In Death 29 - Kindred in Death

could catch a ride.”
    “I have to go see a guy about his dead brother.”
    Mira gathered up her big pink bag. “Won’t that be interesting? May I?”
    “I guess. He’s a potential. Not high on the list, but . . . Well, if he gives us any trouble, you could hit him with that bag and do some damage.”
    Mira stroked a loving hand over the pastel leather. “We all have our weapons.”
    When they reached her vehicle, Eve did a run on Risso Banks, obtained his home and work addresses.
    “White male, age twenty-four. He’s kept his nose clean since his brother’s bust and unfortunate demise, and has gainful employment. Which fits the profile. Unmarried, no cohab on record. Also fits. And it doesn’t. His brother goes down—literally, as in four stories to splat. MacMasters is the boss, but not the primary, and it’s a shared bust with SVU. Cecil, the brother, worked the illegals and pedophile trades.”
    “A charmer.”
    “Apparently. He wasn’t raped, kicked around, smothered, or strangled. He took a header out a window while trying to avoid arrest. Still, not far out of the way.”
    “A lot of it’s eliminating, isn’t it? Legwork, ’link work, details.” Obviously content, Mira settled back. “What an interesting vehicle. It looks so ordinary from the outside, but it has more hardware than my office inside. And it’s very comfortable—smooth, too,” she added as Eve wove through traffic.
    “It moves like a turbo, and verticals like a jet-copter. Armored and blast proof. It was . . . sort of a favor-slash-present from Roarke.”
    “A present so you wouldn’t have to continually knock heads with Requisitions. I heard about the last wreck.”
    Before she could stop herself, Eve hunched her shoulders. “It wasn’t my fault.”
    “No, but . . . And the favor so you’d be able to accept it, and he’d be able to feel you were as safe as possible.”
    “I guess bull’s-eyes like that are why you have all the initials after your name.”
    “That, and I like to think knowing you and Roarke fairly well. It’s an excellent favor-slash-present. Tell me, since we have a little time, is everyone ready for the wedding? We’re looking forward to it.”
    “I guess, probably.” The word wedding had a little ember of guilt and unease burning in Eve’s gut. “I’m supposed to tag Louise—people tell me—and offer to do matron-of-honor stuff. I don’t know what that is. We did the shower thing, and the dress I’m supposed to wear’s being delivered today. What else is there?”
    “Is that a rhetorical question?”
    “Shit.”
    “I’d advise to contact Louise when you have a few free moments, and ask her if she needs anything. Very likely she won’t need anything but to talk or vent for a bit. She’s an efficient sort who knows what she wants and has certainly arranged it. But there are invariably little glitches and headaches at the last minute. All you really need to do is listen.”
    Eve cut her gaze, full of cautious hope, toward Mira. “Really?”
    “I’d give that an eighty-eight-point-three probability.”
    Eve mulled it, relieved. “That’s decent.”
    “I went by their new home last week, to take a look at Charles’s office. He’s nervous and excited, and has set up a very good area there. Of course I got a tour of the whole house. It’s coming along beautifully, I think. Urban, classic, eclectic—very them. They’re going to make a nice life there.”
    “It’s good. They’re good. It’s all good. I just want to get through this wedding thing.”
    “Don’t tell me you’re nervous.”
    “No. Well, yeah.” Nervous about being nervous had Eve shifting in her seat. “What if the case is running hot, or I’m about to close it, or any of the shit that comes down on the job comes down on the day? What do you do? With Roarke, I don’t have to worry. He gets it. If I have to cancel something or I’m late, whatever, he gets it. He’s extremely frosty in that area. And I still feel guilty sometimes. But this is other. I get that this is, like, The Day. It’s major for Louise. I don’t want to screw it up.”
    “You can only do what you can do, Eve. Louise understands emergencies, priorities, the demands of a vocation. She’s a doctor.”
    Eve frowned over it a moment. “That’s right. She’s a doctor. If she’s got her hands in somebody’s body cavity, she’s not going to pull them out and walk off to put on a fancy dress. She’d finish first.”
    “I