In Death 01 - Naked in Death

connecting a rabidly right-wing senator to a couple of New York prostitutes.
    Maybe he was protecting his family, she mused. Or maybe he was protecting Simpson, a political ally.
    That was crap, Eve decided. He might work on Simpson's behalf if the chief was involved in the Starr and Castle homicides. But a man didn't protect the killer of his grandchild.
    Too bad she wasn't looking for two men, Eve mused. Regardless, she was going to do some pecking away at Simpson's underpinnings.
    Objectively, she warned herself. And it wouldn't do to forget that there was a strong possibility that DeBlass didn't know one of his favorite political cronies had been blackmailed by his only granddaughter.
    She'd have to find out.
    But for now, she had another hunch to follow. She located Charles Monroe's number and put through a call.
    His voice was smeared with sleep, his eyes heavy. "You spend all your time in bed, Charles?"
    "All I can, Lieutenant Sugar." He rubbed a hand over his face and grinned at her. "That's how I think of you."
    "Well, don't. Couple of questions."
    "Ah, can't you come on over and ask in person? I'm warm and naked and all alone."
    "Pal, don't you know there's a law against soliciting a police officer?"
    "I'm talking freebie here. I told you -- we'd keep it strictly personal."
    "We're keeping it strictly impersonal. You had an associate. Georgie Castle. Did you know her?"
    The seductive smile faded from his face. "Yeah, actually, I did. Not well, but I met her at a party about a year ago. She was new in the business. Fun, attractive. Game, you know. We hit it off."
    "In what way?"
    "In a friendly way. We had a drink now and again. Once when Sharon had an overbooking, I had her send a couple of clients Georgie's way."
    "They knew each other." Eva pounced on it. "Sharon and Georgie?"
    "I don't think so. As far as I remember, Sharon contacted Georgie, asked her if she was interested in a couple of fresh tricks. Georgie gave it the green light, and that was that. Oh, yeah, Sharon said something about Georgie sending her a dozen roses. Real ones, like a thank-you gift. Sharon got a real kick out of the old-fashioned etiquette."
    "Just an old-fashioned girl," Eve said under her breath.
    "When I heard Georgie was dead, it hit hard. I gotta tell you. With Sharon it was a jolt, but not that much of a surprise. She lived on the edge. But Georgie, she was centered, you know?"
    "I may need to follow up on this, Charles. Stay available."
    "For you -- "
    "Knock it off," she ordered, before he could get cute. "What do you know about Sharon's diaries?"
    "She never let me read one," he said easily. "I used to tease her about them. Seems to me she said she'd kept them since she was a kid. You got one? Hey, am I in it?"
    "Where'd she keep them?"
    "In her apartment, I guess. Where else?"
    That was the question, Eve mused. "If you think of anything else about Georgie or about the diaries, contact me."
    "Day or night, Lieutenant Sugar. Count on me."
    "Right." But she was laughing when she broke transmission.
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    The sun was just setting when she arrived at Roarke's. She didn't consider herself off duty. The favor she was going to ask had been simmering in her mind all day. She'd decided on it, rejected it, and generally vacillated until she'd disgusted herself.
    In the end, she'd left the station for the first time in months right on the dot of the end of her shift. With what limited progress she'd made, she'd hardly needed to be there at all.
    Feeney had hit nothing but a dead end in his search for a second lock box. He had, with obvious reluctance, given her the list of cops she'd requested. Eve intended to run a make on each of them -- on her own time and in her own way.
    With some regret, she realized she was going to use Roarke.
    Summerset opened the door with his usual disdain. "You're earlier than expected, lieutenant."
    "If he isn't in, I can wait."
    "He's in the library."
    "Which is where, exactly?"
    Summerset permitted himself the tiniest huff. If Roarke hadn't ordered him to show the woman in immediately he would have shuffled her off to some small, poorly lit room. "This way, please."
    "What exactly is it about me that rubs you wrong, Summerset?"
    With his back poker straight, he led her up a flight and down the wide corridor. "I have no idea what you mean, lieutenant. The library," he announced in reverent terms, and opened the door for