“Subtly, Lieutenant. Subtle’s my style.”
Eve lifted her brows. “I don’t think so.”
“Interview style,” Darcia said and breezed onto the terrace. She stopped, poured tea, then strolled to the table where Belle was holding court. “Lovely party, Mrs. Skinner. I know we all want to thank you for hosting this event. Such a nice break from the seminars and panels.”
“It’s important to remember that we’re women, not just wives, mothers, career professionals.”
“Absolutely. I wonder if Lieutenant Dallas and I might have a private word with you? We won’t take up much of your time.”
She laid a hand on the shoulder of one of the women seated at the table. Subtle, Eve thought. And effective, as the woman rose to give Darcia her chair.
“I must tell you how much I enjoyed the commander’s keynote this morning,” Darcia began. “So inspiring. It must be very difficult for him, and you, to deal with the convention after your tragic loss.”
“Douglas and I both believe strongly in fulfilling our duties and responsibilities, whatever our personal troubles. Poor Reggie.” She pressed her lips together. “It’s horrible. Even being a cop’s wife for half a century…you never get used to the shock of violent death.”
“How well did you know Weeks?” Eve asked.
“Loss and shock and sorrow aren’t connected only to personal knowledge, Lieutenant.” Belle’s voice went cool. “But I knew him quite well, actually. Douglas and I believe in forming strong and caring relationships with our employees.”
Likes Angelo, Eve thought. Hates me. Okay, then. “I guess being full of shock and sorrow is the reason you eavesdropped from y
our bedroom instead of coming out when we notified Commander Skinner that one of his security team had been murdered.”
Belle’s face went very blank and still. “I don’t know what you’re intimating.”
“I’m not intimating, I’m saying it straight out. You were in the spare room—not the master with the commander. I know you were awake, because your light was on. You heard us relay the information, but despite this close, personal relationship, you didn’t come out to express your shock and loss. Why is that, Mrs. Skinner?”
“Dallas, I’m sure Mrs. Skinner has her reasons.” Darcia put a light sting of censure in her voice, then turned a sympathetic smile to Belle. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Skinner. The lieutenant is, quite naturally, on edge just now.”
“There’s no need for you to apologize, Chief Angelo. I understand, and sympathize—to an extent—Lieutenant Dallas’s desire to defend and protect her husband.”
“Is that what you’re doing?” Eve tossed back. “How far would you go? How many close, personal relationships are you willing to sacrifice? Or didn’t you have one with Zita Vinter?”
“Zita?” Belle’s shoulders jerked, as if from a blow. “What does Zita have to do with any of this?”
“You knew her?”
“She’s our godchild, of course I…Knew?” Every ounce of color drained out of the lovely face so that the expertly applied enhancements stood out like paint on a doll. “What’s happened?”
“She’s dead,” Eve said flatly. “Murdered early this morning, a few hours after Weeks.”
“Dead? Dead?” Belle got shakily to her feet, upending her teacup as she floundered for balance. “I can’t—I can’t talk to you now.”
“Want to go after her?” Darcia asked when Belle rushed from the terrace.
“No. Let’s give her time to stew. She’s scared now. Over what she knows and what she doesn’t know.” She looked back at Darcia. “We had a pretty good rhythm going there.”
“I thought so. But I imagine playing the insensitive, argumentative cop comes naturally to you.”
“Just like breathing. Let’s blow this tea party and go get a drink.” Eve signaled to Peabody and Mira. “Just us girls.”
8
In the bar, in a wide, plush booth, Eve brooded over a fizzy water. She’d have preferred the good, hard kick of a Zombie, but she wanted a clear head more than the jolt.
“You’ve got a smooth, sympathetic style,” she said to Darcia. “I think she’ll talk to you if you stay in that channel.”
“So do I.”