Golden in Death (In Death 50)

“So the toxicity dissipated. Were there windows open?”

“No, but yes, it dissipated or disbursed or faded. How were they financially?”

“Martin and Kent? I’d say very comfortable.”

“And Kent’s practice? Successful? Lucrative?”

“God, it must be dark in a cop’s world.” Louise sighed again. “You have to think maybe someone killed Kent for money. It certainly wouldn’t be Martin, whom I’d assume would benefit most there. Or their kids. Lissa—that’s Melissa Rendi—worked with him, as the practice needed two doctors. She strikes me as a good doctor, but she wouldn’t gain monetarily that I know of.”

“We’ve met their circle of friends, Dallas,” Charles continued. “I wouldn’t say we know them all intimately, but there isn’t anyone we do know who I can believe would hurt Kent. I know you said it was addressed to him, but could it still be random? Like, Jesus, a name pulled out of a hat.”

“Yes.”

But she didn’t think so.

“Is there anything we can do to help? I could work with Morris if—”

“Not my call. And not a good idea.”

“I’m a doctor. I’m a scientist. I can be objective.”

“He was a friend, and he gave time to your clinic. Better if you keep a step, several of them, back from the investigation. I’ll tell you what I can when I can,” Eve added. “It’s the best I can do.”

“A man suffered a loss,” Roarke said gently, “from what I’ve heard here, a great one, a deep one. I would think he would welcome the comfort of good friends at such a time.”

“He’s with his family,” Louise murmured.

“Isn’t it only blood, just DNA, that separates good friends, true friends, from family?”

Louise’s eyes filled again. “Yes. Thanks. Yes. We’ll contact him in the morning. I know you probably told us more than you wanted to,” she said to Eve. “It won’t leave this room, I promise you. I’m really grateful. You know my complicated relationship with my own family. Kent—well, Martin, too—they’ve been surrogate fathers to me. Roarke’s right. It’s just DNA.”

When they left, Eve sat back. “She looked steadier when she walked out. What you said helped.”

“It all helped. And, as tragic as it is for our friends, it’s a help to you to know and trust two people who appear to have known your victim so well.”

“It doesn’t hurt.”

“Now, how can I help you, Lieutenant?”

She smiled at him. “I thought about that when I was driving home. Not what you could do, but that you’d ask. That you’d make me eat something, probably get some wine into me. You’d listen and offer to help.”

She angled her head. “Do you think we’re sweet together?”

“It would entirely depend on what level of sweet, wouldn’t it?”

“The right level, for us. I say we sometimes hit that. I need to set up the board and book. If you want, you can poke around in the financials—the vic, the spouse, the practice. It’s not going to be the lever, but we need to cross it off.”

“Poking about in other people’s money? A sweet reward for me.”

She did all she could do—lab and sweeper and ME reports still pending. And since Peabody had the interviews at the victim’s office set for seven-thirty, she had her schedule for the morning in place.

Interview, morgue, lab—all before she got to Central. Hopefully, some of the answers she drew in that mix would start clearing a path.

Who targets a well-liked man, a valued doctor, a loving and loved husband and father for fast, ugly death?

She’d damn well find out.

But since she’d done all she could for the night, she decided both she and Roarke had earned one more sweet reward.