In Death 26 - Strangers in Death

He slid it under her shirt again. “It was you, Lieutenant, who fell into my guile, after I gave you a bloody good shove.”
    “I guess we both took a fall.” She glanced out the window as the limo drew to a curb behind other limos—the somber glamour of death. “Too bad Anders didn’t have a better landing with his.”
     
    P hotographs of Anders stood throughout the elegant double parlor. He swung a golf club or a bat, hiked a football or returned a tennis volley among the meadow of flowers on display. Sunflowers, with their deep velvet brown eyes, dominated.
    “His favorite,” Ben told them. “Uncle Tommy used to say if he ever retired he’d buy a little farm somewhere and grow nothing but sunflowers.”
    “Did he have plans for that?” Eve asked. “For retiring?”
    “Not really. But he did make some noises about finding a place outside the city, taking long weekends. As long as there was a golf course handy. He was sort of toying with the idea of building a farmhouse by the sports camp upstate. A real country home, where he and Ava would eventually retire. He’d have his sunflowers, get out of the city a little more until then, and have full use of the camp facilities. Said he’d have to put in a spa for Ava, to get her to go along with it.”
    He smiled with grief raw in his eyes. “Anyway, he loved sunflowers. He was loved, too. We’re having simultaneous memorials, all over the world. Right now, all over the world people are…Sorry, excuse me a minute.”
    He turned toward the door. Eve wondered if he’d make it out before breaking down. And she saw Leopold cross the room quickly, and laying a hand on Ben’s shoulder, walk out with him.
    Love, Eve thought, in sorrow and selflessness.
    Then she turned to study the widow who sat pale of cheek, damp of eye in a blue velvet chair surrounded by flowers and people eager to console her. Once again, her hair was coiled at the back of her neck to show off fine bones, sharply defined features. Her widow’s weeds were unrelieved black, perfectly cut to showcase her statuesque build. She wore diamonds, exquisitely, at her ears, her wrists.
    “Careful,” Roarke murmured, “the way you’re aimed at her, the hair on the back of her neck will stand up in a minute.”
    Not such a bad idea, Eve thought. “Let’s go offer our condolences.”
    Tommy had drawn a crowd, Eve thought as she moved through it. That would please the widow, that good PR the media would run with. As she approached, Ava lifted her gaze, glimmering with suppressed tears, and bracing a hand on the arm of her chair as if she needed the support, rose.
    “Lieutenant. How kind of you to come. And Roarke. Tommy would be so pleased you took this time.”
    “He was a good man.” Roarke took Ava’s offered hand. “He’ll be missed.”
    “Yes, he was, and he will be. Have you…have you met my friend, my dear friend Brigit Plowder?”
    “I believe we have. It’s nice to meet you again, Mrs. Plowder, even under such difficult circumstances.”
    “Sasha will be devastated you remembered me and not her.” Brigit smiled at Roarke, a warm hostess to a guest. “Would you sign the mourner’s book? It’s an old-fashioned custom we thought Tommy would appreciate.” She gestured to the narrow podium beside her, and the gilt-edged white book open on it.
    “Of course.” Roarke took up the gold pen to sign.
    “You should have some wine.” As if confused or mildly ill, Ava touched her fingers to her temple. “We’re serving wine. Tommy so enjoyed a party. He wouldn’t want all these tears. You should have some wine.”
    “I’m on duty.” And for a moment, for just an instant, Eve stared into Ava’s eyes and let her see. I know you. I know what you are.
    In Ava’s, behind that sheen of tears, flashed surprise. And for only a moment, for just an instant, heat flared with it. Then she swayed against her friend. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I feel…”
    “Sit now.” Brigit eased Ava into the chair, stroked her cheek. “Sit back, Ava. You’re taking on too much.”
    “How can it ever be enough? How can I…Where’s Ben? Where’s Ben?” A single tear spilled out of each brilliant eye. “I need Ben.”
    “I’ll fetch him for you.” Roarke glanced at Eve, then made his way through the crowd of mourners.
    “He’ll be right along,” Brigit soothed. “Ben will be right along. We’ll take you upstairs, sweetheart. You need some quiet. It’s too warm in here, too