In Death 32 - Treachery in Death

though he knows I gotta get a sitter costs more than I make when it’s night work.”
    “Was Juicy in?”
    “Yeah, he came in. Got a whole damn pie—with sardines. That’s his usual—the topping, not the whole pie. Whole pie, couple of brews, so he had to be flush.” She pulled another kerchief out of her apron pocket, dabbed at her sweaty throat. “In a real good mood, too.”
    “Is that so?”
    “He tipped me. I get a tip about once every ten blue moons, but he laid a five on the counter, and says, ‘That’s for your own sweet self, Loo.’ Says how he’s settling his accounts, closing up shop, and going where there’s cool, sea breezes. Full of bull.”
    Then she shrugged, stuffed the kerchief back in her pocket. “I guess you know what he does, but he was always polite to me. Always said thanks—and he never did business in here. I guess he’s in trouble.”
    “He’s dead, Loo.”
    “Oh.” Loo shook her head, cast her eyes down a moment. “I guess it’s hard to be surprised when somebody lives that life.”
    “How about this guy?” She gestured for Peabody to show Bix’s shot.
    “Haven’t seen him in here. He’d stick out, that’s for sure. Big, healthy white guy. Seen him somewhere, maybe. Maybe ... yeah, I think I saw him—somebody big and white anyway, hanging around down the block when I walked home.”
    “What time did you get off?”
    “Not till damn near three. Half the streetlights out, and I don’t stroll, if you get me, when I’ve got to walk home at that time of night. I caught a glimpse because I keep my eyes open. Mostly the assholes leave me be because they eat here, but you never know. So I caught a glimpse, like I said. Could’ve been this guy.”
    “Good enough. Thank you.”
    “I’m sorry about Juicy. I didn’t like how he made his way, but he never did me any harm.”
    Not a bad epitaph for a junkie, Eve thought as she left.

9
    EVE CALCULATED SHE HAD TIME FOR A QUICK shower and change herself. She’d feel better and would be able to turn all the data, statements, and observations over in her mind while she scraped off the grunge from a dead man’s flop.
    She began to turn them over even as she walked into the house, into the cool, into the beady stares of Summerset and the cat.
    “Have I missed a national holiday? There must be celebrations in the streets for you to be home at this hour of the day.”
    “I’m calling it Summerset Goes Mute Day. The city’s gone mad with joy.” She angled for the steps, stopped. “I’ve got a team coming in for a briefing.”
    “So I’m informed. You’ll be serving pulled pork barbecue, a cold pasta salad, fresh tomatoes with mozzarella, and green beans almondine.”
    “Oh.”
    “Followed by peach pie à la mode and a selection of petit fours.”
    “We’ll never get rid of them.”
    “How is Detective Peabody?” he asked as she started up the steps.
    She stopped, shoulders tense. “Why?”
    “I’m neither blind nor insensitive, Lieutenant. She was very obviously shaken when she and Detective McNab arrived last night.”
    “She’s steady. She’s fine. I also figure you know what goes on in this house, so you know we all went out, two separate vehicles, and came back late. You know Peabody and McNab stayed here, you know Whitney was here early this morning. The circuits are closed on this, closed tight.”
    She might’ve been on the steps above him, but Summerset managed to meet her eye and transmit the impression he looked down his nose.
    “I don’t discuss your professional or personal business.”
    She ordered herself to throttle back. She knew he didn’t gossip. He’d hardly be the man Roarke trusted with, well, everything, if he was a blabbermouth.
    “I know that. This is an extremely sensitive and layered investigation.”
    “Involving Detective Peabody.”
    “You could say. And that’s all I can say.”
    “Would you tell me if she’s in trouble? I’m very fond of her.”
    She knew that, too—and this time didn’t have to tell herself to throttle back. “No, she’s not in trouble. She’s a good cop. That’s why she’s involved.” Crap. Now she felt obliged. “Listen, I’m sorry I couldn’t spend more time with your friends last night.”
    His eyebrows lifted, ever so slightly. “Perhaps it is a national holiday.”
    “Anyway.” Leaving it at that, she continued upstairs.
    “Go on,” Summerset told the cat. “I expect she’d like the company whether she knows it or