by J. D. Robb
“Which ends up, quite remarkably, making an absolute truth.”
She shrugged. “I could write a book of sayings that should actually be sayings if people didn’t keep killing each other.”
Sitting on the side of the bed, she pulled on her boots.
“Earrings,” Roarke reminded her before she could rush out and pretend she’d forgotten about them.
“Okay, okay.” She had to walk to the mirror to put them on, and wondered, as she often did, how she’d let Mavis talk her into getting holes poked in her ears.
Then she frowned at her reflection because, damn it, she could see exactly what Roarke meant. She looked competent and powerful, but not in-your-face. So when she got in somebody’s face—and she suspected she would—surprise!
Of course, if she had to get physical, which happened, she’d mess up a really good suit.
“Okay, it works.”
“It does, absolutely. It needs just one more thing,” he added as he rose to go into his own closet.
“I’m not going to wear any more glitters.” She already had the fat diamond he’d given her on a chain under her shirt—but that was sentiment. Plus the wedding ring, which was, well, sentiment and a Marriage Rule.
The earrings were enough.
But he came out not with some shiny bracelet, but a jacket—coat. Which was it? Longer than the one she wore in spring and fall, and the exact same shade of gray as the suit.
She could smell the leather before he crossed to her.
“I’ve already got a…”
Her knee-jerk protest died because, hell, she could smell the leather. He knew she had a weakness for leather.
“You don’t, but now do, have a magic topper. It’s lined and treated, as your jacket and coat are.”
A topper. Figured there’d be an actual word for it.
It wasn’t fancy—he’d have known she’d balk at fancy. Just a simple smoke-colored deal, with pockets slit into the sides, that would probably hit about mid-thigh. The dark silver buttons—not shiny—bore the same Celtic design as her wedding ring.
So he had her on all fronts. Leather, simple, sentiment.
“Come, let’s have a look.” He held it up for her arms. “The pockets are nice and deep—and reinforced. And the length gives you another option.”
With his hands on her shoulders, he turned her toward the mirror, stood behind her, studying the image. “Yes, it works quite well.”
It felt frigging amazing. Soft as butter, light as air, but strong.
“It’s great. Really great.” Turning, she caught his face in her hands, kissed him. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
She grabbed the rest of what she needed from the dresser, assigned things to various pockets. “How’s Summerset going to know which jacket thing to put back on the post in the morning?”
“Consider it more magic.”
“I guess I will.” She walked back to him, kissed him again. “That was the goodbye kiss.”
“So noted. Take care of my cop.”
“She’s got a magic topper.”
She went out, detoured to the office for her file bag, jogged down the steps, where no jacket lay over the newel post.
Magic, she thought, in the form of Roarke buzzing Summerset.
And that was pretty decent magic.
When she got to the park, the memorial area had been staged. Numerous enlarged photos of the deceased stood on simple white easels.
Abner in his doctor’s coat, in running gear, with his husband, with their family. Nothing formal, Eve noted, but warm and casual. Moments in a life.
Flowers made a riot of color in white baskets. Nothing formal there, either, or funereal. Cheerful, she’d have said.
Two tables stood under white cloths. People busily loaded food on one, drinks on the other. A number of runners, already into their morning routine, slowed, even stopped.
Eve kept her eye on them, on those who began to gather—some in running gear, some in mourning black, others in business suits.
She spotted Seldine and those she assumed were her husband, her children, with some of the family. She recognized other faces from Abner’s office.
Buses glided up. She recognized Myata, the chemistry teacher, other adults lining students up as they got out.
By the time Peabody arrived, Eve estimated nearly two hundred already gathered to pay their respects.
“Wow, I didn’t really expect there’d be so many who—” Peabody drew in a long, passionate breath. Whispered, reverently, “The topper.”
“Shut up,” Eve hissed. “Don’t pet it. I mean it.”
“Pet it? I want to lick it.”
“Do and they’ll be holding two memorials this morning.”
“It’s so—just so much so. Ooooh, and the suit! The boots! Holy crap, it’s all—”
She broke off when Eve whipped her head around.
“Whew, nobody dressed like you are should be able to burn the flesh off somebody’s bones with that look.” Then she grinned. “It’s the point!”
“Shut up about it or I’ll crush your still smoking bones with my boot. Jesus, still more coming.”
She’d stayed well back, hoping to scan faces, to judge body language. But now moved into and through the crowd. A lot of kids, she thought, from babies in those pushcart things or in backpacks to toddlers and up to teens.
She wove through to stand with Louise and Charles.
“I’m glad you came.” Louise took Eve’s hand to squeeze, then Peabody’s. “It’s a hard day, but the way they’re doing it…”
“It shows not only that he was loved,” Charles finished, “but that he loved. He cared. Delia.” Charles bent down to kiss her cheek, then with the ease of a friend, flipped a finger in her hair. “I love the red.”
“I’m having fun with it. How are you doing, Louise?”
“Hanging in. They asked me to give the eulogy.” Louise leaned into Charles as she spoke. “They were afraid none of the family would be able to get through it without breaking down. But I—”
“You won’t,” Eve interrupted. “You won’t break down because you know what they need from you.”
“That’s what Charles said. I want you to know Martin has absolute faith in you.”
“Oh hell.”
“No, it’s important for you to know. He understands we’re friends, but he didn’t have to tell me, and he did. He believes you and Peabody will do everything you can do. He said with all his years of working with educators, he can recognize whether someone has a passion for the work, the importance of it, or if it’s just a job. And he recognized it’s not just a job for either of you.”
Louise put an arm around Eve for a quick hug before Eve could evade it. Then did the same with Peabody.
“It matters to him. It comforts him. And right now, when I’m about to speak about a really good friend, it comforts me.”
“She won’t ask,” Charles put in, “so I will. Is there any more? Do you know any more you can tell us?”
“We have a full agenda today on the job that, no, isn’t just a job. We have a lead, and we’ll build on it. You know a lot of these people, so if you see anyone who doesn’t fit in, or who just gives you a wrong feel, let us know.”
She looked around again. “For now, we’re going to move around, get a sense, pay our respects.”
“We’re going back to the house with the family, Kent’s office staff, some of the close friends after. We’ll pay attention,” Charles assured her.
“I’ll be speaking in a few minutes. I guess I’ll have a pretty good view from up there.” Louise gestured to a slim podium set between baskets of flowers. “I’ll try my best.”
With Peabody, Eve moved through the crowd, kept her eyes and ears open, until they paused near Rufty.
“Lieutenant, Detective. It’s so kind of you to come.”
Though red-rimmed, his eyes stayed dry.
“I saw you speaking with Louise a
nd Charles. They’ve been such strong shoulders the last few days.”
“We wanted to pay our respects, and to offer you and your family the condolences of the NYPSD.”
“Thank you. Thank you very much. It’s—it’s time for Louise to speak. Our son started to write the eulogy, but, well, he couldn’t. None of us felt we could manage it.”
“It’s time to sit, Daddy.” His daughter took his arm. “Excuse us.”
“Let’s move back, Peabody. You go left, I’ll go right. Find a vantage point.”
Eve found her own, watching, watching as Louise began to speak, as people stopped chatting or moving around to listen.
She had a mini mic clipped to her black jacket so her voice carried. Eve didn’t pay attention to the words as she studied faces, groups, but heard the tone.
Strong and soothing, and that hit the mark.
She didn’t break down, and though Eve stayed for another ten minutes, no one gave her a buzz.
She signaled Peabody to meet her at the car.
“Louise did so good,” Peabody said as she got into the car. “She was really loving and told sweet stories, and funny ones just when you needed one.” Then she sighed. “There were so many people, and so many types. The killer could have been there, just blended in.
“It was worth a shot,” she added.
“It might be worth another to go to Duran’s memorial, see if we spot any faces who were here.”
“Yeah. There’d maybe be some overlap, but yeah. Can I now?” Peabody asked as Eve drove toward the shuttle station. “Nobody can see.”
“You can touch it, once.”
“Once isn’t a pet! Three times is a pet, that’s minimum.”
“That’s not a thing. That’s definitely not a thing.”
But Peabody had already reached out. Stroked. “So smooth! Now you’ve got the black coat that says I’ll kick your ass and the three asses with you, and the jacket that says I can handle whatever I need to without breaking a sweat. Now this? This says I may be classy, but you don’t want to mess with me.”
“Is that what it says?”
“Loud and clear. On somebody else, it would just say classy, but you put it on the cop, that’s the punch.”
“That’s not bad. And that’s three.”
“I didn’t think you were counting. I love my pink coat, and that color wouldn’t work on me. But I can still lust for it.”
“Keep your lusts to yourself. I don’t plan to soft-pedal it with Grange.”
“I guess that makes me good cop.”
“I’m looking for you to judge her reactions and play it from there. She’s used to giving orders, and being the top dog. I’m betting she’s not going to much like either of us before we get started.”
“Got it, and that’s okay, because from everything we’ve learned about her so far, I don’t like her before we get started. Thinking of all that, I can start off pretending to be a little awed and intimidated.”
“Thanks to EDD and Rufty’s reports and notes, we’ve got a slew of names to hit her with. Including banging one of her teachers on school premises.”
“Do you really think she … with a student?”
“Hard to say. Let’s hope it’s not so hard after we talk to her. We’re doing this on her turf, so she’ll think she has the advantage. She doesn’t. We go from her to Kendel Hayward. We’re not notifying her or asking her for an interview.”
Showing her teeth, Peabody rubbed her hands together. “We ambush.”
“Close enough. She’s got a lot to lose if she’s in any way involved. She’s got a lot to lose if she knows or suspects anything and doesn’t come clean. That’s what we make clear.”
“I don’t need to pretend to be awed or intimidated.”
“We pressure—from both sides—until we get a sense.”
“Something could break loose. It’s too bad we’re going to East Washington after the cherry blossoms have peaked. I bet it’s really mag.”
They both spent the short trip drinking coffee and going over notes. With Peabody taking occasional happy glances out the window, and Eve avoiding same.
On the other end, a shuttle employee stood beside a car with its codes.
“It’s already programmed for you, Lieutenant. When you’re finished, you can leave the codes at the desk, and the car out here. We’ll take care of it.”
“Okay, thanks.”
It was a DLE, she saw that straight off. This one in serious black with a few bits of shiny chrome—and a temp tag.
“It looks good in black.” Peabody walked to the passenger side. “Still really unassuming and ordinary. And I bet it has all the juicy bells and jazzy whistles. I didn’t think the DLE was on the market yet.”
Eve got in, felt the seat perfectly conform to her specifications—and as Peabody got in and sighed, Eve knew the passenger seat did the same for her partner.
“It’s Roarke,” Eve said simply, and engaged the codes.
Good morning, Lieutenant. Your AutoChef is fully stocked, and your personal settings already programmed. Feel free to change anything that does not suit. If you wish to proceed directly to Lester Hensen Preparatory, those directions are also pre-programmed for your convenience.
Of course they were, she thought, because Roarke. “How about Party Elegance?”
Yes, this destination is also pre-programmed, as is Kendel Hayward’s residence. Simply request your chosen destination, and the GPS will engage.
“He doesn’t miss a trick,” Eve murmured. “Lester Hensen Prep.”
Acknowledged. GPS engaged. Map displayed. Please have a safe and enjoyable drive to your selected destination.
She decided after three minutes of driving in East Washington that she seriously needed the computer prompts. Why did everything circle around? What was wrong with straight roads? Had they never heard of a damn grid?
“It’s so pretty,” Peabody said beside her as she opened the window for the breeze. “All the trees, the monuments, the flowers. It’s solid spring here—just enough south of New York to be solidly spring. The grass is so green.”
“Jesus, Peabody, the traffic’s worse than New York.”
It wasn’t really, but she didn’t know this traffic. And felt only sweet relief when she drove along the high iron fence that enclosed Lester Hensen Prep.
She turned in the entrance, blocked by a gate with a gatehouse and an actual gatekeeper. A droid, she noted once he stepped out.
“How can I help you?”
Eve held up her badge. “Lieutenant Dallas, Detective Peabody. We have an appointment, police business, with Headmaster Grange.”
He scanned her badge, checked his log. “Please bear left at the split, proceed to visitor parking, administration. You will be met and escorted to Headmaster Grange’s offices.”
“Great.”
The gates opened; Eve drove through.
15
The campus boasted, Eve had to admit, a lot of green. Sweeps of lawn, trees already in tender leaf. In the distance, she could see a number of kids in shiny red and white tanks and shorts running around a wide oval.
Likely track practice, she mused. She’d done some running in state school, a good outlet for her, as she could run and imagine herself going and going and going until she was free.
The buildings—brick, dignified, columned—had been built to look old, as if they’d weathered a couple of centuries. But her research tagged them as post-Urban construction.
From what she remembered of her history classes, the Urban Wars had done a number on what had been Washington, D.C. After all, it had been, and continued to be, the center of political power. Granting it statehood about the time she’d been born hadn’t changed that.
She made her way to the correct parking area, took a good look at the main building with LESTER HENSEN PREPARATORY SCHOOL carved over the massive double doors.
A fountain, separating the lot from the road that circled the building, arced water into the
air. On its island, red and white flowers spelled out L H P.
“Formidable” was Peabody’s impression.
“Yeah, that works.”
“Well, a lot of lawyers, judges, political types matriculate here.”
“That’s not a plus from my viewpoint.”
Peabody laughed as they got out of opposite sides of the car in a breeze appreciably warmer than the one they’d left in New York.
“Scientists and educators, writers and big business types, too,” she added. “You have to have money, brains—and it probably doesn’t hurt to have connections—to get in the door.”
Peabody took a deep breath. “I know it’s fresh mulch and plantings, but it actually smells rich.”
“First time I’ve heard that rich smells like dirt. There’s our escort.”
Eve watched a woman—early forties—come out of the massive doors, walk down the white steps in black needle heels. The suit, slim, precisely knee-length, had a high collar and military cut.
She walked like a soldier, Eve thought, crisply, straight-backed. Her hair, also black, slicked back snugly into a knot and left her face with its almond eyes and dusky skin unframed.
She skirted the island, clipped along the bricked walkway.
“Lieutenant Dallas?”
“Yes.”
“Ms. Mulray, assistant to the headmaster. I’ll escort you and Detective Peabody.” She gestured toward the path. “Headmaster Grange is in a meeting, but has been informed of your arrival. She hopes not to keep you waiting long. I trust you had a pleasant trip from New York?”
It was rote rather than interest, so Eve answered in kind. “Uneventful.”
Mulray opened one of the doors, held it open into a security station backed with thick glass. Eve glanced at the half dozen scanners, the two uniformed campus security.
“As weapons of any kind are banned on campus, you’ll turn in your service weapons here.”
Eve said, “No.”
“I understand your reluctance, Lieutenant, but this is our policy.”
“I’m going with NYPSD policy. We’re police officers, your headmaster has been informed of our arrival and its purpose. The East Washington Police and Security Department has been so informed. Clearly you have armed campus security, as is protocol. We do not surrender our weapons.
