In Death 08 - Conspiracy in Death

social connection," Louise put in, favoring Roarke with a quick smile. "Those prominent in medicine making their entrance, bringing their spouses or lovers, mingling with each other, and various pillars of the community such as Roarke."
    Eve snorted. "Some pillar."
    "I think Louise understands that anyone over a certain financial position automatically becomes a pillar."
    "And his wife attains the same status."
    "Cops make lousy pillars." Eve shifted her gaze from the display of the hot look for upcoming spring and studied Louise. "So we've established why Roarke and I are here, but what about you? How does a doctor doing time at a free clinic rate a ticket to a major event for Drake?"
    "By being the niece of the chief of staff." Louise managed to reach through bodies and snag a flute of champagne. She used it to toast.
    "You're Cagney's niece?"
    "That's right."
    Friends, colleagues, relatives, Eve thought. An incestuous little group -- and such groups tended to band together like mud balls to block outsiders. "And what are you doing working in an armpit instead of uptown?"
    "Because, Lieutenant, I do what I want. I'll see you in the morning." She nodded to Roarke, then slipped through the crowd.
    Eve turned to her husband. "I've just taken on a consultant who's the niece of one of my suspects."
    "Will you keep her?"
    "For the time being," Eve murmured. "We'll see how it shakes out."
    After the last long-legged model had glided down the silver ramp and the music had subdued to a shimmer to lure couples onto the glossy tiles of the dance floor, Eve tried to identify what form of nutrition was disguised in the arty structure of shape and color on her dinner plate.
    Beside her, too excited to eat, Mavis bounced on her seat. "Leonardo's designs were the aces, weren't they? None of the others were in the same orbit. Roarke, you've got to buy that backless-to-the-butt red number for Dallas."
    "That color wouldn't suit her." Leonardo, his huge hand covering both of Mavis's, looked down at her. His gold-toned eyes shone with love and relief. He was built like a redwood and had the heart, and often the nerves, of a six-year-old approaching the first day of school.
    He had indeed, as Mavis had so elegantly put it, woofed before the show.
    "Now the green satin..." He smiled shyly over at Roarke. "I admit I had her in mind when I designed it. The color and cut are perfect for her."
    "Then she'll have to have it. Won't you, Eve?"
    Preoccupied with finding out if there was anything resembling meat or one of its substitutes on her plate, she merely grunted. "Is this chicken buried in here or what?"
    "It's Cuisine Artiste," Roarke told her, and offered her a roll the size of a credit chip. "Where aesthetics often take priority over taste." Leaning over, he kissed her. "We'll get a pizza on the way home."
    "Good idea. I should cruise around, see if I can find Mira, and if I can stir anything else up."
    "I'll cruise with you." Roarke rose, pulled out her chair.
    "Fine. It was a great show, Leonardo. I especially liked that green thing."
    He beamed at her, then tugged her down to kiss her cheek. When she walked away, Eve heard Mavis giggle and tell Leonardo she needed a tornado to celebrate.
    Tables with snowy cloths and silver candles were scattered throughout the ballroom. Six enormous chandeliers dripped out of the lofty ceiling to sprinkle muted and silver light. The wait staff moved around and through, pouring wine, removing dishes with an elegant choreography.
    Generous drinks had loosened a few tongues, Eve observed. The level of sound was higher now, and the laughter louder.
    Table hopping was a popular sport, and Eve noted as they wandered that most of the diners admired their food but didn't eat it.
    "What was this thing, five, ten thousand a plate?" she asked Roarke.
    "A bit more, actually."
    "What a scam. There's Mira, heading out. Must be a pit stop because her husband's not with her. I'll go after her." She cocked her head at Roarke. "Why don't you play the crowd for me since they're loosening up some?"
    "Love to. Then I want one dance, darling Eve, and Pepperoni on my pizza."
    She grinned and didn't worry about all the eyes watching when he kissed her. "I could go for both of those. I won't be long."
    She headed directly to the bank of doors Mira had used, turned through the sumptuous foyer, and searched out the women's lounge.
    Chandeliers twinkled light in the dressing area where a attendant droid in snappy black and