Imitation in Death

She ran the elements through IRCCA, searching for similar crimes, and found one in London more than a year before that could fit. Still open. It wasn’t exact, she mused. Messier, sloppier.

Practice session?

There was no note on elegant stationery, just the mutilated body of a young LC. Not the same type as Wooton, Eve acknowledged, and wondered if she was grasping at straws.

There were plenty of slice-and-dice, a number of LCs, especially on street level, who’d been assaulted, even killed, by clients or would-be clients. But nothing that matched the barbaric elegance of Jack.

She spoke with neighbors, coworkers, associates of those on her possible list, keeping the interviews informal and discreet. Pushing, poking for that crack. But nothing broke.

She faced her Sunday off with a

“Maybe you should give her brain, and your own, a day off.”

She frowned over at Roarke as they crossed the sidewalk to Mira’s pretty house, set in her pretty neighborhood. “What?”

“You’re muttering out loud.” He patted her shoulder supportively. “I don’t know as talking to yourself when knocking on the door of a shrink is the best of behaviors.”

“We’re only staying a couple of hours. Remember? We agreed on that.”

“Mmm.” With this noncommittal sound, he pressed his lips to her forehead. And the door opened.

“Hello. You must be Eve and Roarke. I’m Gillian, Charlotte and De

It took her a beat as she rarely thought of Mira by her given name. But Mira was stamped, clearly, on her daughter’s face.

Though her hair was longer, well past her shoulders and curling, it was the same rich sable. Her eyes were the same mild and patient blue, but they were homed in on Eve’s, looking deep. Her frame was longer, lankier like her father’s, and she’d draped it in some loose, airy top and pants that stopped inches short of her ankles.

One of those ankles carried a tattoo, a trio of co

She was Wiccan, Eve recalled, and responsible for a couple of Mira’s grandchildren.

“It’s lovely to meet you.” Roarke was already taking Gillian’s hand, and smoothly stepping between two women who were obviously taking each other’s measure. “You favor your mother, who I’ve always considered one of the world’s loveliest of women.”

“Thanks. Mom said you were very charming. Please come in. We’re spread out”-she glanced back to where a baby’s strong wails poured down the stairs-”as you can hear, but most of us are in the back. We’ll fix you a drink, so you’ll be braced for the onslaught of a day at the Miras.”

There were a considerable number of them there already, gathered in the kitchen/activity room that was as big as a barn, and nearly as noisy. Through the two-story glass wall of the back, others could be seen on a wide patio decked with chairs and tables and some sort of large, outdoor cooking device that was already smoking.

She could see De

Another man was with him, his son maybe, and they seemed to be holding an intense and spirited debate with a lot of laughter and beer-swilling from bottles.

There were kids of various ages milling or ru

Food was spread out all over, and urged on them while introductions were made. Someone pushed a margarita in her hand.

When he opted for beer, Roarke was told he’d find them outside in a cooler. A young boy-Eve was already losing the names as they came at her like grapeshot-was given the task of escorting Roarke out and introducing him to the rest.

With the boy’s hand clasped on his, Roarke looked over his shoulder, shot a wicked grin at Eve, and strolled outside.

“It looks chaotic now, but… it’ll get worse.” With a laugh, Mira took a bowl of yet more food out of an enormous refrigerator. “I’m so glad you came. Lana, stop pouting and run upstairs. See if your aunt Callie needs any help with the baby.”

“I don’t see why I have to do everything.” But the kid scooted down and away.

“She’s irritable because she broke the rules and can’t have screen or comp privileges for a week,” Gillian commented.

“Oh.”

“Her life, as she knows it,” Gillian said as she bent to pick up a toddler-sex undetermined for Eve-from the floor, “is over.”

“A week’s an endless stretch of time when you’re nine. Gilly, taste this coleslaw. I think it could use a bit of dill.”

Obediently, Gillian opened her mouth, accepted the bite her mother held out on a fork. “Bit more pepper, too.”

“So, um…” Eve already felt as if she’d entered a parallel universe. “You’re expecting a lot of people.”

“We are a lot of people,” Mira said, chuckling.

“Mom still thinks we all have the appetites of teenagers.” Gillian rubbed a hand absently over Mira’s back. “She always makes too much food.”

“Makes it? You made all this?”

“Hmm. I like to cook, when I can. Especially when it’s for family.” Her cheeks were pink with pleasure, her eyes laughing as she winked at her daughter. “And I drag the girls into helping out. It’s shamefully sexist, of course, but none of my men are worth two damns in the kitchen.” She glanced out the window wall. “Give them a big, complicated smoking grill, however, and they’re right at home.”

“All our men grill.” Gillian gave the toddler a little bounce on her hip. “Does Roarke?”

“You mean, like, food?” Eve looked out to where he stood, apparently enjoying himself, picnic casual in jeans and a faded blue T-shirt. “No. I don’t think he has one of those.”

– -«»--«»--«»--

There were soy dogs and burgers, the potato salad of Roarke’s fantasy, cold pasta, big chunks of fruit swimming in some sweetened juice, fat slices of tomatoes, the slaw, and deviled eggs. Bowls, platters, trays of those and more were shuffled around. The beer was cold and the margaritas kept coming.

She found herself in a conversation with one of Mira’s sons about baseball, and to her frozen shock had a small, blond child climb up her leg and into her lap.

“Want some,” he burbled at her and gri

“What?” She looked around in mild panic. “What does he want some of?”

“Whatever you’ve got.” Mira patted the boy’s head as she passed by to take the baby from her daughter-in-law and cuddle it.

“Okay, here.” Eve offered her plate with the hope the boy would take it and go back about his business. But he just dipped his fat little fingers into her fruit salad and came out with a slice of peach.

“Like it.” He took a bite, then generously offered her the rest.

“No, you go ahead.”

“Off you go, Bryce.” Gillian hefted him off Eve’s lap and instantly became her new best friend. “See what Granddad’s got for you.”

Then she plopped down beside Eve, arched her eyebrows at her brother. “Go away,” she told him. “Girl talk.”

He ambled away, good-naturedly. Amiability, Eve thought, appeared to be a common trait for the men in this family. “You’re feeling overwhelmed and just a little out of place,” Gillian began.

Eve picked up what was left of her burger, bit in. “Is that an observation or the result of a psychic scan?”

“A little of both. And a little of being the daughter of two observant and sensitive people. Large family gatherings can be odd for those who don’t have one of their own. Your Roarke adjusts more seamlessly.” She glanced around to where he sat with De