Delusion in Death (In Death 35)

“Totally, but—okay, sweet potato. Bella hears your voice. Hang a mo.”

“Das!” Belle’s pretty face popped on screen. Eve had a flash of that pretty face, with tears streaming.

“Hey, kid.”

“Das, Das, Das,” she repeated, and bouncing launched into a long, incomprehensible babble, ending with, “Kay? Kay, Das?”

“Ah, sounds good. You do that.”

“Say bye, Belle. Bye-bye.”

“Bye, bye, Das! Bye slooch!”

Lips pursed, Belle pecked kisses at the screen. Sliding her gaze right and left—in case any other driver might catch a glimpse—Eve gave a single peck back. “See ya.”

“Ya!”

“She wants you to watch her swim,” Mavis said.

“How do you know that?”

“I’m multilingual-like. I speak Belle.”

“If you say so. Gotta go.”

“Stay chilly, stay safe.”

“That’s the plan. Talk later.”

Satisfied, oddly relieved, Eve ordered the disc to audio. She listened to data on the MacMillons the rest of the way to Central.

She tagged Peabody the minute she’d parked in the garage. “Where are you?”

“Walking into Central.”

“Grab me a coffee—real coffee from my office, then meet me in the conference room. I need to fill you in.”

“On that.”

Time to fill her in, Eve decided as she muscled onto the packed elevator. On a lot of levels.

15

Eve worked the board, running through data, connections, time lines as she added them.

Callaway to Hubbard to MacMillon to Menzini. How many turns, decisions, mistakes made in that chain? she wondered. All of them leading to this.

And how long had Callaway simmered, stewed, planned? How long had some suit whose purpose was to sell products—half of which people didn’t need in the first place—dreamed of murder?

And how long had he known murder was his legacy?

She thought of her recent dreams. Murder and misery could have been her legacy, if she’d reached for it, if she’d opened that door instead of another.

So now she stood here, studying murder—the victims, the killer, the whys, the hows. Another path, another choice, she might have been up on a board like this, with someone else doing the studying, the wondering.

Mira was right, she determined, in reality and dreams. It always came down to choices.

She heard Peabody’s clumping footsteps, then caught the scent of coffee.