“It was lovely to meet you.” Rising, Roarke took her hand. “Stay well.”
“I’m doing all I can. Good night.”
She did waddle, Eve noted. Who wouldn’t with that front-end load?
“I’m sorry if that seemed abrupt. She’s had some complications, and she’s on modified bed rest for the duration now. And the doctor made it clear she’s not to be upset or stressed.”
He looked after his wife another moment, then poured out the coffee. “I’m assuming since you’re here—I’m aware of what you do, Lieutenant—something’s very wrong. Did something happen to one of my family, or DeAnna’s?”
“No. Just black’s fine.” She took the cup, waited for him to serve Roarke and sit again. “You had drinks with Larinda Mars this evening.”
“I … Yes.”
“Can you tell me what time you left Du Vin?”
“About six-thirty, quarter to seven, somewhere around there. I think was home by about seven. Why?”
“What’s your relationship with Ms. Mars?”
Everything in his face tightened. “We have no relationship.”
“Yet you spent nearly an hour together over drinks.”
He picked up the brandy he’d set aside when they’d come in. “You could call it a business meeting.”
“What sort of business?”
“Mine. If Mars is determined to cause trouble, I’ll have my lawyers deal with her. I won’t have my wife upset. If she’s filed some sort of complaint or made some accusation, I—”
“She’s dead.”
Eve said it flatly, watched for reaction.
“I don’t care what she … What?” Now his face went slack, as if from a gut punch. “What did you say?”
“I said Larinda Mars is dead.”
He simply stared, showing confusion. “But we were just…” Confusion flashed into shock. “Oh God. My God. I left the bar. She was still there. Someone had to see me leave—there must be security. I was home around seven, by seven-fifteen. House security will show that. Lanie will verify that. Please, don’t question DeAnna. Please, don’t upset her.”
He shoved off the love seat, rubbing his fingers on his temples as he paced. “She left the table—we were done and she left—not the bar. She went downstairs. The restroom, I assume. I sat there for another minute or two, then I paid the bill and left. I paid the bill, got my coat, and left. She hadn’t come back. I came straight home. I took a cab. I’m sure you can check that.
“When was she killed?”
“You assume she was killed?”
“You said she’s dead. You’re Homicide. Yes, I assume.” He snapped it out, then quickly looked toward the archway. Took a long breath. “She was alive when I left the bar.”
“She was attacked in the bar. Downstairs.”
“Attacked?” He sat again. “I’m not surprised. She was a vulture, a vampire. I couldn’t be the only one.”
“The only one?”
“Who detested her. I barely knew her, and detested her. If she was attacked, someone must have heard, or seen. I couldn’t have sat there more than two or three minutes after she got up. I couldn’t have been in the bar a full five minutes after she got up. How could I follow her down and beat her to death—or wring her neck—and get back out in five minutes?”
Eve eyed him coolly. “Is that what you wanted to do? Beat her to death or wring her neck?”
“The thought occurred,” he muttered, then shut his eyes. “I should get my lawyers. I know better, but—” Opening his eyes again, he looked toward the archway. “I’ll tell you everything—freely. I only ask that you don’t involve my wife. A couple of weeks, they say. Longer is better, but in a couple of weeks, we’ll be in the clear if she goes into labor. Please, we need that time.”