“We’ll sort it out.” Eve got to her feet, wobbled a little. “I forgot I had these damn things on.” She scowled down at her shoes. “I’m going to make sure the sweepers blocked off the roof access.”
“They did,” Peabody assured her. “I already checked.”
“Then let’s get out of here.”
“Ride with us,” Roarke invited. “The car can take you downtown once it drops us home.”
“Oh, boy, thanks. Limo ride! You know, if you take out the chunk where there’s a dead body and a couple hours of interviews, this was a mag evening.”
Eve stripped off the shoes the minute she stepped in the house. And winced. “Why do they hurt more when I take them off than when I have them on? Harris probably did a header into the pool on purpose because her feet were already killing her.”
Roarke scooped her off her aching feet. “You earned a ride.”
“I’ll take it,” she decided as he was already carrying her up the stairs. “You know it’s about fifty-fifty, murder or accidental death.”
“That sounds about right.”
“But it wasn’t an accident.”
“Because?”
“She was asking for an ass-whooping, and too many people who were there had reason to give her one. Blood on the pool skirt, which, yeah, could mean, she fell, got up, fell again—didn’t get up. Dinged-up shoe heels—the one in the pool had dings, too, and a broken strap. Could’ve maybe happened in a fall. And traces of a burned rag in the fireplace.
“The vic pisses everybody off, causes a potentially ugly scene at dinner in front of what I’d call civilians—us.”
“It’s nice to have company in my civilian status for a change,” Roarke commented and carried her straight up onto the platform, dumped her on the lake-sized bed.
“Then she goes up to the roof and conveniently drowns.”
“Convenient would be relative.” He picked up her feet, set them in his lap. “Drowning with the cleverest of murder cops on the premises wouldn’t be convenient for the killer.”
“Sure it would. It …” She trailed off to a low, happy groan as he began massaging her foot. “Oh, that’s good, really good.” She nearly purred when his knuckles pressed on her arches. “And you’re getting so much sex.”
“Always my plan. Consider this foreplay.”
“Who wouldn’t? Anyway, it has that clever murder cop looking at everyone in the same place, at the same time—while everybody who didn’t kill her is trying to think straight enough to remember where they were, what they were doing when. And what everybody but the vic and killer was doing was sitting in a dark theater for a good forty minutes.”
“Focused on themselves.”
“Exactly. Nadine gets tagged, but she takes herself and her ’link off to a private area, and is too distracted to notice if anybody left or came in. Nobody mentioned seeing her go out, not even Andrea, and Nadine had been sitting beside her. We’re in the front, so we wouldn’t see any traffic behind us.”
“And it’s very likely none of them believe any of the others are capable. Everyone who didn’t kill her believes, or wants to believe, it was an accident.”
“Add in they’re united in their dislike of her, and their commitment to the project. It’s always smart to kill in a crowd if you can blend in.”
As he started the same treatment on her other foot, she sighed. “You know that almost—almost—makes it worth wearing those ankle breakers.”
“I figure I owe you as I had the pleasure of enjoying your legs and ass while you did.”
“Business question.”
“All right.”
“When this breaks, which with Nadine leading the charge it already has, how will it affect the project?”
Interesting, he thought, to be discussing murder with his cop while she lay on the bed in her finery. Their life was nothing if not interesting.
“Spun right—and it will be—it’ll power up interest and anticipation. They’ve just been handed a lorry-load of free publicity. An actual murder while producing a major vid about murder? The real-life cop the vid centers on investigating same. It’s a bloody bonanza.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“I see your motive angle, Lieutenant, but it seems a bit extreme to do murder for some media buzz, especially when they’ve already been buzzing.”
“But it’s a nice side benefit. I’m going to think about it. But now I think you should get me out of this dress.”
“I’ve been considering my method on that.”
“I’m pretty sure you just yank the zipper down.”
He smiled, gave her calves a series of squeezes that made their muscles sing. “Over you go then.”
She flopped onto her belly. “Roundtree knew the timing, just how long he could be out of the room. But I feel like I would’ve noticed him leaving. He was up front. Connie knew the timing, and did leave the room by her own admission. I bet Preston had not only seen the reel before, but probably helped edit it together. If this was planned—” She lost her train of thought for a moment when his lips replaced his hands on her calves, and felt even better.
“They’re top candidates. Steinburger and Valerie—they may very well have had that time down, too—and any one of them would know the value of murder and spin.”
He worked his way up to her thighs, warm lips, a tease of tongue.
“And any of the actors could have slipped out,” she murmured as part of her mind began a lovely, lazy drift.
“How would they know she’d be on the roof?”
“The killer could have arranged to meet her there. Or …” The zipper eased down fraction by fraction as his mouth continued to play her. “Or she arranged to meet the killer, which would lean toward impulse killing or crime of passion. Or … I can’t think when you’re doing that.”
“You’ll have to give thinking a pass then, as I’ve no intention of stopping.” He slid the narrow triangle of panties down her hips.
With his mouth at the small of her back, he slid his fingers into her.
Her hands curled into the sheets. “I’m still in the dress.”
“Only parts of you. You’re hot and wet. Soft and smooth.”
The orgasm rolled through her, one extended, luxurious swell that left her steeped in pleasure. He gave himself the delight of her back, long and lean under the sparkle of diamonds, to the curve of muscle in her shoulders, her arms. And back to the heat again so she cried out when the fire took her.
He turned her over, peeled away the dress.
“You’re still wearing a suit.”
He leaned down, circled her nipple with his tongue. “Give me a hand with the tie, would you?”
“You’re making me crazy,” she managed as she struggled to loosen the tie, tug it off.
“Still no intention of stopping.” But he shrugged out of his jacket as he feasted lazily on her breasts. “You look like a pagan. A pagan warrior queen.” He scraped his teeth along her throat. “Naked, glowing, wearing nothing but ropes of diamonds.”
“I want you inside me.” Breath tearing, she bit at his ear. “Hot, hard inside me.”
“My hands are busy at the moment.” He filled them with her breasts. “I’ll need help getting out of this shirt.”
She reached up, tore it open, sending buttons flying.
“Well, that’s one way.”
“It’s how it works when you’re a pagan warrior queen. Take me.” She gripped his hair, yanked his mouth to hers. “I want you to take me like there’s nothing you need more.”
“There isn’t. It’s you. It’s always you.”
But he eased back to deal with the rest of his clothes and used his eyes on her as effectively as he had his hands.
“Everything in me skips and scrambles when you look at me like that.”
“You’re mine.” And that brought him something beyond excitement, something deeper than passion. “You’re mine,” he said again.
And when she lifted her arms to him, brought him to her, chained him to her, he took her as if there was nothing he needed more.
6