Vendetta in Death (In Death 49)

“What’s that mean?”

With a roll of her eyes, Mavis mimed a mound over her belly. “Encore! Knocked Up, The Return!”

“What? You’re … again?”

“Again!” Mavis executed three pirouettes, then a booty shake. “Sperm, egg, touchdown.” Then she mimed spiking the ball and what may have been a volcano erupting.

“I’ve been totally dying to tell you.” She dropped onto the arm of Eve’s chair, grabbed her in a fierce hug. “I’ve got two-plus months in—even had to pretend to drink wine at Nadine’s bash ’cause we thought people would guess if I didn’t. We were going to wait through the first tri, but here you are, and I can’t, and now we can tell Peabody and McNab when they come over tonight, and I can tell Trina, and—oh, every-damn-body. You had to be first because total BFF, even though it weirds you.”

“It doesn’t weird me.” At Mavis’s snort, Eve had to concede. “Okay, some. But you’re happy. You look crazed, but I read it as happy.”

“Happy squared times a gazillion. Leonardo and I wanted to have kids close together—you know, so they could be buds—and we decided to start to hit it right after Bellamina turned one.”

She slid down, squeezed into the chair with Eve to cuddle much as Bella had. “Do you remember how I got all whacked that time when I was pregnant with Belle, how I was afraid I’d just blow at being a mom, how I’d screw it all up? And you told me I’d be mag, I’d be a totally good mom?”

“You are.”

“I am. My moonpie and me, we’re good at this. He’s everything a daddy should be. I’m so lucky, Dallas. I’m so freaking blessed.” She turned her face into Eve’s shoulder, weeping. “And I’m so freaking hyped on hormones.”

“Okay.” Eve patted her back. “Okay.”

With a sigh, Mavis settled in. “I never thought I’d be here. Not here-here. Okay that, too, but you know, here. With someone so abso-mag like Leonardo, with a daughter who’s sunshine and rainbows and everything good. With a life that’s not just grabbing what you can grab when you can grab it and not worrying about what’s next. Freaking blessed, Dallas.”

“You deserve it.”

“Getting arrested by you was the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“Glad I could help.”

With a watery laugh, Mavis shook her head. “Serious, because it started me to here. Anyway, Leonardo and I want you and Roarke there, like with Bella.”

“There …” Terror gripped her by the throat. “Mavis, listen—”

“We’ll talk about it, but now I need to fix my face back up. And probably puke. Yeah, pretty sure I need to boot.”

Mavis wiggled up, hurried out, and Eve sat just as she was.

In there, again, she thought. In the room where it happened. Again.

“Jesus Christ, what have I done to earn this torment?”

14

One thing a visit with a chatty toddler and a pregnant Mavis Accomplished—it cleared Eve’s mind every bit as thoroughly as a sweaty workout.

In fact she felt just a little breathless by the time she made it up to her office. Even though she got a cookie out of it.

She tossed her jacket over a chair, programmed a pot of coffee.

When she checked for incoming at her command center, she found Dickhead’s report, and made a note to hit Roarke up for the tickets.

Another report from EDD told her Pettigrew hadn’t kept a list like McEnroy. He simply kept a calendar on his office unit—under a pass-coded personal file—marking dates, times when he booked a licensed companion.

More often than not, he also booked a hotel room for the encounter, but he had a scatter of those bookings at his home. According to EDD, the home visits coordinated with out-of-town dates on Horowitz’s calendar on her home unit.

Older calendars indicated he used hotels exclusively during his marriage. He didn’t take chances with his ex, before she became his ex, Eve mused.

Because Horowitz was easier to fool?