Golden in Death (In Death 50)

He shrugged, drank. “As far as I know they did, as she moved to East Washington just before the first of the year. I filed for divorce, as we agreed, included a settlement. She came back to finalize it, and I haven’t seen or spoken to her since.”

“Do you still have the photographs?”

He looked both surprised by the question and amused. “Why would I? I kept them, in case, until the divorce finalized. Then I destroyed them. A blip,” he reminded her with another half toast. “And as we had a very satisfying private life during that blip, worth the cost.”

He drank. “Added to it, the priceless lesson she taught me. Marriage is for fools. Why legalize and complicate what you can simply enjoy?”

Turning, he kissed Iryna’s cheek. “Isn’t that right, my sweet?”

“Yes, Mr. Greenwald.”

He laughed, gave her thigh a quick squeeze. “Isn’t she adorable?”

“Just precious. Iryna, where were you last night?”

She folded her lips, looked at Greenwald.

“Go ahead.”

“We have—had—a dinner party. Cocktails and hors d’oeuvres from seven to eight. At eight there was dinner and more conversation. At ten coffee and brandy.”

“Okay.” Eve pushed to her feet. “Thanks for your time.”

“I will escort you to the door.”

As they approached it, Eve murmured to Iryna, “If you’re not happy here, I can help you.”

Iryna sent her a look of genuine surprise. “No, I am very happy. Mr. Greenwald is very kind, and very generous.” She opened the door for Eve. “He does not hurt me. I know what it is like when men do. He does not, and would not, as he has no violence, so I am happy.”

“All right. If anything changes, you can contact me.”

Eve walked to the elevator and wondered what Iryna had experienced to be happy with a man old enough to be her grandfather simply because he didn’t hurt her.

13

She drove through the gates after dark, and there they were. All those welcoming lights.

She had to stop, just lower her head to the steering wheel. Until that moment, she hadn’t realized how much the day had dragged at her. All the death, all the grief, all the ugliness.

So she pushed it back, swallowed it down, and drove the rest of the way home.

She got her file bag—her day wasn’t nearly over. She’d reached the names on her list, issued the warnings, struck fear into more than one person, more than one family.

But better fear than death.

She walked inside, where Summerset waited. He took a look at her.

“I’d say look what the cat dragged in, but he’s been here all day.”

Rather than punching back, she tossed her jacket over the newel post. “Don’t open any packages. Even if you’re expecting them.”

He stepped forward as she started up the stairs. “All deliveries are scanned.”

“Don’t open any, scanned or not. Just don’t.”

“Very well.” He frowned after her as she continued up with the cat on her heels.

She went straight to her office, got coffee, checked first to make sure all the names from Gold had been notified.