Chapter Three #3
“Yeah, and they’ll take another hard punch.
I liked her, Rachel Chu. I liked that she took on some asshole who tried to pressure her into sex for advancement at work.
And won. I liked the way she made herself hold on when she was clearly shattered because she wanted to help.
And she wanted me to know her husband was a good man. ”
“Was he?”
She shook her hair out of her eyes. Bangs too long, she admitted. She needed to take a whack at them.
“Maybe he wasn’t. I don’t think he was, not all the way through, but to her he was a good man.”
“Are any of us good?” Roarke wondered. “All the way through?”
“No, but you don’t take three million dollars, and over a quarter million annually thereafter, unless there’s a serious flaw. You hide it from your family, I say you’re ashamed of it. But not enough to say no thanks.”
“Weakness, fear?”
“Maybe. I’ll find out.”
“No doubt.” He rose, pointed a warning at the cat, then lifted Eve’s chin. His finger brushed down the shallow dent in it before he laid his lips on hers.
“Take particular care of my cop today, will you then?”
“I can do that. He’s making a slow advance.”
Roarke glanced over, saw the cat had slithered about half the distance. “Honestly, boyo, you can’t possibly be hungry.”
“It’s not hunger. It’s bacon.”
With that, Eve headed downstairs. She decided it was a toss-up whether Roarke would hold the line or cave and give the cat a bite of bacon.
She went outside—a bit cool, but very bright. So he was right about the sunshades.
Her ride waited, and she found the shades in the console where either she’d put them or Roarke had.
Another toss-up.
She drove through the gates, started downtown through what, after a single block, became miserable traffic.
The city, she thought, had some of the best public transportation in the known universe. And still.
Of course, she sat behind the wheel of one of the cars inching along, looking for a break to zip forward.
But she had a reason.
Still, she settled into it, another routine. Avoiding the lumbering maxibuses, the surely insane bike messengers. On the sidewalk, people clipped right along to start their day or crowded around carts for terrible coffee or a fake egg pocket.
A deli, open for business, seemed to be doing a lot of it. A woman in a business suit skimmed along on an airboard, flipped it up at a light to wait.
Eve found herself both baffled and impressed that she did so in heels.
Some guy in running gear, obviously finished with that task, came out of a twenty-four/seven chowing down on a breakfast burrito.
She had no qualms with breakfast burritos, but if you ate one from a twenty-four/seven, you risked all matter of gastronomical issues she didn’t want to think about.
Ad blimps over Midtown blared about boot season.
She considered it always boot season.
She also considered it a reasonable enough hour to tap Louise Dimatto.
“Dallas, hey. You just caught me before my first patient.”
Louise’s hair, sunny and currently sleek, framed her pretty face. Eve knew well enough the sunny would be tousled long before the end of the day.
She might be a small woman, but she moved like a missile.
“Two minutes. You know a Bradley Chu?”
“Sure, I know Brad. He— Oh shit. Oh shit! What happened to him?”
“Not him, his father. Did you know Lawrence Chu?”
“No, not really. I met him a couple of times. Brad’s father’s dead?”
“Killed yesterday. Beaten, Louise. Beaten so when I get to the morgue, I wouldn’t be surprised if Morris tells me every bone is his body was broken.”
Louise stared a moment, gray eyes filled with compassion. “Do you know why?”
“Not yet. He worked for Banner-Wyst. What do you know about them?”
“They do good work. We stock some of their serums and vaccines here at the clinic. They’re pricey, too pricey, in my opinion, but we applied for and were granted a break on that. Was he killed at work? He was . . . research? Lab work?”
“At home. Can you give me a sense of how Bradley felt about his father?”
“He loved him, I know that. He was grateful his parents supported him through medical school, and didn’t push him toward private practice. I’m so sorry to hear this. I’d like to contact him. Is there a problem with that?”
“No. I won’t keep you. If you think of anything, if anything strikes you, tag me back.”
“I will. I’ll see you at the party. God, poor Brad. He’s a good doctor, Dallas. We’re lucky he gives the clinic some of his time.”
“Okay. Wait. The brother. Do you know the brother?”
“Again, I’ve met him. I know they’re tight, and he seems like a good guy. I can and will tell Brad to trust you and Peabody to do everything you can to find whoever did this.”
“Appreciate that, and we will. Thanks.”
It wasn’t family, Eve thought again. That just didn’t click. She needed to talk to the younger brother. And she needed to talk to the houseman.
People who worked in your home, cooked meals, changed your sheets, they knew things about you, had impressions.
But first, she thought as she neared the morgue, Morris.
The dead spoke to Morris, she knew. Just as they spoke to her.