In Death 22 - Memory in Death

the tub, and I got a prelim sweeper’s report that tells me there was some blood in the bathroom sink, in the drain. So she washed up after she got tuned.”
    Missing towels, she remembered, and made another note of it.
    “And she turns her back on her killer. Blow came from behind. She’s not afraid.”
    “Someone she knows and mistakenlyas it turns outtrusts.”
    “You don’t trust somebody who smashes your face the day before.” Love them, maybe. She knew there was a kind of love that ran to that. But trust was different. “Morris thinks the same weapon was used throughout, but I’m thinking two different hands on it, two different times. You’ve got the run from your building security.”
    “A copy, yes. Feeney has the original.”
    “I want to see it.”
    He took a disc from his pocket. “Thought you might.”
    She plugged it in, ordered the review on the wall screen.
    “I’ve had the whole business put on here,” he said as Eve watched Trudy enter Roarke’s Midtown building. She crossed the acres of marble, passed animated screens, rivers of flowers, sparkling little pools, and moved straight to the information desk that handled the offices.
    That suit, she noted, had been in the closet of the hotel room. Neatly hung. The shoes had been tucked
    in there, too. She hadn’t been wearing that outfit when she was beaten.
    “Done her research,” Eve mused. “No fumbling around, no looking around to get her bearings.”
    “She presses at information, as you see. ‘No, I’ve no appointment, but he’ll want to see me,’ and so on. Look confident, look friendly, and as though you belong. She’s very good.”
    “She got upstairs, anyway.”
    “They called through, got to Caro, who passed the request on to me. I had them make her wait a bit.
    I’m good as well. She doesn’t care for it, as you can see by the way her face tightens up, but she has
    a seat in one of the lobby waiting areas. Unless you want to watch her twiddle her thumbs for the next
    bit of time, you can move forward.”
    Eve did, then slowed it down when a young woman approached Trudy.
    “Caro, who knows the ropes, sent one of the assistants down to escort her up on one of the public elevators. Takes her round about, up to my level, through outer areas, down the skyway. A goodly
    hike, and when she arrives, well, she can wait a bit more. I’m a busy man, aren’t I?”
    “She’s impressed,” Eve commented. “Who wouldn’t be? All that space, the glass, the art, the people
    at your beck and call. Good job.”
    “Here you see Caro coming to get her at last, to walk her back. Then Caro goes out, shuts the doors,
    and we have our little chat.”
    Eve ran the disc forward, marked the time elapsed at twelve minutes before Trudy came hurrying out.
    And there was fear, Eve noted, a hint of wildness in the eyes, a jerkiness to the walk that was nearly
    a trot.
    “She was a bit annoyed,” Roarke said with a wide, wide grin.
    Eve said nothing, simply watched as Trudy was escorted down, and quickly made her way out of the building.
    “Unharmed, as you see, and where she went from there, I couldn’t say.”
    “She wasn’t afraid of her killer.” Eve’s gaze met his. “But she was afraid of you.”
    He held up his hands, palms out. “Never laid a hand on her.”
    “You don’t have to,” Eve replied. “But you’re clear. You had a record going inside your office. You would have.”
    He lifted a shoulder. “And your point?”
    “You didn’t offer that to Feeney, to the investigation.”
    “It’s private.”
    She took a careful breath. “And if it comes to a squeeze?”
    “Then I’ll give it to you, and you can decide if it’s needed. I said nothing to her that I’m ashamed of,
    but it’s your privacy. It’s ours, and we’re bloody well entitled to it.”
    “If it has weight in the investigation”
    “It doesn’t. Damn it, Eve, take my word and let it go. Do you think I had her done, for Christ’s sake?”
    “No. But I know you could have. I know a part of you could want that.”
    “You’re wrong.” He braced his hands on the desk, leaned forward until their eyes were level. And his were cold as arctic ice. “If I’d wanted her done, I’d have given myself the pleasure of seeing to it personally. That’s who you married, and I’ve never pretended otherwise. It’s for you to deal with.”
    He straightened, turned, started for the door.
    “Roarke.”
    When he glanced back, she had her fingers