Vendetta in Death (In Death 49)

With her eyes steady on that pale face, those shocked eyes, Eve pressed. “Your whereabouts, Ms. Pettigrew.”

“Here. I was here.” Darla fumbled a napkin off the coffee tray, dabbed at her streaming eyes. “I rarely go out. I told you my grandmother isn’t well. I’m her primary caregiver.”

“Was anyone with you?”

“Grand, of course. The day nur

se left at five. She’s very pleased with Grand’s progress. We took a short walk yesterday afternoon, then the nurse helped her bathe.

“I can’t think, I just can’t think! Oh, Thaddeus.”

“And after the nurse left,” Eve prompted.

“We had dinner about six, I think. Grand was already tired—she tires so easily. It frustrates her, as she’s always been so active. By around eight, I had her in bed, and we watched a vid. She drifted off watching it, but I sat with her, finished watching it. I went to my own room to read. I keep an intercom by the bed so I can hear her if she’s restless or ill. I checked on her before I went to bed. I think by midnight. I woke about three, I think. I don’t know why. I thought I heard her, but when I went in to check, she was fine. Sleeping. I went back to bed.

“I haven’t been out of the house since we took the walk with Donnalou—the nurse. Thaddeus,” she murmured as those brimming eyes spilled over again. “I just can’t believe it. Did I wake because I sensed … That’s crazy, I know it’s crazy, but I woke and felt something was wrong. I thought it was Grand.

“Thaddeus.”

She pushed to her feet. “I’m sorry, you have to excuse me a moment. I need a moment.” She rushed out of the room.

“Man. This hit her hard.”

“You think?” Eve said, cold and cynical. “You’re married for a chunk of your life to a guy who decides to ditch you for a younger skirt, and takes the bulk of the money from a company you co-own—and maybe, like the divorce, didn’t want to sell. Are you going to still have stars in your eyes over him?”

“Well, probably not,” Peabody admitted. “But some people do hang on to what was. And maybe hold on to hope they can get it back. Like if Roarke pulled something stupid like that, you wouldn’t be able to just turn off how you feel about him.”

“Maybe not. But I’d have already peeled the skin from his body, fried it up, and fed it to the wolves.”

“Huh.” Peabody drank more coffee. “Some people just get their hearts broken. Still …”

She trailed off as a panel in the wall opened, and a woman stepped out.

Eloise Callahan was no longer the vibrant young bride in the painting, but she wore her ninety-plus years well. Her hair, still blond—with, Eve assumed, plenty of assistance—waved around a face where beauty hadn’t faded. It lived in the bones, in the eyes the same blue as the chandelier.

She looked frail, a little pale, but had obviously gone to some trouble to counteract that with expertly applied enhancers, with the silky flow of black pants and a rose-pink tunic.

Peabody surged to her feet, actually stammered. “Oh-oh, Ms. Callahan.”

“Detective Peabody.” Her voice, like the silk, came soft and smooth as she slowly crossed the room. “What a treat! Ariel said we had visitors, and finally told me who. I am such a fan! Eve Dallas. Oh my.” She clasped Peabody’s hand, then Eve’s before she lowered herself into a chair.

“I want to thank you both for all you do for the city I love. I came here to lose myself after I lost my love.” She looked to the painting. “Beautiful, weren’t they? The city, its energy, kept me going, helped me push myself back into the world, back into the work Bradley and I both loved.”

“I … my granny marched with you,” Peabody blurted out.

“Oh? Did she? Who’s your granny?”

“Josie McNamara.”

“No! Josie?” Eloise let out a bright laugh, clapped her hands together. “Josie, really? How marvelous! I’ll be damned. I remember Josie so, so well. What a spitfire. Tell me she’s still with us.”

“Yes, ma’am, and still a spitfire.”

“Of course she is.” She laughed again, full and rich. “Oh, what times we had. You tell Josie that El sends her the very best. God, what times we had,” she repeated. “Changed the world some, too, by God! Is that black coffee?” she asked Eve.

“Yes.”

“Could I just …”