"No problem. Got a kitchen?"
He let out a weighty sigh. "Sure. Right through that doorway. Make yourself at home. I won't be long."
"Take your time." Eve strolled off to the kitchen. In contrast to the elaborate living area, this was spartan. It seemed Charles spent little time eating in. Still, he had a full-size friggie unit rather than a cold cell, and she found the treasure of a Pepsi chilling. Satisfied for the moment, she sat down to enjoy it while Charles finished off his three o'clock.
Soon enough, she heard the murmur of voices, a man's, a woman's, a light laugh. Moments later, he came in, the same easy smile on his face.
"Sorry to keep you waiting."
"No problem. Are you expecting anyone else?"
"Not until later this evening." He took out a Pepsi for himself, broke the freshness seal from the tube, and poured it into a tall glass. He rolled the tube into a ball and popped it into the recycler. "Dinner, the opera, and a romantic rendezvous."
"You like that stuff? Opera?" she asked when he flashed a grin.
"Hate it. Can you think of anything more tedious than some big-chested woman screaming in German half the night?"
Eve thought it over. "Nope."
"But there you are. Tastes vary." His smile faded as he joined her at the little nook under the kitchen window. "I heard about Sharon on the news this morning. I've been expecting someone to come by. It's horrible. I can't believe she's dead."
"You knew her well?"
"We've been neighbors more than three years – and occasionally we worked together. Now and again, one of our clients would request a trio, and we'd share the business."
"And when it wasn't business, did you still share?"
"She was a beautiful woman, and she found me attractive." He moved his silk-clad shoulders, his eyes shifting to the tinted glass of the window as a tourist tram streamed by. "If one of us was in the mood for a busman's holiday, the other usually obliged." He smiled again. "That was rare. Like working in a candy store, after a while you lose your taste for chocolate. She was a friend, lieutenant. And I was very fond of her."
"Can you tell me where you were the night of her death between midnight and three A.M.?"
His brows shot up. If it hadn't just occurred to him that he could be considered a suspect, he was an excellent actor. Then again, Eve thought, people in his line of work had to be.
"I was with a client, here. She stayed overnight."
"Is that usual?"
"This client prefers that arrangement. Lieutenant, I'll give you her name if absolutely necessary, but I'd prefer not to. At least until I've explained the circumstances to her."
"It's murder, Mr. Monroe, so it's necessary. What time did you bring your client here?"
"About ten. We had dinner at Miranda's, the sky cafe above Sixth."
"Ten." Eve nodded, and saw the moment he remembered.
"The security camera in the elevator." His smile was all charm again. "It's an antiquated law. I suppose you could bust me, but it's hardly worth your time."
"Any sexual act in a secured area is a misdemeanor, Mr. Monroe."
"Charles, please."
"It's a nitpick, Charles, but they could suspend your license for six months. Give me her name, and we'll clear it up as quietly as possible."
"You're going to lose me one of my best clients," he muttered. "Darleen Howe. I'll get you the address." He rose to get his electronic datebook, then read off the information.
"Thanks. Did Sharon talk about her clients with you?"
"We were friends," he said wearily. "Yeah, we talked shop, though it's not strictly ethical. She had some funny stories. I'm more conventional in style. Sharon was… open to the unusual. Sometimes we'd get together for a drink, and she'd talk. No names. She had her own little terms for them. The emperor, the weasel, the milkmaid, that kind of thing."
"Was there anyone she mentioned who worried her, made her uneasy? Someone who might have been violent?"
"She didn't mind violence, and no, nobody worried her. One thing about Sharon, she always felt in control. That's the way she wanted it because she said she'd been under someone else's control most of her life. She had a lot of bitterness toward her family. She told me once she'd never planned on making a career out of professional sex. She'd only gotten into it to make her family crazy. But then, after she got into it, she decided she liked it."
He moved his shoulders again, sipped from his glass. "So she stayed in the life, and killed two birds with one fuck. Her phrase."
He lifted his eyes again. "Looks like one of the fucks killed her."
"Yeah." Eve rose, tucked her recorder away. "Don't take any out-of-town trips, Charles. I'll be in touch."
"That's it?"
"For the moment."
He stood as well, smiled again. "You're easy to talk to for a cop… Eve." Experimentally, he skimmed a fingertip down her arm. When her brows lifted, he took the fingertip over her jawline. "In a hurry?"
"Why?"
"Well, I've got a couple of hours, and you're very attractive. Big golden eyes," he murmured. "This little dip right in your chin. Why don't we both go off the clock for awhile?"
She waited while he lowered his head, while his lips hovered just above hers. "Is this a bribe, Charles? Because if it is, and you're half as good as I think you are… "
"I'm better." He nibbled at her bottom lip, let his hand slide down to toy with her breast. "I'm much better."
"In that case… I'd have to charge you with a felony." She smiled as he jerked back. "And that would make both of us really sad." Amused, she patted his cheek. "But, thanks for the thought."
He scratched his chin as he followed her to the door. "Eve?"
She paused, hand on the knob, and glanced back at him. "Yes?"
"Bribes aside, if you change your mind, I'd be interested in seeing more of you."
"I'll let you know." She closed the door and headed for the elevator.
It wouldn't have been difficult, she mused, for Charles Monroe to slip out of his apartment, leaving his client sleeping, and slip into Sharon 's. A little sex, a little murder…
Thoughtful, she stepped into the elevator.
Doctor the discs. As a resident of the building, it would have been simple for him to gain access to security. Then he could have popped back into bed with his client.
It was too bad that the scenario was plausible, Eve thought as she reached the lobby. She liked him. But until she checked his alibi thoroughly, Charles Monroe was now at the top of her short list.
CHAPTER THREE
Eve hated funerals. She detested the rite human beings insisted on giving death. The flowers, the music, the endless words and weeping.
There might be a God. She hadn't completely ruled such things out. And if there were, she thought, It must have enjoyed a good laugh over Its creations' useless rituals and passages.
Still, she had made the trip to Virginia to attend Sharon DeBlass's funeral. She wanted to see the dead's family and friends gathered together, to observe, and analyze, and judge.
The senator stood grim-faced and dry-eyed, with Rockman, his shadow, one pew behind. Beside DeBlass was his son and daughter-in-law.
Sharon 's parents were young, attractive, successful attorneys who headed their own law firm.
Richard DeBlass stood with his head bowed and his eyes hooded, a trimmer and somehow less dynamic version of his father. Was it coincidence, Eve wondered, or design that he stood at equal distance between his father and wife?
Elizabeth Barrister was sleek and chic in her dark suit, her waving mahogany hair glossy, her posture rigid. And, Eve, noted, her eyes red-rimmed and swimming with constant tears.
What did a mother feel, Eve wondered, as she had wondered all of her life, when she lost a child?
Senator DeBlass had a daughter as well, and she flanked his right side. Congresswoman Catherine DeBlass had followed in her father's political footsteps. Painfully thin, she stood militarily straight, her arms looking like brittle twigs in her black dress. Beside her, her husband Justin Summit stared at the glossy coffin draped with roses at the front of the church. At his side, their son Franklin, still trapped in the gangly stage of adolescence, shifted restlessly.