Strangers In Death

Eve opened her mouth, slammed it back shut. But apparently some sound had snuck out before she zipped it.

“Not those clients.” Charles shot Eve a look. “Part three of the news is I’ve retired, and am about to begin a new career in psychology, specializing in sex therapy.”

“That’s what you were doing with Mira.” Eve punched his shoulder.

“Yes. Ouch. She’s been an enormous help to me in the transition. A lot of LCs are married, or get married, and manage very well. I didn’t want to be one of them.”

“Well, good, because that’s just screwy. I can say that,” Eve complained when Roarke poked her again, “because he’s not doing the screwy. Jeez, like you weren’t thinking it.”

“Excellent timing,” Roarke a

“Wow, look at that gorgeous pie. Look how beautiful the lemon is against the white meringue.” She sca

“I’m more interested in eating the lemony yellow.”

“I’m thinking wedding again-matron of honor dress. Charles and I want the two of you to stand up for us. We met through you.”

“We’d be absolutely honored.” The quick glance Roarke sent Eve was the equivalent of a poke. He passed around champagne, lifted his glass. “To your happiness, and the life you’ll make together.”

“Thank you.” Charles laid a hand on Roarke’s arm, then leaned over to kiss Eve, very softly on the lips. “Thank you.”

“This is so…” Louise blinked at tears. “Everything. I’m so happy, so beyond happy. And now there’s champagne and pie.”

“Don’t drip on it,” Eve advised and made Louise laugh.

“I’m so glad you called Charles, so glad you gave us the excuse to come over. I can’t think of a better way to cap off the best night of my life.”

“About that,” Eve began, then wondered why her brain didn’t explode from the laser beam Roarke shot out of those wild blue eyes. “It can wait.”

“It’s all right,” Charles told her. “You want to ask me something more about Ava.”

Friendship, she thought, was always screwing with procedure. “Tomorrow’s fine.”

“It’s all right,” Louise echoed. “If Charles can help, we both want him to. Really,” she said to Roarke. “It’s another, less giddy reason we stopped in.”

“I’ve thought about it-about Ava,” Charles began. “There’s been so much going on in my head it’s been hard to squeeze it in. But I have thought about it.”

“Ah…maybe we could go up to my office for a couple minutes.”

“Dallas, I know you can’t quite get a handle on how I can look at Charles’s work-his prior work,” Louise added, “as separate from our relationship. But I can. I have. It’s not a problem for me. So if you have a question about the LC-client relationship, just ask it.”

“I talked to her first husband. Did she ever mention him to you?”

Charles shook his head. “No. I knew she’d been married before. I do a check on any potential client. For safety, and to give myself a sense of them. A fairly early, fairly brief marriage, if I’m remembering right.”

“He’s an operator. Struck me that way. A womanizer with more money than morals and a really high opinion of himself. Nothing like the type I’d have put her with.”

“She was young. Younger,” Charles said.

“She walked away from the marriage with a nice financial settlement, after she caught him with another woman. One she’d introduced him to, and according to him, then provided him with ample opportunities to bang. She never brought that up?”

“No, she didn’t.”

“He also told me that Ava was enthusiastic in bed. Or good in it anyway. I tend to go with that, as his type would be more than happy to say she was a lousy lay. You indicated she was on the shy and cool side. Lights-off type.”

“That’s right. Sexual levels, preferences, abilities, they all can change. Inhibitions can set in for a lot reasons.”

“And women can fake enthusiasm, or lack thereof. It’s tougher for a guy, seeing as you wear your enthusiasm or lack thereof between your legs.”

“She has such a way with words,” Roarke commented. “And imagery.”

“She ever fake it with you, Charles? You’ve been in the game long enough. You’d know. You’re too professional not to.”

“No, she didn’t, and yes, you’re right, I would’ve known. Clients do, occasionally, and it would be my job to determine whether to let it go, or to explore the reasons why they didn’t, or couldn’t orgasm.” His brow knitted as he sipped champagne. “And now that you bring it up, I expected her to have some trouble there, at least the first time or two. Nerves, shyness. But she responded easily.”

“You said you get a nice percentage of clients through recommendations, referrals. Did she ever send anyone to you?”

“As a matter of fact, yes. I think she sent a couple clients. One-timers. I don’t remember right off, but I can look it up for you.”

“Do that.” She brooded a moment, trying to think if there was any angle she’d missed. “Okay. Back to pie.” She took a good forkful, sampled. “Holy hell. Speaking of orgasms.”

“A subject of which I never tire.” Roarke took a bite himself. “Well now, this is miraculous. Where did you get it?”

“This kid’s gra

“An option for you,” Roarke continued. “As you consider the where and when of it.”

“A wedding here? In the gardens? I don’t know what to say. Charles?”

He smiled at Louise. “Bride’s choice.”

“Then I know exactly what to say. Yes. It’s my second best yes of the night! Yes, thank you so much.”

“That’s fine then. Come around whenever you like to have a look around. Summerset would be a help to you there. It’s a lovely spot for a wedding.” Roarke looked over at Eve. “And, I think, a lucky one.”

“Yeah. It’s pretty damn lucky.”

When the happy couple left, Eve walked back up with Roarke. “One question,” she began. “Does having a wedding here mean I have to do stuff?”

“Stuff, as in?”

“Screw around with caterers and florists and decorators.”

“I believe Louise will want full control there.”

“Thank God.”

“Of course, as matron of honor, you’ll have certain duties.”

“What? Duties? You stand there in a fancy dress, probably holding a bunch of flowers.”

He patted her shoulder as they turned into her office. “You keep thinking that, darling, for as long as it comforts you.”

She scowled, pulled at her hair. “It’s like Mavis having a baby, isn’t it? I have to do all this stuff because they’re doing all this stuff, which is completely-when you think about it-their stuff, but it gets to be my stuff because somehow or other they got to be my stuff.”

“The fact I followed that clearly from point to point proves you’re my stuff.”

“I’m not thinking about it. I’m just not. It makes the backsides of my eyes ache. Computer, display last run.”

Blowing out a breath, she dropped down at her desk to get back to murder. That was the stuff she understood.

Shortly after one A.M., she roused when Roarke slid an arm under her knees. “Damn it, I dropped out. Just for a minute. You don’t have to…” But when he picked her up, she shrugged a shoulder. “Okay, what the hell. I got two more possibles. Not as strong as Petrelli, but possibles.

“Mmm.” Her voice was slurry, a sign she’d not only hit the wall but slid bonelessly under it.

“Need interviews, then could run some probabilities. Gotta hammer the crack,” Eve continued.

“Absolutely. I’ll fetch you a nice big hammer first thing in the morning.”

“Got hundreds left to run. Longer it takes, longer she has to patch up the damn hole. Not going to run though, no sir, not going to run.”