“Pauline, please, it’s Pauline. I’m glad you set the bar high. I don’t want him to settle for less. I want you to know he’ll be proud every day when he picks up his shield, and I’ll be proud of him.”
Eve wanted escape, wanted the work, but found herself speaking. “He’s smart, and he’s observant, and has a way of working through a problem thoughtfully. His looks don’t hurt. He looks handsome and homespun,” Eve explained. “And some people mistake that for him being a soft touch, easy to dupe. He’s not. And he’s got a shiny code of honor you should be proud of because I figure you’re the one who put it in him.”
“Thank you for that, thank you very much for that.” Her voice broke, her eyes welling up. “Sorry. Emotional day.” She gave Eve’s hand a squeeze, then hurried away.
“That was really good stuff to say to her.” Peabody stepped up beside her.
“She started crying again.”
“It’s a mom thing.”
“Let’s get the hell out of here and go do the cop thing.”
“There’s cake.”
“Your pants are loose, Peabody.”
“Damn it.” As she rushed after Eve, Peabody glanced back at the refreshment table. “Having loose pants means I could eat a little cake.”
“Having loose pants means you can get out of them quicker so we can get back in the field.”
“Somebody said it was buttercream frosting.” But with a heavy sigh, Peabody got in the elevator.
—
Back in her street clothes, Eve took a few minutes in her office to connect with Hanson. Still no communication from Senator Mira, or his probable abductor. Hanson and his partner would interview Vinnie, the driver, and had already spoken to Silas Greenbaum. They’d work their way through the Mira Institute while Eve and Peabody took on the list of women.
By the time she came out Jenkinson and his tie were back at his desk, Santiago at his, and some of the uniforms had trickled in.
“Is anyone actually working today?”
“We’re on it, Dallas.” Knowing her sharp eye, Jenkinson hastily brushed cake crumbs from his shirt. “It was a good thing.”
“Yeah, it was a good thing. You know what else is good? Catching murdering bastards.”
“I like that even better than buttercream frosting,” Santiago said, earning a glare from Peabody.
“You guys are just mean.”
“Then catch me some murdering bastards,” Eve advised. “Peabody, with me.”
“You on a hot one, Dallas?”
She glanced back at Jenkinson as she strode toward the door. “I’ll let you know when I know. Don’t even think about whining over buttercream frosting,” Eve warned, and Peabody settled into a pout as she got on the elevator.
“We’ll hit the baby skirt at the gallery where she works. We’re going by the crime scene first. I want another look around, and you haven’t seen it firsthand.”
“Mira said Mr. Mira was okay, but she looked really stressed. She hardly ever looks stressed.”
“She’ll deal.”
Eve considered herself lucky that the elevator only stopped five times on the descent, and no more than a dozen people filed on, filed off.
“We’ll make a circuit with the known sidepieces,” Eve said as they got in the car. “Say he’s still seeing the artist, but she’s starting to make noises. Oh, Senator Granddaddy—”
“Eeww.”
“Yeah, well. She’s all, If you get a divorce we could be together all the time. And he’s, Now, now, Sweet Baby Sidepiece—”