Gillian took a forkful of pasta salad. “There are a couple of things I feel compelled to say to you. I hope you won’t be offended. I don’t mind offending people, but I prefer to do it deliberately, and this wouldn’t be deliberate.”

“I don’t bruise easy.”

“No, I don’t suppose you do.” She switched her food for her margarita. “Well, first, I have to say that your husband is, without question, the most magnificent piece of work I’ve ever seen in real life.”

“I’m not offended by that, as long as you remember the mine part.”

“I don’t poach, and if I did-and there was anything left of me after you’d got done, he wouldn’t even notice. Added to that, I’m very much in love with my husband. We’ve been together a decade now. We were young, and it concerned my parents. But it was right for us.” She nibbled on a slice of carrot. “We have a good and satisfying life, three beautiful children. I’d like to have another.”

“Another what?”

Gillian laughed, turned back. “Another child. I’m hoping to be blessed with one more. But I’ve wandered from my purpose, and I doubt this group will give me much more time alone with you. I’ve been jealous of you.”

Eve’s eyes narrowed, flicked back in the direction where Roarke sat, then back when Gillian let out a low, almost purring laugh. “No, not because of him, though one could hardly be blamed there. Jealous of you and my mother.”

“You lost me.”

“She loves you,” Gillian said, and watched something like embarrassment pass over Eve’s face. “She respects you, worries about you, admires you, thinks of you. All the things she does for and about me. And this relationship, well, annoyed me on some primal level.”

“It’s not at all the same,” Eve started to say, and Gillian shook her head.

“It’s very much the same. I’m the daughter of her body, her heart and spirit. You’re not of her body, but you are, without question, of her heart and her spirit. I was of two minds when she told me you were invited today.”

She licked salt from the rim of her glass as she studied Eve. “The first was purely selfish-why is she coming? You’re my mother. The other was rampant curiosity. At last, I’ll get a good look at her.”

“I’m not in competition with you for Mira’s…”

“Affections?” Gillian finished with a little smile. “No, you’re not. And it was my flaw, my self-absorption that caused those unattractive and destructive feelings in me. She’s the most extraordinary woman I’ve ever known. Wise, compassionate, strong, smart, giving. I didn’t always appreciate it, you don’t when it’s yours. But as I’ve gotten older, had children of my own, I’ve come to treasure everything about her.”

Her gaze swept the patio, then stopped, held on her own daughter. “I hope, one day, Lana will feel that way about me. In any case, I felt you were stealing little bits of my mother from me. I was prepared to dislike you on sight-an attitude that is in direct opposition to what I believe, to what I am, but there you are.” She lifted her glass in a little toast, sipped. “I just couldn’t pull it off.”

Gillian picked up the pitcher of margaritas, poured more in each of their glasses. “You came here today for her. Probably with a little persuasion from your gorgeous husband, but primarily you’re here for her. She matters to you, on a personal level. And I noticed the way you look at my father, with a kind of charmed affection. It tells me you’re a good judge of character, and I know from my mother-who’s one as well-that you’re a good cop, a good woman. It makes it easier for me to share her with you.”

Before Eve could think of a response, Mira walked over, carrying the now sleeping baby on her shoulder. “Did everyone get enough?”

“More than,” Gillian assured her. “Why don’t you give him to me? I’ll take him upstairs.”

“No, he’s fine. I don’t get to hold him nearly often enough.” Agilely, she sat, lightly patting the baby’s back. “Eve, I should warn you, Dennis has convinced Roarke he can’t live without a grill.”

“Well, he has everything else.” She polished off her burger. “And it works great.”

“Dennis would tell you it’s all in the cook, not the cooker. Which I’ll claim when you’ve tasted my strawberry shortcake and peach pie.”

“Pie? You made pie?” Obviously, Eve realized, there was a great deal to be said for family cookouts after all. “I could probably-”

Eve’s communicator beeped. Her face closed down; Mira’s cheerful smile vanished.

“I’m sorry. Excuse me a minute.”

She rose, pulling it out of her pocket as she walked back inside the kitchen, back into the quiet.

“What is it?” Gillian demanded. “What’s the matter?”

“Her work,” Mira murmured, thinking of how Eve’s eyes went cool and flat. “Death. Take the baby, Gilly.”

She was rising when Eve stepped back out. “I have to go,” Eve began, then lowered her voice as Mira walked over, took her arm. “I’m sorry. I have to go.”

“Is it the same?”

“No. It’s him, but it’s not the same. I’ll get you the details as soon as I can. Damn, brain’s a little sloshy. Too many margaritas.”

“I’ll get you some Sober-Up.”

“Appreciate it.” She nodded to Roarke when he joined her. “You can stay. This is going to take a while.”

“I’ll take you, and if need be I’ll get myself home and leave you the car. Another LC?”

She shook her head. “Later.” She took a breath, studying the patio, with its family sprawl, its flowers and food. “Life’s not always a goddamn picnic, is it?”

Chapter7

“Drop me off on the corner. You don’t have to go down the block.”

Roarke ignored her and breezed through the light. “But your associates would miss the opportunity to witness your arrival in this particular vehicle.”

The vehicle was a shiny silver jewel with a smoked glass retractable top and a snarling panther of an engine. It mortified her, they both knew, for other cops to whistle and hoot about her connection with Roarke’s fancy toys.

She sucked it up, yanked off her sunshades. They were new, one of the items that habitually, and mysteriously, appeared among her things. She suspected they were stylish, knew they were ridiculously expensive. To save herself a little grief, she stuck them in her pocket.

“There’s no reason for you to hang. I don’t know how long I’ll be.”

“I’ll stick around a while and stay out of your way.” He eased in behind a black-and-white and an emergency services vehicle.

“That is some ride, Lieutenant,” one of the uniforms said even as she climbed out. “Bet it burns on a straightaway.”

“Button it, Frohickie. What’ve we got here?”

“Sweet,” he murmured, sliding a hand over the gleaming hood. “Femalevic, strangled in her apartment. Lived alone. No sign of forced entry. Name’sLoisGregg, age sixty-one. Son became concerned when she didn’t show up at a family event or answer her ‘links. Came over, let himself in, found her.”

He spoke briskly, though he did shoot one more look over his shoulder at the car as they trooped into an apartment building.

“Strangled?”

“Yes, sir. Definite signs of sexual assault with object. Fourth floor,” he said when they were in the elevator. “Looks like he used a broomstick on her. It’s pretty bad.”

She said nothing, letting the new data filter through.

“He left a note,” Frohickie said. “Addressed to you. Bastard stuck the envelope between her toes.”

“DeSalvo,” she muttered. “GoodChrist.”

Then she blanked it out, blanked it all out so she would walk into the scene with no set images or preconceptions in her head.

“I need a field kit and a recorder.”

“Brought them up when we got word you were tagged away from home.”

She forgave him for his comments about the car. “Scene’s secured?” she questioned.

“Yes, sir. We’ve got the son in the kitchen, with a uniform and an MT. He’s in bad shape. He says he didn’t touch her.”