Inherit the Dead

frankly, the painting looked like smudges of blue and green with some black dots sprinkled throughout.
    “You’ve voiced my work with greater empathy than I might have managed myself,” she murmured.
    Of course he had. She’d had no idea of what she’d been painting. And neither did he.
    “Do sit down, please, and tell me why you’ve come, why you wanted to see me.”
    She led him to the settee. He sat at one end. She draped herself at the other but in a way that brought her leaning close to him.
    Jeeves cleared his throat and tapped at the door. He carried a silver tray with a silver ice bucket and crystal champagne flutes.
    “Shall I pour, mum?”
    “Yes, please do, Jeeves,” Lilith said. She had one arm leaned on the back of the settee. Her legs were half curled beneath her. She wore the white shirt open, and the mounds of her breasts generously spilled above the scoop of her tank top.
    She still didn’t look at Jeeves; her eyes were on Perry, and that secretive smile curved her lips. Jeeves slipped her champagne flute into her hand. “Thank you,” she said briefly.
    Perry reached for his own glass and nodded his thanks to the butler. He couldn’t help but think of the movie Clue.
    What do butlers do?
    They butle, of course.
    “Will that be all, mum?” Jeeves asked.
    “Yes, please, and see that we’re not disturbed. Mr. Christo and I have a matter of some importance to discuss,” Lilith said.
    Jeeves left them, closing the door to the studio behind him.
    Lilith took a sip of her champagne and paused to enjoy the taste. “Do drink up, Perry. Once a bottle of champagne is opened . . . well, you know.”
    Not exactly—at least, not in the case of Lilith Bates.
    “So,” she asked, and her tone was like warm honey, “just what is the matter of importance we need to discuss?”
    “Angelina Loki,” he said.
    He didn’t think that he really took her by surprise, but he was astounded by the knife’s edge glitter that came into her eyes.
    “Oh?”
    Everything about her that had been relaxed, sensual, and sinuous as a cat seemed to change.
    “She’s one of your best friends, isn’t she?” he asked.
    “Of course,” she said quickly. Too quickly.
    “She’s disappeared.”
    “Oh, I doubt that she’s disappeared; I mean, people don’t just disappear, do they? Of course, you may be using that word in an abstract way . . . rather like abstract art. What you see is that she’s disappeared, but of course, she hasn’t really,” Lilith said.
    “So you know where she is?” he asked.
    “Me? No! Goodness, no!” She’d sipped her champagne so delicately before; now she chugged the contents of the flute.
    “Have I upset you?” he asked her.
    “No, I mean, I’m quite certain the little minx is just fine, it’s just that—well, as you said. She is one of my dearest friends.”
    She rose—rather she unwound herself—in full grace again and walked a few feet into the room, her empty glass forgotten in her hand. “Why are you looking for her?”
    “Her mother is distraught; she needs to find her.”
    Lilith laughed. It was a dry and brittle sound. She spun on him. “That battle-ax? The only thing that causes her distress is discovering a new wrinkle! Trust me: if that woman is trying to find Angel, Angel’s better off wherever she may be.”
    “Ah. I take it you don’t much like her.”
    Moving more like a wooden figure, stiff and disjointed, Lilith reached into the ice bucket for the bottle and poured herself more champagne.
    “No, I don’t much like her. And that family’s money is wound up into more trusts than you could ever imagine.”
    “And you know this from Angel?”
    “She may have mentioned it. I just, well, I just assume in a wealthy family like that . . . ”
    “That there are financial trusts. Did Angel have one?”
    “I . . . assume so. She never seemed to worry about money.”
    “And she’ll have more coming after her mother dies?”
    “I suppose. But I wouldn’t know about that. How would I?”
    “So Angel never said anything to that effect?”
    “No.” Lilith’s lips tightened around the word, as if she were lying.
    “I see.”
    “Julia Drusilla is a gorgon. She has the mothering instincts of a cub-eating papa bear.” She stopped speaking and spun on him. “Oh,I see—private eye. You’re being paid to find her for that witch who calls herself a mother.”
    “I’d never bring harm to Angel,” he said.
    Lilith sniffed and turned away from him.