In Death 05 - Ceremony in Death

Jamie," she said in a silky voice. "He still thinks name-calling deserves a reaction. My grandfather spoke of you, Lieutenant Dallas."
    "I'm flattered."
    "Your husband isn't with you tonight?"
    Eve arched a brow. Not just grief, she deduced, but nerves. It was easy enough to recognize. Signals as well, but they weren't clear. The girl was after something, she mused. But what?
    "No, he's not." She shifted her gaze back to Sally. "He sends his sympathies, Mrs. Wojinski. He's off planet."
    "It must take a great deal of concentration and energy," Alice interrupted, "to maintain a relationship with a man like Roarke while pursuing a demanding, difficult, even dangerous career. My grandfather used to say that once you had a grip on an investigation, you never let go. Would you say that's accurate, Lieutenant?"
    "If you let go, you lose. I don't like to lose." She held Alice's odd gaze for a moment, then on impulse crouched down and whispered to Pete. "When I was a rookie, I saw your grandfather zap a guy at ten yards. He was the best." She was rewarded with a quick grin before she straightened. "He won't be forgotten, Mrs. Wojinski," she said, offering her hand. "And he mattered very much to all of us."
    She started to step back, but Alice laid a hand on her arm, leaned close. The hand, Eve noted, trembled slightly. "It was interesting meeting you, Lieutenant. Thank you for coming."
    Eve inclined her head and slipped back into the crowd. Casually, she reached a hand into the pocket of her jacket and fingered the thin slip of paper Alice had pushed inside.
    It took her another thirty minutes to get away. She waited until she was outside and in her vehicle before she took the note out and read it.
    Meet me tomorrow, midnight. Aquarian Club. TELL NO ONE. Your life is now at risk.
    In lieu of a signature, there was a symbol, a dark line running in an expanding circle to form a sort of maze. Nearly as intrigued as she was annoyed, Eve stuffed the note back in her pocket and started home.
    Because she was a cop, she saw the figure draped in black, hardly more than a shadow in the shadows. And because she was a cop, she knew he was watching her.
    Whenever Roarke was away, Eve preferred to pretend the house was empty. Both she and Summerset, who served as Roarke's chief of staff, did their best to ignore the other's presence. The house was huge, a labyrinth of rooms, which made it a simple matter to avoid one another.
    She stepped into the wide foyer, tossed her scarred leather jacket over the carved newel post because she knew it would make Summerset grind his teeth. He detested having anything mar the elegance of the house. Particularly her.
    She took the stairs, but rather than go to the master bedroom, she veered off to her office suite.
    If Roarke had to spend another night off planet as expected, she preferred to spend hers in her relaxation chair rather than their bed.
    She often dreamed badly when she dreamed alone.
    Between the late paperwork and the viewing, she hadn't had time for a meal. Eve ordered up a sandwich -- real Virginia ham on rye -- and coffee that jumped with genuine caffeine. When the AutoChef delivered, she inhaled the scents slowly, greedily. She took the first bite with her eyes closed to better enjoy the miracle.
    There were definite advantages to being married to a man who could afford real meat instead of its by-products and simulations.
    To satisfy her curiosity, she went to her desk and engaged her computer. She swallowed ham, chased it with coffee. "All available data on subject Alice, surname unknown. Mother Brenda, nee Wojinski, maternal grandparents Frank and Sally Wojinski."
    Working...
    Eve drummed her fingers, took out the note and reread it while she polished off the quick meal.
    Subject Alice Lingstrom. DOB June 10, 2040. First child and only daughter of Jan Lingstrom and Brenda Wojinski, divorced. Residence, 486 West Eighth Street, Apartment 48, New York City. Sibling, James Lingstrom, DOB March 22, 2042. Education, high school graduate, valedictorian. Two semesters of college: Harvard. Major, anthropology. Minor, mythology. Third semester deferred. Currently employed as clerk, Spirit Quest, 228 West Tenth Street, New York City. Marital status, single.
    Eve ran her tongue around her teeth. "Criminal record?"
    No criminal record.
    "Sounds fairly normal," Eve murmured. "Data on Spirit Quest."
    Spirit Quest. Wiccan shop and consultation center, owned by Isis Paige and Charles Forte. Three