Strangers In Death

5

“IF HE’S IN, ISN’T WITH A CLIENT, BUT WITH Louise?” Roarke stepped into the elevator in the elegant lobby of Charles’s apartment building.

Eve shrugged. “It’s not like she doesn’t know what he does for a living.” While she didn’t have any problem seeing how the smart, dedicated Dr. Dimatto fell for Charles-and he for her-she couldn’t quite work out how Louise so easily accepted his work.

“Why doesn’t it bother her? Seriously, it doesn’t. She’s not putting on a front. She’s in a serious relationship with a guy who has sex with other women for a living, and it doesn’t matter to her.”

“I married a cop.” Roarke smiled at her. “We all have our levels of acceptance. He was an LC when they met, just as she was a doctor, and one who often works in dangerous areas of the city.”

She shot him the same easy smile. “So…if I’d been an LC when we met, you wouldn’t have any problem with me banging other guys. Professionally.”

“None at all, as I’d kick your ass and murder all of them. But that’s just my level of acceptance.”

“Yes.” Pleased, she jabbed a finger into his chest. “That makes sense to me.”

“Which is why we’re suited, darling Eve, and neither of us with Charles or Louise. If Louise is here,” he added when the doors opened, “would you like me to take her off somewhere for a bit?”

“Let’s see how it plays.”

“And if he’s with a client-as I believe he only takes females-I’d be happy to engage her elsewhere while you work.”

“Sure, no problem. Remembering those acceptance levels, how suited we are, and how much you like having your balls kicked up to your throat.”

He put an arm around her waist for a sideways hug. “It is true love with us, isn’t it?”

“Hearts and flowers, every day.” She pushed the buzzer on Charles’s apartment door. In less than a minute, she saw the security light blink, flicked her gaze up to the camera. The light steadied to green; the door opened.

“This is a nice surprise. Roarke. Lieutenant Sugar.”

He stepped back in welcome. Charles Monroe was vid-star handsome, with a sheen of urban polish even in the casual at-home loose pants and sweater. His apartment with its strong colors, bold art, deep cushions reflected his easy sophistication and affection for comfort. Music, what Eve thought might’ve been vintage jazz, flowed through the air.

“What can I get you? Some wine? Or how about some Irish coffee?” He glanced around the room as he spoke, as if checking for something he’d misplaced. “God knows it’s cold enough out there.”

“We’re good. You alone, Charles?”

“Yes. Louise is doing a run with the medi-van tonight. These kind of temps make it rougher than usual on street people.”

“No client tonight?”

Something came and went in his eyes, but his smile stayed easy. “Actually, I had a cancellation. So it’s especially nice to see friends. Have a seat.”

“It’s police business, Charles.”

“I was getting an inkling.”

“About your client, Ava Anders.”

“Is she all right?” Concern, and hints of alarm sounded in his voice. “She’s not-”

“No, but her husband is.” Eve angled her head. “It’s been all over the media since this morning. You hadn’t heard?”

“No.” He closed his eyes a moment. “No, I hadn’t. I’ve been busy today, and had…things on my mind. I haven’t turned on the screen or looked at any reports. Thomas Anders is dead? Murdered since you’re here. Surely you don’t think Ava’s responsible.”

“Let’s backtrack. Ava Anders is a client.”

“Did she tell you that?”

“Her financials did.”

“Then, as you have the information already, yes, she’s a client.”

“And the services you provide her?”

“Dallas, you know I can’t. You know there has to be confidentiality between me and a client. I can’t discuss the arrangement without her consent. Sit down, will you?” He said it wearily. “I’m getting a drink. Do you want anything?”

“We’re fine, Charles.” Roarke nudged Eve to a chair while Charles crossed to a sleek wet bar.

“How was he killed?”

“In bed, in what appears to be a sexual bondage and erotic asphyxiation accident.”

“Oh Christ.” Charles dropped ice into a short glass, poured whiskey over it. “Ava-”

“Wasn’t there,” Eve finished, and waited while he took the first sip. “It doesn’t seem to surprise you-the manner of death, that his wife wasn’t there. Would that be because she wasn’t into the kink, or was too good at it to mess it up?”

“You’ll want to ask her that. You’re putting me in a position, Dallas.”

“How many did you put Ava in?”

He laughed, quick and amused, and the tension in his face dissolved. “You’ll have to ask her that, too.”

“How about this? How did she come to be a client?”

“Referral.” With the whiskey, he crossed back over, slid into a chair. “And no, I’m not going to tell you who. Not without consent. Dallas, my reputation and integrity hinge on consent, and on trust.”

Eve sat back, debated different angles. “You’d be, arguably, an expert on relationships.” When he laughed again, shook his head, she lifted her hands. “What? You trade in relationships. You told me once it’s not only the sex, but the relationship the client pays for.”

“True enough.” And the strain was back on his face. “Yes, that’s true enough.”

“Charles, it’s not my business,” Roarke interrupted, “but as a friend I’ll ask if everything’s all right between you and Louise?”

Charles looked at Roarke. “Yes, thanks. Everything’s very all right between me and Louise.”

“Now that we cleared that up,” Eve said, “let’s try it this way. Hypothetically, why would a woman, in a long-term, ostensively happy marriage seek the services of a licensed companion? And seek them on a regular basis.”

“Hypothetically.” Charles nodded. “It might be that the woman has needs, desires, even fantasies that aren’t or can’t be met within the marriage.”

“Why?”

Now he blew out a breath. “It might be that a woman isn’t comfortable seeking those needs and so on from her spouse, or the spouse isn’t comfortable or able to fulfill them. It might be by satisfying those needs with a professional, safely and confidentially, the marriage partners are more content. Not every marriage, however successful, gives both partners complete emotional or sexual satisfaction.”

“So what, they stay together to have conversation over dinner?”

“It might be as simple as that, but it’s usually considerably more complex. The fact is, sex, particularly a certain type of sex, is only one part of a relationship. I can’t give you details, Dallas. Not without Ava’s consent. If you get it, I’ll be happy to talk to you again.”

“Okay.” That would have to do. “Don’t contact her, Charles. If she tries to contact you, I’d appreciate it if you’d dodge until I’ve had a go with her on this.”

“All right. I can do that.”

“Good enough.” Eve rose. “I’ll be in touch. Hi to Louise and all that.”

“I’ll tell her.” He stood, leaned over to kiss Eve’s cheek.

I don’t get it. I don’t get it.” Eve frowned through the windshield as Roarke drove home. “I know he’s right, I know it’s true, but I don’t get it.”

“Precisely what would it be?”

“How you can have the sex outside marriage, and that’s just hunky with everybody involved? Why bother with the marriage thing?”

“Finances, companionship, habit, security, status.”

“Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit.”

“You really should learn to form more definite opinions.”

“And the other thing, that she can’t get all her jollies from within the marriage? Okay, true-I hear this all the time, especially after he kills her or vice versa, but what crap.” Sheer annoyance had her slumping down in her seat. “If you didn’t have the sex buzz, you shouldn’t have hooked up.”

“Sometimes the buzz changes frequencies for one of the partners.”

“Okay. All right. Say I want to change frequencies. I decide I want you to suck your thumb and call me Mommy while I paddle your cute ass.” She shifted her gaze to his profile. “What do you say?”

“I would probably suggest a reasonable compromise, such as I’d like to suck on something else, preferably something attached to you, and I’ll call you whatever you like. If spanking must be involved, we’ll just have to take turns there.”

“See.” She poked his shoulder. “That works for me.”

“I sincerely hope not, but we can see.”

“No.” She snorted out a laugh. “I mean it works for me that you’d say let’s modify a little if I came up with something weird.”

“Remember that the next time I want to tie you up with your own underwear and slather your naked body with raspberry sauce.”

She slid her eyes toward him again. “Was there a first time?”

“Could be.”

The man, she mused, continued to surprise her. “Back to the point. I can’t see a marriage staying solid if one or both partners enters into an intimate relationship elsewhere. And profession aside, the LC-client relationship is intimate.” She considered, mulled, as Roarke drove through the gates. “Maybe, for instance, you’re married to this guy, everything’s frosty, then he turns out to be gay as an Easter basket. You got a problem. Maybe you stick it out because of those reasons you named-money, habit, whatever. And maybe you go to a professional to get off. But is that a marriage or just an arrangement?”

“Is there love? Your view on this is narrow. That’s how you’re built.”

It didn’t feel narrow to her. It felt right. “Marriage is a promise. That’s one of the ways you talked me into it. If you break one part of the promise, it’s going to crack other parts.”

“Even if both parties agree?”

“I don’t know.” She got out of the car. “But I’m interested to hear how Ava Anders explains it.”

Inside, they started upstairs together. “It seems to me,” Roarke said, “that if she’d wanted to hide the payments to Charles, she’d have paid in cash. And speaking of Charles, did he seem distracted tonight? Even before he understood why we were there?”

“Yeah, something. Maybe some trouble in paradise, even though he said everything was fine.”

“That would be a pity. They work together very well.”

When she started to turn toward her office, he took her hand, tugged her in the opposite direction. “What? I’ve got work.”

“We both always have work. Now, it’s nearly midnight, and you’ve had a very long day.”

“I just want to-”

“So do I. I’m thinking of ordering up some raspberry sauce.”

“Funny guy. You’re a funny guy. Look, I just want another hour to-”

“I have other plans for your next hour.” Shifting position, he began to back her into the bedroom. “Here’s that compromise. That…modification.” He depressed the release on the weapon harness she’d strapped back on to go out.

“Maybe I’m not in the mood.”

“Then…” He trailed a finger down her throat, flipped open the first button of her shirt. “I suppose you’re going to be bored. Fire on.” He opened the next button as the flames flashed in the hearth. “Lights off.”

He continued to back her toward the platform, and the lake-sized bed it held, watching her eyes when her harness and then her shirt fell to the floor. “Step up,” he warned when they reached the platform. “And again.” Then he gave her a light shove so she fell back on the bed.

“I guess I’ll just lie here and take it.”

“You do that.” He lifted her leg, pulled off her boot.

“Don’t take it personally if I nod off.”

“Of course not.” He tossed the second boot aside. He ran his hands up her legs, smiling at her quiver when they stroked over her center on the way to the hook of her trousers. He drew them down her legs, let them drop.

Eve faked a yawn, tapped her hand over her mouth. “Sorry.”

He cocked a brow. There wasn’t another woman in the world, he thought, who could amuse, challenge, and arouse him as she did. He pulled off his sweater, tossed it aside, then sat on the side of the bed to remove his own boots. Behind him, she made exaggerating snorting sounds until he pinched her.

“Oh, sorry. Was I snoring?”

He stood, unhooked his trousers, stepped out of them. “Go back to sleep,” he said as he slid onto the bed, slid onto her. “This won’t take long.”

She started to laugh, and the sound strangled when he closed his teeth over her breast through the thin tank she wore. “Okay then.” She cleared the huskiness out of her throat. “I guess I can give you a few minutes.”

“Well, now, I appreciate that.” He caught her nipple, exquisite control, while he trailed a fingertip up her inner thigh, traced it at the edge of the simple cotton.

He heard her breath catch, and felt her muscles twitch, then the quiet moan when he slid just under the cotton. Slipping toward the heat and away again, teasing while her heart kicked to gallop under his relentless mouth. All that strength, all that wit, all that will melted into need beneath him.

His mouth found hers, took, as he stroked her up, still up, up to the quivering edge.

Then he rolled off. “Well, that ought to do it.”

Her body all but screamed in denial.

She levered up, straddled him. He was hard as iron, and his gorgeous face covered with humor. “Funny guy,” she said again. Crossing her arms, she tugged the tank up and off, then crooked both her index fingers. “Hands on, pal.”

“Well, if you insist.”

He cupped her breasts, brushed his thumbs over her nipples. She planted her hands on either side of his head, and leaning down, feasted on his mouth. The taste of him. She loved the taste of him, would never have her fill of it. The way his lips fit to hers, the glide of his tongue. She could spend hours, days, on his mouth alone, on the magic she found there.

With her breath quickened, her skin already hot, she flipped away, flopped onto her back. “That ought to do it.”

They lay where they were a moment, then turning their heads, grinned at each other. And dove.

She laughed, and groaned, she gasped and giggled. The sheer fun and foolishness added bold, bright color to the deeper tones of desire. His hands were quick; her mouth avid. Together they moved recklessly over the big bed, under the cold stars gleaming through the sky window.

He drove her over, and her cry was of cheerful pleasure. This, he thought, this, the unity, the adventure of it, would always delight him. Sustain him. Even when he was inside her, when the need pounded them both, the utter joy of what they’d found, what they’d made, rushed through him. She was the happiness he’d searched for all of his life.

Her eyes, gilded by firelight, stayed on his; her lips curved. When they sprang over that shining edge together, his heart simply soared.

Under him, limp, her heart still pounding, she sighed. “Now, that,” she said, “should definitely do it.”

In the morning, she glugged down coffee to spark her brain into handling the basic chore of getting dressed. Roarke, already dressed, alert-as was his irritating habit-scanned the stock reports while he drank his coffee in the bedroom sitting area.

“Warmer today, if you’re interested.”

She spoke from the depths of the closet. “Warmer than what?”

“Than a witch’s teat.”

Considering that, she buttoned on a plain white shirt. “I’m going to work here this morning, have Peabody meet me. Easier to go from here to the address Ava’s staying at. Do you know a Brigit Plowder?”

“Socialite, married to Peter Plowder-architect. Her family builds-bridges and tunnels most particularly. She’s a respected philanthropic figure. Puts her money where her cause is. Would this be where the widow’s staying?”

“Yeah.” Eve came out, sat down to put on her boots. Then narrowed her eyes at Roarke’s long look. “What? It’s a jacket. It’s just a damn jacket. I don’t care if it goes with the pants.”

“Pity then, as it goes very well. I was thinking how stylishly professional you look, which is probably a happy accident. But nonetheless.”

“Stylishly professional.” She sniffed, leaned over to steal a wedge of melon from his plate. “I’ve got to get my stylishly professional ass to work.”

“Eat.”

“I’ll get a bagel or whatever in my office. I need to hit those financials, since somebody interfered with police business last night.”

“I should be arrested.”

“Pal, that goes without saying.” She leaned over to kiss him. “Later. Oh, nearly forgot. Peabody’s going on Now tonight.”

“Is she? She must be…” He thought of Peabody. “Terrified.”

“Yeah. She’ll get over it.”

In her office, she tackled the financials. She remembered the bagel, then forgot it again. When she heard the clump of Peabody’s winter boots, she rubbed her already blurry eyes.

“You take over here.”

Peabody stopped, blinked. “Take over where?”

“These stinking financials. Give them another fifteen minutes, then we’ll take Ava.”

“Okay.” Peabody draped a bag over the back of Eve’s sleep chair.

“What’s that?”

“It’s an outfit. For tonight. In case I spill something on what I’m wearing, or in case what I’m wearing’s stupid. McNab liked it, but he wears Day-Glo half the time.” Peabody pulled off her outerwear to reveal a ruby-red suit with small silver buttons running down the front. “What do you think? Does it look right?”

“Why are you asking me?”

“I don’t know. I really don’t know.” Nerves pumping, Peabody brushed at her hair. “And I got stupid hair day going. They fix that, right? They fix that sort of thing. Nadine hired Trina to do hair and makeup so…” Peabody trailed off, pursed her lips. “You look all good and everything today. Seriously up.”

Eve shook her head. Gray pants, white shirt, navy jacket over her weapon harness. What was the deal? “If we’ve finished our fashion consultation, maybe you could spare a minute for the damn financials.”

“Okay. What do you think about the earrings?”

Eve gave the silver drops a passing glance. “About you wearing them, or about me ripping them off and stuffing them up your nose?”

“Okay,” Peabody said again, and hotfooted it to the desk.

“The computer hasn’t popped out anything from standard searches,” Eve told her. “One more shot, then I’m thinking to pass it on to Roarke. He popped something straight out of the widow’s in about ten minutes last night.”

“He’s got the knack.”

“He popped Charles out.”

Peabody’s head jerked up. “Our Charles?”

“In a manner of. Ava’s been a regular bimonthly client of our favorite LCs for a year and a half.”

“Shit. We’re going to have to interview him.”

“We went over there last night. He is, as expected, coy about the details. We need Ava to clear him for that. But he did tell me that she was a referral.”

“If she was fooling around with a pro it might go to motive.”

“It might. Hitch is she wasn’t hiding it, at least not well. There were straight payments out of her personal debit account. No cover.”

As she considered, Peabody played with one of the short dangles at her ear. “So, she doesn’t think to hide the payments. The husband finds out, they go around about it. Fight, divorce is threatened. And she kills him, sexual overtones.”

“She was out of the country.”

“Right. Hired hit?”

“Too elaborate.” Just too damn fussy, Eve thought. “Unless, it plays out like that, and she hired someone who tailors the hit to the client’s specifications.”

“Fantasy Hits R Us.”

“There’s a way to make money, people find it. I’m going to go over her financials and have Roarke comb them. But so far, nothing’s popped there either. No suspicious withdrawals, no payments that don’t jibe.” She paced. “Good-looking woman. She’s got style, power. The sort that could talk a lover, if he’s stupid enough, into doing her dirty work for her.”

“But then if she had a lover,” Peabody pointed out, “why is she paying Charles five thousand a bang, twice a month?”

“Exactly, so…” Eve turned back. “How do you know what Charles charges a bang?”

“Ah.” Peabody fussed with her hair, pulled at the silver buttons on her suit jacket. “Maybe, being curious, I looked up his rates when we were sort of dating.”

“Uh-huh. Well, I can agree that if a woman’s getting strange for free, she’s unlikely to pay ten grand a month for a couple thrills. See what you can find.”

Moving away again, Eve pulled out her ’link to schedule an appointment with Mira, and to put a hold on an interview room.

“Ladies.” Roarke spoke from the doorway of their adjoining offices. “Peabody, you look ravishing.”

“I do?” She nearly squealed it. “But in a screen-friendly, trustworthy, public servant kind of way?”

“Yes, indeed. The color’s wonderful on you.”

“Jesus,” Eve said under her breath, and earned a mild stare from her husband.

“Breakfast?” he said.

Peabody watched as Eve scowled, shrugged. Then Roarke lifted his brows with those dreamy eyes steady. Her lieutenant rolled hers, but stomped off to the kitchen.

“You guys don’t even have to talk.” Resting her chin on her fist, Peabody sighed. “You just know.”

“It does come in handy from time to time. How was your date night?”

“It was mag. Really. Mostly because we both agreed we like noisy, crowded clubs better than grown-up, sophisticated ones. But it’s good to try something new.”

“Stop socializing with my partner,” Eve called out from the kitchen.

“Financials,” Peabody mouthed.

“Ah, yes.” Casually, Roarke strolled over, gave a quick glance at the data on screen. He winked at Peabody and sent her pulse scrambling, then continued on to the kitchen where his wife was taking an annoyed bite out of a bagel.

“Breakfast,” she muttered at him.

“Such as it is. Why don’t I go over the financials? I can do it in considerably less time than you or Peabody, which frees you up to go out and browbeat suspects.”

She frowned, chewed. “You’d have to do it straight. No unregistered, no illegal hacking.”

“You underestimate the skill of an honest man.”

“Yeah, but I’m talking to you.” She grinned over another bite of bagel. “I could use the help, if you’ve got the time between schemes of universal financial domination.”

“I’ll work it in. Now.” He brushed a crumb away from the side of her mouth, kissed her. “Go protect and serve.”

“Good idea. Peabody,” she said as she headed out, “with me.”

“I haven’t really started on-”

“The civilian’s got it. Let’s go take a few kicks at the grieving widow.”

“That’s lots more fun.” Peabody jumped up, grabbed her garment bag. And because Eve was already out of earshot, turned back as Roarke came out of the kitchen. “Do you like the earrings?”

He stepped closer to give them a good study. “They’re charming.”

“But in a-”

“In a professional and intuitive police detective sort of way. You’ll be wonderful and look the same.”

“Thanks.” She grabbed her coat, scarf, hat. “I-”

“Peabody! Move your damn ass!”

“Gotta go,” Peabody finished on the heels of Eve’s shout. And fled.

With his fresh cup of coffee, Roarke sat behind Eve’s desk. He could spare twenty minutes now, he mused. “So, let’s see what we have here.”