In Death 28 - Promises in Death

boot.”
    “I’m sure you’re right. That’s at least part of it.”
    “So he knows what his son’s up to,” Eve calculated. “Which means someone in Alex’s organization is feeding Ricker. Someone close enough to know Alex intended to contact Coltraine, what he hoped. And when. I vote for—”
    “Rod Sandy.”
    “I was voting,” Eve complained. “Damn it.”
    “There now.” Roarke patted her hand, shifted to her. “Alex’s PA, his friend—longtime friend. Certainly a confidant. He’d know, as you’ve concluded, that Coltraine was never on the take. That she wouldn’t turn that way. He’d have known when they met here in New York how it went between them.”
    “And the next day, she’s dead. Sandy didn’t call her. She went armed, and that still says one of her squad to me. But he might have been on the stairs. If he managed to doctor the security, or find another way out—knowing Alex was out of the place, then—”
    “An interesting theory. Hold that thought. Or rather, put it on hold and think lingerie.”
    “Why would I—oh.” She focused on her surroundings and noted they were parked. How the man managed to find a street-level spot in midtown on a Friday evening baffled her. “Where is this place?”
    “Just around the corner, on Madison.” He joined her on the sidewalk, took her hand. “We should take advantage of luck—with the parking and the evening, and polish off the shopping with dinner. There’s a nice place just across the street. We can sit outside, share a bottle of wine and a meal.”
    “I really ought to—”
    “Work, yes.” He brought her hand up to kiss her knuckles.
    He’d sit and eat with her in her office while she did just that, she thought. Because it was the natural order for her.
    She stopped at the corner, looked at him. “Maybe if it was a date.”
    “Sorry?”
    She angled her head, lifted her eyebrows. And watched his smile spread. “Ah. Darling, would you go out to dinner with me tonight?”
    “She won’t, I will,” a woman said as she passed them. “I’ll even buy.”
    “Yeah, I’ll go out to dinner with you tonight.” She kept her hand in his as they walked half a block.
    In the place called Secrets, the window displayed human replicas lounging in silky robes, posing in fanciful bits of lace and satin, flirting in tit-enhancing corsets. Rose petals littered the floor. Eve studied the window, concluded that under normal circumstances she’d have to have a stunner pressed to her head to get her in the door.
    She supposed friendship often amounted to the same.
    “Is this yours?”
    “The shop? I have a small interest. Twenty percent,” he added when she frowned at him.
    “Why only twenty?”
    “The couple who run it—and own the rest—used to work for me. They came to me with their idea, their concept, proposal, and business plan. I liked it. So I gave them the backing. About five years ago. There’s a second one downtown now, in the Village. But it’s a bit funkier. This one’s more Louise, I think.”
    “Then I could’ve just ordered something, had it delivered. Not have to actually . . . shop.”
    “Be brave, little soldier,” he said and opened the door.
    He’d have gotten an elbow in the ribs for the crack, but he knew her well enough to evade.
    The place smelled . . . sexy, she decided. Like smoldering candles and subtle whiffs of perfume. Select items spread like exotic butterflies over displays where others floated like suspended jewels. A woman sat in a gilt and velvet chair perusing a selection of minuscule bras and panties as if they were indeed jewels.
    Another stood across the room, carefully wrapping something red and silky in tissue for a customer.
    “It doesn’t even show,” Eve muttered. “What’s the big deal when you’re just going to cover it up with clothes?”
    “Let me count the ways.”
    “See?” She bumped his hip with hers. “That’s just fuckwear, like I said. I’m not sure I want to—”
    She broke off when the tissue lady spotted Roarke and shot out a megawatt smile. “So good to see you again,” she said to the customer. “Enjoy.”
    “Oh, I will. He will.” With a laugh, the customer started out, swinging her tiny, shiny silver bag.
    “What a wonderful surprise.” The owner, Eve concluded, crossed over in her skinny pink heels to hold out both hands for Roarke’s.
    “Adrian. You look lovely.”
    “Oh.” She fluffed at the soft sunny waves of her hair. “It’s