Page 92 of Bonded in Death

“That’s right! I’d forgotten that. The candy… Fry’s.”

“Peppermint Cream.”

“Yes, that’s the one. For all his complaints about British food, he loved that candy. Oh, he disliked cats in particular. Didn’t care for dogs, but actively disliked cats. We had one in HQ for a while, a kind of mascot. I always believed he disposed of it. He never talked about his family. The rest of us did from time to time. Gio and Leroy had wives and children. Ivanna had her boys. I remember Potter saying he considered wives and children a distraction. One couldn’t afford distractions in war. And someone said—who was it?—Alice, yes, Alice. She said, ‘What do we fight for if not who we love and those who come after us?’”

“What did he say?”

Iris polished off her martini. “He said: ‘We fight to win.’”

When Eve let Iris go, she went to the friggie. She pulled out tubes. Pepsi for herself, the diet sort for Peabody.

“We’re down to mostly corroboration.”

“That last bit?” Peabody cracked her tube. “I thought that was interesting.”

“‘We fight to win’? Fits his profile, fits the picture we’re putting together. We need it, we need all of it. But it’s not getting us closer.”

“Somebody says every detail matters.”

“Yeah. They do.” Eve chugged some Pepsi. “A lot of frigging details, and nothing yet that points to where he is or what he looks like.”

Eve took another chug as Summerset walked in.

“Lieutenant, Detective. I realize you’re putting in a great deal of time and effort. I would only remind you that we have a number of guests who traveled considerable distances today. I’d like to serve dinner in an hour or so.

“You’re, of course, welcome, Detective.”

“Thanks, but McNab’s expecting me.”

“I’ve got work, and I’ll need Roarke. Sit down. This shouldn’t take long.”

“Can I get you something to drink?”

“No, thank you. I’m fine.” He looked at Eve. “I don’t know what more I can tell you.”

“We’re going to find out. I’ve got a list of personality traits, habits, likes, dislikes mined from… our guests. Let’s see if this sparks any more.”

Though she didn’t need them, she glanced at her notes.

“A bigot, homophobic, misogynist, organized, intelligent, skilled, dislikes cats, not fond of dogs, demands things stay tidy and in place. Likes the finer things, high-end clothes, French food, Fry’s Peppermint Cream.”

“How could I have forgotten the candy,” Summerset murmured. “He was literally never without it. Three sugars in his tea. No matter how short we were on it.”

“So add selfish?”

“I suppose you could.”

“He spent time with Harry outside HQ, learning Harry’s… trade.”

“Yes, that’s true. But we all tried to learn from each other. He spent time with Ivan in his lab, and so did I. I don’t recall Potter spending time with me in my section.”

“He considered you the competition.”

“Did he?” Summerset’s eyebrows lifted. “I suppose that’s possible. Iwould have said while we didn’t have any real fondness for each other, we respected each other. I would have been wrong.”

“He liked a good, close shave.”

“Ah yes, the barber near Piccadilly Circus. Some of the lesser royals were said to frequent it.”

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