In Death 25 - Creation in Death

it. “I’m just going to—”
    She stopped, frowned at the knock on the bedroom door. “Who else in their right mind would be up at this hour?”
    “Let’s find out.” Roarke walked to the door, and opened it to Mavis and Belle.
    “I saw the light under the door.”
    “Is something wrong with the baby?” Roarke asked. “Is she sick?”
    “Bella? No, she’s trip T’s—Totally Tip-Top. Just needed her morning change and snuggle. But I peeked out, saw the light. Okay if we come in a minute?”
    “Of course. I was just about to deal with breakfast. Would you like something?”
    “No, just too early for me to fuel up. Well, maybe some juice. Papaya maybe?”
    “Have a seat.”
    “Everything okay?” Eve asked her.
    “Yeah, well, you know. When Belle sent out the morning call, I just didn’t want to cuddle in. Restless.”
    Mavis stood, in red-and-white–striped pajamas Summerset must have unearthed from somewhere. They were too big for her, and way too conservative.
    They made her look, to Eve’s eyes, tiny and fragile.
    “Everything’s fine, going to be fine. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”
    “I guess I just wanted to see if you were okay, and if there was something I could do.”
    “It’s under control.” Since Mavis was standing, swaying gently side to side in a way that was making Eve vaguely seasick, Eve gestured to a chair in the sitting area. “Sit down.”
    “I was thinking Trina and I could look over the appointment books, and maybe we could try to find the hair enhancement.” Mavis shrugged. “And Trina was telling me she thinks the guy was using one of a couple of product lines—face and body creams and lotions. I could maybe track down where they’re available, and—I don’t know. Maybe it would help.”
    “Maybe it would.”
    Roarke set down a tall glass of juice, some fresh fruit, and a basket of muffins. Mavis glanced at them, then up at Roarke. “If I wasn’t gone squared over my huggie bear, I’d fight Dallas for you.”
    “I’d squash you like a bug,” Eve told her.
    “Yeah, but you’d limp awhile after. Would it be all right if we stayed here—Belle and me—until…Leonardo’s going to be back this afternoon. I thought—”
    “You can stay as long as you like,” Roarke told her as he brought over two plates from the AutoChef.
    “Thanks. He’s just worried. He started thinking what if Belle and I had been with Trina, and this guy had made a move on her. I know it’s fetched, but you have a kid and you start winding through the crazed meadow.”
    “All meadows are crazed,” Eve commented. “You and Belle relax and hang.”
    On cue, Belle began to fuss and whimper. Mavis shifted, smoothly unbuttoning the pajama top. “I thought maybe if Trina was finished before—”
    “Sure, sure.” Instinctively Eve averted her eyes, grabbed her coffee. “I’ll have her brought back here when she’s done. No problem.”
    “Mag. Big relief. So—”
    “Oh, well then.” Roarke pushed to his feet as Mavis’s breast popped out and Belle’s eager mouth popped on. “I’ll just…” Go anywhere else.
    His reaction had Mavis’s face clearing, and her laughter bubbling. “She wants her breakfast, too. Mostly everyone’s seen my boobies before.”
    “And, as I believe I’ve said, they’re absolutely charming. I wonder if I shouldn’t—”
    “No, sit.” Giggling now, Mavis picked up the juice, rose, easily balancing the glass and the baby at her breast. “You’ll get used to it before long, but right now, we’ll go on back. Usually we both want a little nap after breakfast. If I find anything on the hair enhancement, the products, I’ll tag you.”
    “Do that.”
    When they were alone again, Roarke stared down at his plate. “Why do you suppose I chose this morning to want my eggs sunny-side up?”
    “They do look like a pair of nice, shiny yellow breasts.” Grinning, Eve plucked up a piece of bacon. “And Mavis has been known to paint hers yellow on occasion.”
    “Every time she feeds the baby, I feel so…rude.”
    “I thought it was freaked.”
    “A bit of that, but more intrusive. It seems so intimate.”
    “I’d say we’re both going to have to get over it. We’ve got to get moving. Eat your boobies.”
     
    T hey separated at Central, Eve leading Trina through to where Yancy would work on the composite.
    “You know, if cops put more thought and creativity into fashion and grooming, it might improve public