In Death 08 - Conspiracy in Death

financial scope. I couldn't find any sudden influx of income to indicate he'd been paid off."
    "You're banking that he's straight."
    "I've got to hope he is and can give me a handle. I don't have any authority," she added. "He doesn't have to talk to me. I can't check in with the local cops, I can't use any cop-to-cop pressure."
    "Try charm," Roarke suggested.
    "You're the one with the charm."
    "True. Try anyway."
    "How's this?" She smiled winningly.
    "You're scaring me again."
    "Smart-ass," she muttered and when she rang the bell and heard the echo of three cheery chimes, rolled her eyes. "Man, I would self-terminate before I lived in a place like this. I bet all their furniture matches, and they've got cute little cows or something sitting around the kitchen."
    "Kittens. Fifty says it's kittens."
    "Bet. Cows are sillier. It's going to be cows." She tried the smile, slightly less winning, when the door opened. A pretty woman leading with her hugely pregnant belly answered.
    "Hello. Can I help you?"
    "I hope so. We'd like to speak with Wilson McRae."
    "Oh, he's down in his workshop. Can I tell him what this is about?"
    "We've come from New York." Now that she was here, facing big, curious brown eyes, Eve wasn't sure how to begin. "It's in reference to one of your husband's cases, before he retired from the force."
    "Oh." Her dark eyes clouded. "You're cops? Come in, I'm sorry. Will so rarely sees any of his associates anymore. I think he misses them terribly. If you don't mind waiting in the living room? I'll go down and get him."
    "She didn't ask to see ID." Eve shook her head as she wandered the living room. "A cop's wife, and she lets strangers into the house. What's wrong with people?"
    "They should be shot for being so trusting."
    She sent him a slanted look. "This from the guy with enough security to keep alien invaders out of his house."
    "You're awfully hung up on aliens today."
    "It's this place." Restless, she moved her shoulders. "Didn't I tell you? Everything matches." She poked a finger into the tidy cushion of the blue and white sofa that matched the blue and white chair that matched the white curtains and blue rug.
    "I imagine it's a comfort to some people." He cocked his head as he studied her. She needed a quick round with her hairdresser, and though she was in desperate need of new boots, he knew she wouldn't even consider it. She looked long, lean, edgy, and just a little dangerous pacing around the solid suburban room. "You, on the other hand, would go mad here."
    She jingled the loose credits in her pockets. "Oh yeah. What about you?"
    "I'd make a break for it in about two hours." He reached up to skim his finger down her chin. "But I'd take you with me, darling."
    She grinned at him. "I guess that means we match. That doesn't bother me."
    She turned when she heard voices. She didn't have to see Wilson McRae to understand he wasn't terribly pleased to have company. He came in just ahead of his now frazzled looking wife with his mouth set in a dissatisfied frown, his eyes wary.
    All cop, Eve decided on the spot. He was sizing them up, scanning for threat or weapon and braced to defend.
    She judged him at just under six feet, a well-built one eighty. His light brown hair was cut ruthlessly short over a square, sturdy face. Shades darker than his hair, his eyes stayed cool as they skimmed from her to Roarke and back.
    "My wife didn't get your names."
    "Eve Dallas." She didn't offer her hand. "This is Roarke."
    "Roarke?" It piped out of the woman just before color flooded her face. "I thought I recognized you. I've seen you on-screen dozens of times. Oh, please, sit down."
    "Karen." With one quiet word he had her subsiding, in obvious distress and puzzlement. "You a cop?" he asked Roarke.
    "No, indeed not." He laid a hand on Eve's shoulder. "She's the cop."
    "Out of New York," Eve continued. "I need some of your time. A case I've been working on crosses one you had before you retired."
    "That's the operative word." She caught resentment mixed in the wariness in his tone. "I'm retired."
    "Yeah." She kept her eyes steady and level on him. "Just recently, someone's been wanting to see me retire. One way or the other. Could be a... medical thing."
    His eyes flickered, his mouth tightened. Before he could speak, Roarke stepped forward and aimed a charming smile at Karen. "Ms. McRae, I wonder if I could trouble you for some coffee? My wife and I drove straight in from the airport."
    "Oh, of course. I'm so