In Death 23 - Born in Death

that train, he may have been protecting himself, his own interests, or someone close to him. He was very careful.”
    “But didn’t know enough about forensics to know that we’d be able to get his DNA off the scrapes on Byson’s knuckles.”
    “Perhaps not, but I’d judge him as educated, organized, and thorough. I’d be very surprised if he hasn’t destroyed or disposed of anything he took from the scenes, anything he used to gain entry. I expect if you interview him during the course of your investigation, he’ll be cooperative. If he knew the victims, he’ll attend their memorial with every sign of sorrow for their loss. He’ll have thought all of that through as well.”
    “As well as an alibi for the time in question.”
    “I’d be surprised if he didn’t have one. Some in these circumstances might deliberately avoid having an alibi to add to the thrill and excitement during the investigation. The game of it. I don’t think that’s your type here. He’d have dotted all his i’s beforehand.”
    Eve nodded. “Okay. Thanks.”
    “I’m looking forward to tomorrow,” Mira said as Eve rose.
    “What’s—oh. Oh, yeah.”
    With a laugh, Mira swiveled in her chair. “I’ve never known any sort of an event at your home to be less than entertaining. Mavis must be thrilled.”
    “I guess. Truth? I’m kind of ducking her. We had to do the class thing—the coach class? Which was a nightmare beyond the speaking of it. I’m afraid she’s going to tag me and do, like, a quiz to make sure I was paying attention!”
    “And were you?”
    “You couldn’t look away. It was like watching a horror movie. Freaky,” she muttered, and had to struggle not to shudder. “Tomorrow, I’m going to be surrounded by those women who’re brewing babies. What if one of them decides to pop?”
    “Unlikely, but you will have a couple of doctors on hand. I’ll be there, so will Louise.”
    “Right.” The idea relieved her. “I forgot. Okay, that’s a load off. Maybe you could be sure to hang around until all of them leave. Just in case.”
    “Eleven years and counting on the force, and you’ve never delivered a baby?”
    “That’s right, and I’m going to keep that record intact.”
     
    E ve’s first thought when she entered Sasha Zinka’s office was that it rivaled Roarke’s for space, for plush, for taste. The clean lines and surprising slashes of bold color against the muted made it female without being fussy.
    She thought the same of Sasha herself.
    The woman could have easily passed for a decade younger than her age on her official records. Honeycomb hair was swooped back and up from a heart-shaped face dominated by clear blue eyes. She wore a suit of rusty red as restrained and subtle as the jewelry she’d matched to it.
    She crossed the thick silver carpet in an easy glide in skinny heels as she held out a hand.
    “Lieutenant Dallas. We met in passing at some gala or other last spring.”
    “I remember.”
    “Lousy way to meet again. You’re Detective Peabody. We spoke by ’link.”
    Peabody accepted the hand held out to her. “Thanks for seeing us.”
    “Please, have a seat. Tell me what I can do. You wanted to see Lola as well. She’s on her way. Would you like anything while we wait for her?”
    “We’re fine, thanks.” Eve sat in a chair of amber leather so buttery she was surprised her butt didn’t just melt through it. “You knew Natalie Copperfield?”
    “A little. Knew of her more.” She took a seat of her own. “It’s terrible, what happened to her and the young man. But I’m not sure where Lola and I come into it.”
    “You’ve stated that you and Ms. Warfield had dinner with Randall Sloan on the night of the murders.”
    “That’s right. Business primarily, but Lola and I enjoy Ran’s company. We were out until after two in the morning, as I told the detective when she contacted me. You don’t seriously consider Ran—”
    She broke off as the door opened. Lola Warfield rushed in looking flushed and scattered with her wild brunette curls flying. Her eyes, nearly the same color as the chair where Eve sat, were full of laughing apology.
    “Sorry, sorry. I got hung up. Dallas, right? I took my life in my hands and snatched your gorgeous husband for a dance at the Marquis event last spring. If he were mine I’d beat any woman who looked at him with a stick, even if she plays for the other team.”
    “Then the city’d be hip-deep in bodies.”
    “That’d