In Death 08 - Conspiracy in Death

Dimatto?"
    "Not a great deal." Struggling for composure, Mira recapped her lip tube. "She's always gone her own way. She's very bright, very dedicated, and very independent."
    "Can I trust her?"
    Mira nearly said yes out of pure reflex, then pushed her personal feelings aside. "I would believe so, but as I said, I don't know her very well."
    "Okay. Ah, do you want me to... do anything here?"
    The sound Mira made was between a chuckle and a sigh. Eve sounded nearly terrified the answer would be yes. "No. I think I'll just sit here for a little while, in the quiet."
    "Then I better get back." Eve started out, then turned. "Mira, if it starts to turn toward him, will you be able to handle it?"
    "If it turns toward him, he wouldn't be the man I thought I knew. The man I once loved. Yes, I will handle it, Eve."
    But when Eve nodded and left her alone, Mira closed her eyes and let herself weep a little.

CHAPTER TEN
    Instincts, Eve decided the next morning, were one thing. Facts another. A family connection between Colin Cagney and her upcoming consultant was just a little too close for comfort. So, with her hands in her pockets and her back to the window where the thick fall of snow obscured the view, she ordered her computer to run data on Louise Dimatto.
    Dimatto, Louise Anne, ID# 3452-100-34FW. Born March 1, 2030, Westchester, New York, Marital status, single. No children. Parents Alicia Cagney Dimatto and Mark Robert Dimatto. No siblings. Current residence, 28 Houston, unit C, New York City. Current position, general practitioner of medicine, Canal Street Clinic. Held position for two years.
    Graduate of Harvard Medical School, all honors. Residency completed at Roosevelt Hospital....
    "Financial data," Eve ordered, and glanced over absently as Roarke walked in.
    Working.... Salary from Canal Street Clinic, thirty thousand annual...
    Eve snorted. "She didn't buy those rocks she was wearing on her ears with a pitiful thirty thousand a year. That's less than I make, for Christ's sake."
    Income from trust fund, stock dividends, and interest, approximately $268,000 annual...
    "That's more like it. So, with that kind of income, why isn't she living in some fancy digs uptown?"
    "A quarter million doesn't buy what it used to," Roarke said easily and moved over to glance at her monitor. "Who are you running, the young doctor?"
    "Yeah. She'll be here in a few minutes. I have to decide whether to kick her or bring her in." Eve frowned. "A trust fund baby with high connections at Drake, but she puts in miserable time at a free clinic where she treats street people for peanuts. Why?"
    Cocking his head, Roarke sat on the edge of her desk. "I know a certain cop who now has what some would call a substantial personal income and high connections at nearly every level of business in any area on or off planet, yet she continues to work the streets, often putting herself at personal risk. For peanuts." He paused a moment. "Why?"
    "The money stuff, that's your deal," Eve muttered.
    "No, darling, it's yours. And maybe this is hers. Maybe, like you, this is who she is."
    She considered a moment, shuffling his money and her part of it aside -- where she preferred it. "You liked her."
    "On brief first impression, yes. More to the point, you do."
    "Maybe I do." She paused a moment. "Yeah, I do, but I don't know what she'll do if the arrow points at her uncle." She rolled her shoulders once. "I guess we'll just have to find out. Computer, file and save all data and disengage."
    "I have the information you asked me for yesterday." Roarke slipped a disc out of his pocket, slid it into hers. "I don't know how helpful it's going to be. I didn't see any connection between your case and NewLife. And as for Westley Friend, he didn't appear to have much of an underbelly. He comes off as a man dedicated to his family and his work."
    "The more you know, the more you can cross off. I appreciate it."
    "Any time. Lieutenant." Roarke took her hands, slid his up to her wrists, and tugged her closer. It gratified him to feel her pulse trip just a little faster at the contact. "Do I assume you'll be at this most of the day?"
    "That's the plan. Aren't you going in to your office?"
    "No, I'll be working here today. It's Saturday."
    "Oh, right." The little trickle of guilt had her struggling not to squirm. "We didn't have, like plans for the weekend, did we?"
    "No." His lips curved, and taking advantage of her momentary distraction, he shifted his hands to her