In Death 31 - Indulgence in Death

Darrin’s a regular, long-term client.”
    And a booking by a regular, long-term client when Jonas would already be out—at the party Dudley had invited her to—ensured she’d be where they wanted her, when they wanted her.
    “I’d like copies of the e-mails. Has Ms. Jonas ever facilitated for Mr. Moriarity, Mr. Dudley?”
    “Yes. They’re very good clients. Was it a mugging?”
    “No.”
    “I didn’t see how it could be. She’s trained in self-defense, a black belt in several martial art disciplines, and she carried repel spray and a panic button.”
    “In her purse?”
    “The spray, yes. Her wrist unit had the panic button. It’s very much like mine.” Wallace tapped her wrist. “Adrianne gave everyone who works with her one. We go into unusual places, often at unusual times. We all take self-defense courses. She wanted us safe,” Wallace added, and the first tear spilled down her cheek. “Can you tell me what happened to her?”
    It would be out soon enough. “She was hanged.”
    “Oh, God, my God.” She blanched as her hands gripped together in her lap. “Can any of this be happening?”
    “I know this is hard, but I need to see those e-mails. It would help if I could go through the apartment. Did she have workspace here?”
    “Yes. Yes. We work in the adjoining unit, primarily. It spills over, of course, into the living space.”
    “You and Ms. Jonas, and Katie?”
    “Oh, Jesus, I have to tell Katie. She’s not due in until noon today. I should contact her. And Bill and Julie.”
    “Bill and Julie?”
    “Her parents. They live in Tulsa. She’s from Tulsa.”
    “We’ll notify her parents. Maybe you can contact them later today after I’ve spoken with them.”
    “All right. Yes. All right. I was worried, a little worried, when she wasn’t here this morning. But I thought maybe she went back to the party after her appointment, and maybe she went home with someone. It’s not usual, but she and Bradford Zander—one of the other guests last night—saw each other occasionally. But she didn’t answer her ’link, and she was fierce about always answering, or at least acknowledging a contact. But I told myself it was nothing, to give her a few more minutes, that she might be in the shower or . . .
    “Then I saw you at the door, and I knew. We have a whole file on you.”
    “You what?”
    “Oh, that sounded wrong.” She rubbed her damp face with the heels of her hands. “Adrianne believes in being prepared. You might be a client one day. So we keep files—articles and basic data. She admired you. She believed, strongly, in women leaving a deep mark doing what they were meant to do. And as soon as I saw you, I knew why she wasn’t home, why she didn’t answer her ’link. She’s my best friend in the world, and I knew you were here to tell me she was dead.”
    Wallace wiped another tear away, blinked the rest back. “You’ll find who did this to her. She’d have expected that from you. I’ll take you through to the offices.”
    As they rose, the buzzer sounded.
    “Will you excuse me a minute?”
    As Wallace went to the door, Eve angled herself to keep it in view. She watched Roarke step in, take Wallace’s hands. He kept his voice low, so all she heard was the comfort in the tone.
    When she turned back, Eve saw the tears had won again.
    “I’ll take you both over. I’ll get a printout of the e-mails you wanted.”
    “It would be helpful if you’d get me a list of anyone who knew Ms. Jonas was going to the park, and when.” Busywork, Eve thought, but it would give the woman something to do.
    “All right.” She walked them back through the foyer and through already open doors to another large unit.
    Another living space designed to Eve’s eye to keep clients comfortable. Stylish, sunny built-ins that likely housed entertainment and refreshment equipment.
    Later, Eve decided, she’d need to go through the rest of the space, the more personal spaces.
    “Can you tell me if she had trouble with anyone? A client who was unhappy or dissatisfied? A personal problem with anyone?”
    “She never left a client unhappy. She’d find a way, and if it wasn’t exactly what they were after, she had a talent for making them think it was, or that it was better than they’d expected. On a personal level, she kept things casual. She wasn’t ready, she said, for a serious relationship. I honestly don’t know of anyone who’d do this to her. People liked her—it was part of