Maybe longer. We’ve got to confirm various details.”
“And nobody suspected? The other priests he worked with, the people who attended his church?”
“Apparently, he was good at it.”
“Why do you think—”