In Death 28 - Promises in Death

Dallas, Mr. Roarke, I’m Rod Sandy, Mr. Ricker’s personal assistant. If you’d come with me?”
    He led the way into a wide living space.
    She’d been right about the view, it was a killer. The wall of windows and glass doors opened to a bricked terrace that jutted out toward the spires and towers of New York. Inside, the sunny, open space murmured with European dignity. Antiques mixed with deeply cushioned chairs and sofas, all in deep hues that translated wealth without flash.
    A room, Eve mused, Amaryllis Coltraine would have approved of.
    More flowers sat in the hearth in lieu of a fire, framed in marble. Paneled walls concealed such mundane matters, she thought, as entertainment and mood screens, room security, data-and-communication centers.
    All that showed was comfort, style, and the money required to maintain both.
    “Mr. Ricker’s just finishing up a ’link transmission. He’ll join you as soon as he’s free.” The tenor of the statement indicated Mr. Ricker was a very busy, very important man, and would make time for his lessers when it suited him. “Meanwhile, please sit, be comfortable. May I offer you coffee?”
    “No, thanks.” Eve remained standing. “Have you worked for Mr. Ricker long?”
    “Several years.”
    “Several years as his PA. And you don’t ask the nature of our business here?”
    Sandy’s lips curved, very slightly. “I doubt you’d tell me if I did. In any case, there’s no need.” Something smug came into the polite smile. “Mr. Ricker’s been expecting you.”
    “Is that so? Where were you night before last from twenty-one to twenty-four hundred?”
    “Here. Mr. Ricker had dinner in, as did I. We remained in that evening.”
    “You live here?”
    “When we’re in New York, yes.”
    “Plan to be here long?”
    “Our plans are flexible at the moment.” He looked past Eve. “Should I stay?”
    “No, that’s all right.”
    Alex Ricker stood in the wide archway off the living area. His eyes, a dark, steady brown, skimmed over Eve to settle, to hold, on Roarke. He owned the sort of face, Eve thought, that seemed to have been chiseled, painstakingly, into angles and planes. Dark, bronzed hair with a hint of curl brushed back from his forehead. Like Roarke, he wore a suit, perfectly cut. She thought they looked like the dark and the light.
    He stepped forward, a smooth gait, a slim build, with every appearance of ease. But he wasn’t at ease, Eve decided. Not quite at ease.
    “Lieutenant Dallas.” He offered a hand, and a firm, businesslike handshake. “Roarke. I wondered if we’d ever meet. Face-to-face. Why don’t we sit down?”
    He chose a chair, relaxed back into it. And again, Eve thought, not quite relaxed.
    “Your assistant said you’ve been expecting us.”
    “You,” Alex said to Eve. “Obviously I’ve followed your . . . work.”
    “Is that so?”
    “I think it’s natural enough to be interested in the police officer responsible for my father’s current situation.”
    “I’d say your father’s responsible for his current situation.”
    “Of course.” After the polite agreement, he glanced back at Roarke. “Even without that connection, I’d have had some curiosity about your wife.”
    “And I make a habit out of taking a personal interest in those who take one in mine.”
    Scary Roarke, Eve thought, but Alex smiled and continued before she could speak.
    “I’m sure you do. In any case, I understand the two of you often work together, or I suppose it’s more accurate to say you engage Roarke as a civilian expert on occasion. I didn’t realize this would be one of those occasions.”
    The pause wasn’t a hesitation but more of a beat, as Eve interpreted it. One that separated one tone and topic from another.
    “You’re here about Amaryllis. I heard what happened to her yesterday, so I’ve been expecting you. You’d study her files, from Atlanta as well as from here. Once you saw my name, you’d have to wonder.”
    “What was your relationship with Detective Coltraine?”
    “We were involved.” His gaze stayed level with Eve’s. “Intimately involved, for nearly two years.”
    “Lovers?”
    “Yes, we were lovers.”
    “Were?”
    “That’s right. We haven’t been together for about a year now.”
    “Why?”
    He lifted his hands. “It didn’t work out.”
    “Who decided it wasn’t working out?”
    “It was mutual. And amicable.”
    Eve kept her eyes sharp, her voice pleasant. “I’ve found when