“Clumsy how?”
“She went through a stage where she tripped over her own feet quite often, or bumped into objects and had more than her share of bumps and scrapes. At my recommendation the Renquists had her vision checked, but her sight was quite perfect. It was simply a matter of a lack of coordination, and a slightly skittish nature. She grew out of it.”
“When would you say she grew out of it?”
“At about twelve, I suppose. She developed grace at a stage when many young girls lose theirs. Puberty is a difficult period, but Sarah bloomed during hers.”
“And about this time, when she developed grace and stopped turning up with cuts and bruises, her brother was sent to Eton. Would that be about right?”
“I suppose it would. Doubtless having my undivided time and attention helped her gain more poise and confidence. Now, if that’s all—”
“Just one more thing. Do you recall if there were any other family pets that went missing during your time with the Renquists? Other animals in the neighborhood that ran away?”
“Other people’s pets weren’t my concern. I have no recollection.”
“Were you following me in there?” Eve asked Roarke when they stood on the sidewalk.
“Clear enough. You’re looking to establish whether or not this Renquist had an abusive female authority figure in his childhood. Whether or not he, in turn, abused his younger, female, sibling. Whether or not he may, as is often the case with serial or torture killers, killed or tortured pets.”
“Textbook stuff,” Eve agreed. “And what’s funny is she didn’t follow the dots. That tells me she’s either oblivious or stupid, hiding something, or the possibility she might have helped raise a psychopath doesn’t enter her tidy little world.”
“What’s your money on?”
“The last one. She’s a pincher, all right, and worse. You get a lot of her type in the foster system. Somebody like her wouldn’t consider she had a mentally or emotionally twisted charge as long as the kid presented the illusion of submission.”
“Did you?”
“Not so much, but I could when it was worth my while. And I know a lot of kids, most kids, come through something like that and lead normal lives. Renquist could be one of them. His sister might very well have been clumsy. But I don’t like coincidence. I’ve got to mull this over and I’ve got to go meet the Boston cop.”
“I’ll drop you.”
“No, better I catch a cab or take the underground. This guy sees me show up in a hot car with a fancy piece behind the wheel, he’s not going to like me.”
“You know how I love being referred to as your fancy piece.”
“Sometimes you’re my love muffin.”
He managed a strangled laugh. She could, at the oddest times, surprise him. “And I try my very best to earn the name. In any case, I’ve got some business I can take care of. Why don’t you contact me when you’ve finished, and let me know what comes next?”
“You’re pretty amenable for a fancy piece.”
He leaned down and kissed her lightly. “I’ve been thoroughly disciplined.”
“My ass.”
“Which is certainly part of the package. No rush,” he added as he slid into the car. “I’m going to be at least an hour myself.”
It took Eve over a quarter of that to travel through the hideous Boston traffic. It still put her at the bar and grill a half block from Haggerty’s station house ahead of time.
It was a typical cop haunt—good, cheap food and drink with no fancy notes. Booths, a scatter of two and four tops, and plenty of stools along the bar.
There were a number of off-shift cops, in and out of uniform, winding down from the day. Attention slid her way when she entered, the brief beat of observation, then recognition of breed. Cop to cop.
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She’d expected Haggerty to come in early—marking his territory—and wasn’t surprised by the signal from a lone man at a table.
He was toughly built—bull-chested, big-shouldered, with a ruddy, square face topped by a short crop of sandy hair. He studied her as she crossed the room.