In Death 32 - Treachery in Death

I?”
    Eve tucked her ’link away and strolled into O’Riley’s.
    Fiddle music piped out of the speakers, a backdrop to conversations among the grab-a-drink-after-work crowd. In a few hours, she knew, musicians would settle into one of the booths with their instruments, pints at the ready, and fill the place with bright reels and sad songs. The bartenders would hustle, pulling pints, pouring glasses for the crowd that invariably packed in.
    The little redhead waved to her, gestured to a table for two. Eve remembered her from when she’d joined Roarke and a couple of his out-of-town business associates who’d wanted a taste of an Irish pub, New York style.
    “Get you a drink, Lieutenant?” the redhead asked, and balanced her tray on her hip.
    “Not yet, thanks.”
    “Just give me a sign when you’re ready.”
    Eve sat down, back to the wall, scanned the customers. Coworkers winding down, some tourists, a guy doing his best to hit on a couple of twenty-somethings who were stringing him along.
    Cop didn’t blip on her radar.
    And Renee came in.
    She’d changed from her power suit into a little black number that showcased her body, left toned arms bare. She’d paired it with hot red heels so her toes, painted the same color, could play peekaboo, and left her rain of blond loose. The complex series of sparkling links around her neck held a round red pendant.
    She did her own scan, Eve noted, a slow sweep with eyes expertly shadowed and smudged. Then sent Eve a friendly smile as she walked toward the table.
    She likes knowing she’s caught attention, Eve thought, that men are checking her out and women are wondering who she is.
    “Thanks for meeting me.” Renee slid onto her chair. “I hope I’m not late.”
    “No.”
    “Do you come here a lot? It looks like a nice, friendly place. Unpretentious. A working man’s bar.”
    Eve wondered what the reaction might have been if she’d set the meet at the Down and Dirty. “Now and then,” she said, and caught the waitress’s eye. “Nice outfit,” she commented. “You didn’t have to dress up for me.”
    “Actually I’m meeting my parents for dinner later. Have you—”
    She broke off as the redhead came to the table. “What can I get you, ladies?”
    “Pepsi, on ice,” Eve told her.
    “Oh, come on, Dallas, live a little.” With a bright, beaming smile, Renee tossed back her hair. “We’re off duty, aren’t we? And I’m buying.”
    “Pepsi,” Eve repeated, “on ice.”
    “Well, I’m off duty. I’ll have a vodka martini, straight up, two olives.”
    “I’ll get those right to you.” The waitress set a snack bowl of pretzels on the table, then went to put the order in.
    “I was going to ask if you’d ever met my father.”
    “Not formally, no.”
    “I’ll have to introduce you sometime. I’m sure you’d enjoy each other.” Renee took a pretzel from the bowl, broke it in half, nibbled. “We should have dinner. You, your husband, my father and I. Roarke’s certainly a man I’d like to meet.”
    “Why?”
    “Like my father, he has a strong reputation, and it would seem, a gift for command. He’d have to, to have reached his level of success. It must be fascinating, being married to a man who commands that much power, with so many varied . . . interests. I heard you vacationed in Europe this summer.”
    “You want to talk about my summer vacation?”
    “I don’t see any reason you and I can’t be friendly, do you?”
    “Do you want a list?”
    Renee sighed, sat back, and continued to nibble on the tiny piece of pretzel. “We really did get off on the wrong foot, and I’m willing to take responsibility for a great deal of that. I was upset about Keener, and I admit, territorial. So we butted heads when it would’ve been more efficient, and certainly more productive, to work in tandem.”
    She paused again when the waitress returned with their drinks. “Anything else I can get you for now?”
    “We’re good,” Eve told her. “Thanks.”
    Renee lifted her glass. “Why don’t we drink to a fresh start?”
    Eve left her glass where it was. “Why don’t you define fresh start?”

    In the snug, Webster watched the exchange. “She’s chapping Renee’s ass.”
    “She’s good at it,” Roarke agreed. “She’ll wind her up. The more Eve rejects the overtures, the more Renee will push.”
    “It’s a good play. Garnet’s hammering her on one side, Dallas is blocking her on the other. You know Dallas is trying