Glory in Death (In Death 2)

“Tell him I’m here, and that I see him now, or down at Cop Central.”

“He’s—he’s in a meeting.”

“Now.”

“I’ll call through.” She swiveled and punched a button for private communication. She murmured the message and apologies while Eve stood fuming.

“If you would wait in his office for a moment, Lieutenant—” the receptionist began and rose.

“I know the way,” Eve snapped, striding across the plush carpet through the towering double doors and into Roarke’s New York sanctum.

There had been a time when she would have helped herself to a cup of coffee or wandered over to admire his view from a hundred fifty stories up. Today she stood, every nerve quivering with temper. And beneath that was fear.

The panel on the east wall slid open silently, and he walked through. He still wore the dark suit he’d chosen for the memorial service. As the panel closed behind him, he fingered the button in his pocket that belonged on Eve’s gray jacket.

“You were quick,” he said easily. “I thought I would finish my board meeting before you came by.”

“You think you’re clever,” she shot back. “Giving me just enough to start digging with. Damn it, Roarke, you’re right in the middle of this.”

“Am I?” Unconcerned, he walked to a chair, sat, stretched out his legs. “And how is that, Lieutenant?”

“You owned the damn casino where Slade was gambling. You owned the fucking fleabag hotel where the woman died. You had an unlicensed hooker working your hellhole.”

“Unlicensed companions in Sector 38?” He smiled a little. “Why, I’m shocked.”

“Don’t get cute with me. It connects you. Mercury was bad enough, but this is deeper. Your statement’s on record.”

“Naturally.”

“Why are you making it so hard for me to keep your name out of this?”

“I’m not interested in making it hard or easy for you, Lieutenant.”

“Fine, then. Just fine.” If he could be cold, so could she. “Then we’ll just get the questions and answers out of the way and move on. You knew Slade.”

“Actually, I didn’t. Not personally. Actually, I’d forgotten all about it, and him, until I did some research of my own. Wouldn’t you like some coffee?”

“You forgot you were involved in a murder investigation?”

“Yes.” Idly, he steepled his hands. “It wasn’t the first brush I’d had with the police, nor apparently, is it the last. In the grand scheme of things, Lieutenant, it really didn’t concern me.”

“Didn’t concern you,” she repeated. “You had Slade tossed out of your casino.”

“I believe the manager of the casino handled that.”

“You were there.”

“Yes, I was there, somewhere on the premises, in any case. Dissatisfied clients often become rowdy. I didn’t pay much attention at that time.”

She took a deep breath. “If it meant so little, and the entire matter slipped your mind, why did you sell the casino, the hotel, everything you owned in Sector 38 within forty-eight hours of Cicely Towers’s murder?”

He said nothing for a moment, his eyes on hers. “For personal reasons.”

“Roarke, just tell me so I can put this whole connection to bed. I know the sale didn’t have anything to do with Towers’s murder, but it looks dicey. ‘For personal reasons’ isn’t good enough.”

“It was for me. At the time. Tell me, Lieutenant Dallas, are you thinking I decided to blackmail Cicely over her future son-in-law’s youthful indiscretion, had some henchman in my employ lure her to the West End, and when she didn’t cooperate, slit her throat?”

She wanted to hate him for putting her in the position of having to answer. “I told you I didn’t believe you had anything to do with her death, and I meant it. You’ve put me in a position where it’s a scenario we’ll have to work with. One that will take time and manpower away from finding the killer.”