Roarke caught the change in rhythm of the music. "The fashion show's about to start. We'll have to mingle with Mira later. She seems to be having a very intense conversation at the moment."
Eve had seen that for herself. Cagney bent down close, kept one hand on Mira's arm. He was, Eve noted, doing most of the talking, with a hard, focused look in his eyes that indicated what he said was both vital and unpleasant.
Mira merely shook her head, said little, then, laying a hand on his, patted it once before stepping away.
"He's upset her." The almost fierce sense of protection surprised her. "Maybe I should see what's wrong."
But then the music flashed, the crowd swirled to insure good views for the fashion display. Eve lost sight of Mira and found herself face to face with Louise.
"Dallas." Louise nodded coolly. Her hair was styled and sleek, her siren-red dress simply and beautifully cut. The diamonds in her ears didn't look like simulations. "I didn't expect to see you here."
"Same goes." Or to see you, Eve thought, looking polished, perfumed, and prosperous. "You're a long way from the clinic, Dr. Dimatto."
"You're a long way from Cop Central, Lieutenant."
"I live to socialize," Eve said so dryly that Louise's lips twitched.
"About as much as I do, I imagine. I'm Louise Dimatto." She held out a hand to Roarke. "I'm going to be consulting on a case for your wife. I believe we'll either be fast friends or hate each other before we're done."
Roarke grinned. "Should I lay bets?"
"Haven't quite figured the odds yet." She glanced over to watch the first models parade down the runway. "They always make me think of giraffes."
"Giraffes are more fun to watch," Eve commented. "Seems to me if Drake took all the bucks they sank into putting this fundraiser together, they wouldn't need a damn fundraiser."
"Darling, you're much too logical to understand the purpose of show and beg. The more expensive the event, the higher the donation ticket, and the heartier those involved pat each other on the back after counting the till."
"And then you add the social connection," Louise put in, favoring Roarke with a quick smile. "Those prominent in medicine making their entrance, bringing their spouses or lovers, mingling with each other, and various pillars of the community such as Roarke."
Eve snorted. "Some pillar."
"I think Louise understands that anyone over a certain financial position automatically becomes a pillar."
"And his wife attains the same status."
"Cops make lousy pillars." Eve shifted her gaze from the display of the hot look for upcoming spring and studied Louise. "So we've established why Roarke and I are here, but what about you? How does a doctor doing time at a free clinic rate a ticket to a major event for Drake?"
"By being the niece of the chief of staff." Louise managed to reach through bodies and snag a flute of champagne. She used it to toast.
"You're Cagney's niece?"
"That's right."
Friends, colleagues, relatives, Eve thought. An incestuous little group—and such groups tended to band together like mud balls to block outsiders. "And what are you doing working in an armpit instead of uptown?"
"Because, Lieutenant, I do what I want. I'll see you in the morning." She nodded to Roarke, then slipped through the crowd.
Eve turned to her husband. "I've just taken on a consultant who's the niece of one of my suspects."
"Will you keep her?"
"For the time being," Eve murmured. "We'll see how it shakes out."
• • • •
After the last long-legged model had glided down the silver ramp and the music had subdued to a shimmer to lure couples onto the glossy tiles of the dance floor, Eve tried to identify what form of nutrition was disguised in the arty structure of shape and color on her dinner plate.
Beside her, too excited to eat, Mavis bounced on her seat. "Leonardo's designs were the aces, weren't they? None of the others were in the same orbit. Roarke, you've got to buy that backless-to-the-butt red number for Dallas."