In Death 28 - Promises in Death

on the arm of Roarke’s chair. “Anyway, I left you a message about being late. I remembered to do that. I get credit, too.”
    “So noted.” Roarke rubbed a hand on her thigh. “Progress?”
    “Not much. It’s hard enough when it’s another cop. But having to tell Morris, seeing his face . . .”
    “Morris?”
    “They had a thing, Morris and Coltraine—the vic. A serious thing.”
    “Oh. No.” Mavis clutched Belle tighter. “This was Ammy? The woman he’s been seeing? We never turned the screen on today, never heard. Roarke just told us you’d caught a case, a cop killer. We didn’t know it was . . . Oh, Leonardo.”
    He put his arm around her, drew both his girls closer. “This is . . . horrible. We ran into them at a club one night, sat down with them. You could see how much they . . . It was there between them,” Leonardo said with sorrow in his gilted eyes. “I’m so sorry, so sorry. Is there anything we can do for him?”
    “I honestly don’t know.”
    “We only met her that one time.” A tear slid down Mavis’s cheek before she pressed it to the top of Belle’s head. “She seemed so up, and they were so into each other. Total vibe, total sparkage. Remember, honey-pot, how I said after they were just gone squared over each other.”
    “I remember.”
    “It’s good it’s you.” Mavis firmed her chin, patted Belle’s back. “You’ll find the bastard who did it. Morris knows that. We’re going to leave so you can do the cop stuff. If there’s anything—you know, stuff I know how to do—you just tag me. I’m there.”
    They began to transfer Belle into her carrier as Summerset walked in with a tray. “You’re leaving.”
    “Bellissimo needs to go night-night.” Mavis rose on her rainbow tip-toes to kiss Summerset’s cheek. “We’ll be back—us girls—for the big bash. A bridal shower and all that girl stuff’s just what we all need. And you guys.” She elbowed her husband. “Zipping off to Vegas for the man party.”
    “Vegas?” Eve blinked. “Huh?”
    “My duties as best man,” Roarke told her. “I’m looking forward to it.”
    When she was alone with Roarke, the wine, and an elegantly arranged plate of food, she frowned. “Why do you have to go all the way to Las Vegas—shit, you do mean Las Vegas, right? You’re not going off planet to Vegas II.”
    “No, we’re going to the original.”
    “But, what if I need help with all those women? I don’t even know what they’re planning because Peabody and Nadine are doing all that, so what if—”
    “You could easily find out the plans instead of pretending it won’t actually happen. And you’ll be just fine. They’re your friends.” He tapped her chin with a fingertip. “Eat your dinner before it gets cold.”
    “I’m going to take it up, eat at my desk.”
    “Fine. Then you can tell me what happened to Morris’s lady, and what I can do to help you find her killer. He’s my friend, too,” Roarke added.
    “Yeah, yeah, I know.” She gave in for a moment, moved into him, dropped her forehead on his shoulder. “God. Oh, God, it was horrible. The hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. It made me sick inside, just sick to knock on his door. To know I was about to break a friend in two. I have to find the answers for him. It’s more than the job.”
    “It is, yes.” He held her close and tight, and as Mavis had with Belle, rested his cheek on her head. Battled back his own fears. “Whatever you need from me.”
    She nodded, drew back. “Let’s take it upstairs. It always helps me see things clearer, or from other angles, when I run the case by you.”
    They started up. “Tell me a little about her first. Did you know her well?”
    “No. I ran into her a couple of times at the morgue. She transferred here a few months ago. From Atlanta. Mavis had it—the vibe thing. He was in love with her, Roarke, and with everything I’ve learned since this morning, she felt the same about him. I get that she was a good cop, detail-oriented. She didn’t live the job.” She glanced over at him. “I guess you get what I mean by that.”
    He smiled a little. “I do.”
    “Organized, feminine. She had eight years on the job. No big flash in her jacket, no big lows. Steady. People liked her, a lot. Her squad, her main weasel, hell, the woman who owns the Chinese place where she ordered her takeout. I can’t figure out what she did, who she twisted, to be targeted like this.”
    “It was target