In Death 22 - Memory in Death

kind of stake you just put in a bank somewhere. Especially sinceyou can put money on itshe planned to keep tapping you. Can’t stick around good old Texas, where people know you. You’re freaking rich now. Gotta enjoy it.”
    “What does that tell you regarding the investigation? If you find she’d made inquiries about a property,
    or travel, what does it give you besides busywork?”
    “Busywork’s underrated. Maybe she let something slip, to Bobby, to Zana, to someone else. Maybe
    we use Peabody’s favoritethere’s a hot young lover out there, someone she had by the short hairs,
    or someone who got greedy. Can circle back to revenge. One of her former charges is keeping tabs
    on her, or is being used by her, and gets wind she’s got a big deal going.”
    She nudged her plate aside. “I want to play this angle. You finished?”
    “Nearly. No dessert?”
    “I’m fine as is.”
    “They have gelato.” His grin was quick, brilliant. “Chocolate.”
    “Bastard.” She fought her inner war, her weakness. “You think we can get it to go?”
    * * *
    It was interesting, Eve decided, when you looked in a direction that didn’t seem relevant. The little
    pieces that shuffled down. Maybe not into the puzzle yet, but waiting for you to find the fit.
    “Her passport’s current.” She scooped up the decadent delight of rich chocolate. “Had one for twelve years. And she traveled. Funny nobody mentioned that. Spain, Italy, France. She liked Europe, but there’s Rio, and Belize, and Bimini. Exotic locales.”
    “Nothing off planet?” he asked.
    “Nothing she used this passport for. I’m betting she liked sticking to terra firma. Off planet takes a lot
    of time, and a lot of money. And while she traveled, she was in and outwith few exceptionsin a
    few days. Longest I find here’s ten days in Italy. Went in through Florence. And had another trip there, one day, the week before she came to New York.”
    “Maybe a weakness for Tuscany,” Roarke suggested.
    “Quick trips, though.” She drummed her fingers, ate more gelato. “Could be she made them on the q.t. Didn’t tell her son. I’ve got to go back, find out if she traveled alone or with a companion.”
    She studied the data. “Had a reason for going back to Italy right before she came here to make her
    score. Looking over there, you bet your ass. Thinking she might like to find herself a villa.”
    “It would take some time, but I could find out if she made inquiries about property with a realtor over there.”
    “She’d know something about the ins and out, wouldn’t she, with a son in the business.”
    She sat back, sighed. “So here’s one way. She’s looking to relocate, plop herself down to live the high
    life after she skins you.”
    “I object to the term. No one skins me.”
    “Yeah, but she doesn’t get that. Time to start enjoying her hard-earned nest egg. Deck herself out in all those glitters she’s been paying insurance premiums for. Time to kick up her heels. Got herself in tune
    for it. She’s tapped out a couple of her income sources, but they’re finite anyway. She hits the jackpot, and she can move on. Retire.”
    “What does she tell her family?”
    Think like her, Eve ordered herself. It wasn’t so hard to do. “Her son’s replaced her with a wife. Ungrateful bastard. Doesn’t have to tell him a damn thing. If she intended to tell him, you can bet she’s got something worked out: She won the lottery, got some inheritance, something out of the blue. But
    she doesn’t need Bobby anymore because she’s got someone on her string, someone who can do the grunt work when she needs it. They should be with her in New York, just in case.”
    She rolled her shoulders. “Or she’s going to shake her minion off, hire somebody fresh when she relocates. Who do you know in that area of Italy who handles real estate, could give us a hand with
    this?”
    “One or two people. However, it’s after one in the morning there.”
    “Oh, right.” She scowled at the clock. “I hate the whole time difference crap. It’s irritating. Okay, that waits until the morning.”
    “I hate to remind you, tomorrow’s Christmas Eve. We’re unlikely to find offices open, particularly in Europe where they believe in taking holidays. I can pull strings, but unless this is urgent, I hate to push this into someone’s holiday.”
    “See, see”she waved her spoon”Christmas is bogging me down. It can wait, it can wait,” she repeated.