Dark in Death (In Death 46)

“Next month?”

“The Oscars. You’re going, aren’t you? I hope you’re going. What an experience. And listen to me, blathering on when you must be here to see Blaine. I talked her into going up to her office to write, take her mind off things. She’s so upset about that poor girl. Come in, sit. I’ve got the fire on. Spring can’t come soon enough.”

She led them out of the wide foyer with its vase of fragrant lilies on a glossy table, its big oval mirror and pretty, girlie chairs, into a spacious living area where a fire snapped in a hearth of dark gray brick flanked by tall white cabinets. On the mantel over the hearth stood more flowers, candles, and a large painting of what Eve thought might be tulips.

Lacy curtains fussed at the windows that let winter light slide inside in frilly patterns. Soft throws draped artistically over the backs of facing sofas, while the pillows Eve assumed women loved simply because lined the seats.

“Let me take your coats, and you make yourselves at home while I get Blaine.”

“Thanks. We’d like to speak with you, too, Mrs. DeLano.”

“Audrey, please. And I’ll confess, I’d be thrilled to be interviewed by Dallas and Peabody. I know it’s a terrible situation, but if there’s a silver lining, you should find it. I’ll go get Blaine.”

She carted off the coats, steps brisk in her house skids.

“This is a really nice house,” Peabody commented as she wandered around. “I really like this room. It’s girlie, but it’s comfortable girlie.”

She sat in one of the occasional chairs, snugged her butt in. “Really comfortable, and it smells really good.”

Eve scanned the photos on the cabinet shelves. Family shots, generational. Baby pictures, little girls, young women, mothers and daughters—some men sprinkled in. One of Audrey, Blaine, and two teenage girls—Heather and Piper, Eve remembered.

Photos, some books, lots of pretty, useless things.

She turned when she heard footsteps.

DeLano had changed since her morning visit to Central and now wore baggy gray pants, a hip-length blue sweater with a kangaroo pocket, and house booties designed to keep the feet warm.

“I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon,” she began, “or see you. I hope it means you’ve broken the case, or that, at least, found some way I can help.”

“We have some angles.”

“My mother said you wanted to speak with her as well. She’s excited about that.” DeLano let out a short laugh, sat on one of the sofas. “She’s followed your work closely since Nadine’s book. She’s just getting coffee—she likes to fuss, as we don’t get many visitors during the work-week. At least not until the girls, and often some of their friends, charge in from school.”

“How soon will that be?”

“The coffee?”

“Your daughters. When do you expect them home?”

“Oh, I …” She looked at her wrist, laughed. “No wrist unit. I don’t pay attention to the time when I’m working. What time is it?”

“Three-ten,” Peabody told her.

“Really? I lose track. Shortly then. If you want them out of the way, I can just—”

“Actually, we’d like to speak with them. With all of you.”

“Oh.” A worry line dug in between her eyebrows. “I haven’t spoken to them yet about any of this. They’ve been in school.”

“If you’d like time for that, we can wait.”

“No, I … No,” DeLano said more firmly. “They’re tough and they’re sensible. We can explain it all to them together. Just, can you tell me, should I be concerned for their safety?”

“I don’t think there’s any cause to be overly concerned at this time. But we’ll talk about that.”

Audrey carried in a loaded tray. Peabody jumped up to take it.

“Let me help you.”