Page 108 of Passions in Death
“Stop it.” Laughing, she went for a carrot. “I’m giving all that to you, like a present, because you like it.”
“Why, thank you, darling.”
“You’re welcome.” As she ate, thunder rumbled in the distance.
She remembered it had stormed the night of Erin Albright’s murder. While the group had partied and danced and drank, the storm had rolled in, and rolled out again.
“You’re doing that security for the D&D.”
“We are. We should have a system up and running inside a week. You’re wondering how different this would be if he’d already had one.”
“People find a way around them if they’re smart enough, motivated enough. But yeah. He’ll show at the memorial tomorrow, with Rochelle. It’s personal to him, too.”
“His place.”
“There’s that. And he knew her. He liked her. People tended to like her,” she added. “Her across-the-hall neighbors liked her. She gave art lessons to one of their kids, wouldn’t take payment. They had parties, but not loud and obnoxious. When you buy that building in your quest to own every inch of New York, add soundproofing.”
“I’ll make a note. You have a good picture of her.”
“Yeah, I do. I have a decent picture of all of them. Still, people have, like, undercurrents. I’m looking at Mavis and her place, right? There she is, green hair—and who knows what it’ll be the next time I see her? That doesn’t surprise me.”
She lifted her wine, drank.
“Even knowing she’s going to pop out another kid doesn’t surprise me. Her, well, road, shifted with Leonardo. That doesn’t change basic Mavis, but it…”
“Expanded her.”
“Yeah, and literally when you consider Number Two. The color in those rooms, not a surprise. But the way it works, the way the whole place works, the gardening thing, Jesus, making lemonade from actual lemons, all that can still surprise me until I step back and realize all that was always there. She just didn’t have the way, the means, the people to do it.
“She’s still Mavis, but that road shifted, and she’s taking it.”
“You shifted mine.”
She looked back at him. “Guess I did. That goes both ways. So we’re sitting here, having dinner. The cat’s across the room sleeping because you gave him some of that cat candy he likes. We got a breeze coming in because that and the thunder say a storm’s coming. And a handful of years ago, I’d never have pictured this.
“You, either.”
“No. I didn’t have a glimmer. Not until I picked up that gray button that came off your unfortunate suit and slipped it into my pocket. Even then, just a glimmer.”
“You sent me coffee, and maybe I had a glimmer. I just didn’t get it. But here we are. Still, under it, through it, we are what we are. I’m still a murder cop, you’re still a gazillionaire.”
“It works for us, who we are.”
“Good thing, or I wouldn’t be eating these fries made from actual potatoes.” She studied him as she ate one. “Do you still have that button?”
He reached into his pocket, took it out.
She shook her head; her heart simply soared. “Sap.”
“In this area,” he said easily. “But smart enough to get through those initial and formidable defenses of yours with coffee.”
“Yeah, that was pretty damn smart.” She ate a fry made from an actual potato as she studied that incredible face again. “If I’d gone for somebody else, would you have killed me?”
Brows lifted, he picked up his wine. “Now, there’s a sharp turn.” He looked over at her board. “No. I might have bought up the world’s supply of coffee, then convinced you of your mistake. Or, alternately, found a way to… disqualify my rival.”
“Disqualify?”
“One way or the other, short of murder,” he added. “You being a murder cop would have discouraged me on that tactic. And you?”
