[In Death 24] - Innocent in Death

by J. D. Robb

  “No problem. The au pair has a steady head on her shoulders. Gave the nine-one-one the name of the med, gave the MTs the bottle. We knew what we were dealing with straight off, and that made a difference, too. She’d started CPR, gave the patient another fighting chance. Beautiful woman, the patient. Husband, sweet little girl. You never know.”

  “Nope, you never know.”

  21

  AS LOUIS NEEDED TO GET UP TO CCU, EVE TURNED to Mira. “Well?”

  “She’s an excellent actor.”

  “She’s in Drama Club.”

  “I’m not surprised. I’d need a longer session with her, probably more than one to be definitive, but I tend to agree with your analysis. She enjoyed having me focused on her, even though she was very aware of you. She wanted to be sure you were listening to her.”

  “And I was. She was pretty damn detailed in the conversation she claims to have had with her mother. ‘I love you best. I know you’ll be brave.’ Made sure she got in there, too, how her mother sometimes gets sick. She’s planned it all, rehearsed it all. Had to ad lib since Cora ruined it for her.”

  “Or postponed it. Allika Straffo may never wake up. Eve, she’s enjoying this now. The hospital, the crisis, the way the medical staff treats her so gently. Her father’s fear and grief, her nanny’s attention.”

  “Yeah, she’ll milk it. But it’s going to run dry real soon. I need you and Louise to use some muscle, get Straffo and the kid in one of the family rooms here tonight. I don’t want the girl in with her mother.”

  “In a situation like this, with the mother critical, the CCU staff will encourage family to spend time with the patient.” Like Eve, Mira considered the options. “If you alert the staff, it’ll show,” Mira said. “She may pick up on it.”

  “Yeah, yeah, she would.” Eve paced a few strides down the corridor, then back. “Okay. I want a twenty-four/seven guard on her. I’ll get one who has some medical training, but it’s going to be my man on her.”

  “Because you think Rayleen may try to finish what she started.”

  “Probably not, not at this point, but I’m not taking any chances. I’ll couch Louise, so she makes sure it trickles down to the kid that her mother’s going to be watched every minute, for medical reasons. I’m going to have to slip the knife into Straffo, and tell him Allika’s under suspicion of two murders, and I’m putting a guard on the door.”

  “The man’s barely holding on.”

  “I’m counting on that,” Eve countered. “And I have to count on him letting go. Rayleen doesn’t do things out of desperation or impulse, so I think Allika’s secure for now. This is just precaution.”

  “How are you going to handle her?”

  “I’m going to let her think she’s sliding through it. Let her relax, and make sure she believes she’s snowed me. Poor kid, her mother kills a couple of people, then tries to do herself. I need to lay it out for Straffo, and that’s not going to be easy.”

  “He won’t believe you.”

  “I don’t know, maybe not. I’m working on that part.”

  Daddy was furious. Rayleen couldn’t hear everything he said, or that Lieutenant Dallas said to him, but she could tell it made Daddy mad. Still, the snippets she caught when her father’s voice rose were enough to please her.

  Stupid police, she thought as she lay curled up on the sofa of the waiting area, pretending to sleep. They thought they were so smart, but she was so much smarter.

  If nosy-posy Cora hadn’t interfered, her mother would already be dead. But Rayleen wasn’t sure that would be better. She could tell by the tight faces around her that everybody knew her mother was going to die anyway. This was so much more interesting.

  It was like Ms. Hallywell said about being on stage. If someone forgets a line or says the wrong one, you have to be able to think, in character, and keep going.

  She kept her eyes closed and smiled inside when she heard her father.

  “My wife is fighting for her life.”

  “Your wife tried to take her life. I’m sorry.” The lieutenant’s voice was calm. “I hope she makes it. Sincerely.”

  “So you can charge her with two murders? Allika could never hurt anyone.”

  “But herself? Look, again, I’m sorry. I’m not saying we’re going to charge her. I’m telling you now, as a favor, that we have to weigh this act in. If and when she’s able to talk, I’m going to have to question her. It’s hard on you, and God knows it’s hard on your kid. I’m trying to give you some time to prepare.”

  “Just go. Just go and leave me alone with my family.”

  “I’m leaving. I’ll be back if she comes out of it. Oliver…take care of yourself and your daughter. The kid’s been through more than any kid should have to handle.”

  Rayleen kept her eyes closed as she felt her father sit down beside her. As he gently, gently stroked her hair. And she kept them closed when she heard him begin to quietly weep.

  She wondered how long she’d have to wait to get pizza and a fizzy.

  Eve pulled her communicator out as she headed down. It signaled in her hand before she could use it to tag Peabody.

  “Dallas.”

  “You clear?” Peabody asked.

  “Yeah, heading out. Allika’s critical, on life support. Chances slim. I got a guard on her door and another with med training inside her room. Louise was on.”

  “Handy.”

  “Yeah. I heard her tell Straffo he should spend as much time as possible in her room with her, talking to her, telling her to fight. Might help. Who the hell knows? The kid’s playing it out perfectly, but she didn’t stump Mira, not this time. So we’re getting some weight.”

  “We’ve got more. I found the diary.”

  Eve had to stop herself from doing a victory dance as she pushed out the hospital doors. “I knew there was a reason I kept you around.”

  “You’re damn straight. Took freaking hours.”

  “Where?”

  “In the kitchen recycler. I went over every damn inch of this place, kept the uniforms on to help. Why the hell didn’t I think of the recycler first?”

  “How much is left?”

  “All, I’d say, as it’s inside a fancy metal box embossed with her name. I can tell there’s a book inside it—the weight, and it thumps around when I shake it. Only went through one cycle, I think. Banged up. Locked tight, too. Lock’s too small for a master, and it’s caved in. Probably have to cut through it.”

  “I’m swinging by to get it. Roarke will beat the lock.”

  “Mag. I’ll touch on McNab, tell him to put Valentine’s on hold.”

  “No.” Eve climbed into her vehicle. “It’s going to take time to put all this together. Fucking tricky business. I’ll take the diary, log it in and out of evidence.”

  “Already logged it in by remote.”

  “Even better. For now, you go home, have a drink, have sex with McNab if you must.”

  “I must,” Peabody concurred. “I must.”

  “Be sure to block video if I tag you later. I don’t wish to be struck blind. We’re going to put this together, and we’re going to lock it down.”

  She clicked off. “Rayleen, you little shitbag,” she mumbled. “I got you.”

  While Eve drove, contacting both Whitney and Mira to update, Roarke selected the champagne he wanted for dinner.

  He’d worked most of the day, and very soon, he hoped, both he and Eve would put their responsibilities aside. And just enjoy each other.

  He knew she’d be pleased, and get a good laugh out of his choice for the meal. For their intimate, at-home dinner for two, he’d chosen pepperoni pizza. A personal favorite of hers.

  He’d also selected what could loosely be called lingerie for her dinner attire. She’d laugh at that, too. And he would certainly enjoy seeing his wife in the red silk chemise trimmed with white ermine.

  As she hadn’t contacted him to tell him she’d gotten hung up, he thought the chances were good they’d make
that dinner at eight. He’d decided they’d dine in Prague, courtesy of the holo-room. The romantic architecture, a thickly falling snow outside the windows, Gypsy violins singing in the air.

  A bit over the top, he supposed, but why the hell not?

  “Roarke.”

  “Hmm.” He acknowledged Summerset as he completed his selections, set the programming.

  “Magdelana is at the gate.”

  “She’s what?”

  “At the gate,” Summerset repeated. “Asking to come in, a bit tearfully. She claims she must speak with you, even for just a moment. Should I tell her you’re unavailable?”

  That would be the easy way, Roarke supposed, and damned if he wasn’t tempted to take it easy. But if he didn’t deal with this now, he’d just have to deal with it later. And he could admit to a certain curiosity. Just how would Maggie explain herself this time?

  “No, let her in. Show her into the parlor. I’ll deal with her.”

  “The lieutenant should, I believe, be home within the hour.”

  “Yes, so make it quick. Let’s move this business along and be done with it.”

  Troublemaker, Roarke thought as Summerset went to give Magdelana access. He’d always known she was one, and had, in fact, found that attractive. But he hadn’t seen, not clearly, just how deep the penchant for stirring up the pot went in her.

  He knew how to handle troublemakers. Once he had, she’d go off, understanding him perfectly. And that would most definitely be that.

  He took his time going down. Do her good to cool her heels, he thought. And Summerset would make certain she didn’t palm any of the silver.

  As he expected, Summerset remained in the parlor, and had given Magdelana, who looked pale and delicate in ivory satin, a glass of wine.

  She stood by the fire, at the optimum distance, the perfect angle for the flames to sprinkle light over her skin, to glow light through the satin.

  Setting the stage had always been a skill of hers. Only this time he’d been the mark. And as far as she was concerned, he still was.

  “Roarke.” She lowered her head, as if in shame. But not before the thinnest sheen of tears sparkled over her eyes. “Oh, Roarke, can you ever forgive me?”

  “You’ll excuse me?” he said to Summerset.

  As Summerset left the room, she set down the wine with the slightest tremor in her hand. “I feel absolutely dreadful about this. I just…Roarke, I’ve been out of town for the last two days, only just got back. But I heard—and saw. I tried to contact you before I left, as soon as I…But—”

  “I’ve been busy.”

  “Avoiding me,” she said with those tears in her voice. “I wasn’t sure you’d see me at all. Damn paparazzi. They should all be hanged.”

  “Even they have to make a living.”

  “But to imply something so completely innocent was…was something illicit. We should sue them. But, of course, that only makes it worse. I know, I know.” She lifted a hand, waved it distractedly. “I can’t imagine how upset you are. And your wife. Is she very angry?”

  He angled his head. “What do you suppose?”

  “In her place, I’d be furious! They made it look as if we were…We were only saying good-bye. You and I know, Roarke, we were only saying good-bye.”

  “We do yes, and we were.”

  “Perhaps if I tried to explain to her. Is she here? I could try—”

  “You’d already know she isn’t here.”

  Magdelana closed her swimming eyes. Regroup, he thought. Reconfigure.

  “All right, yes. I admit it. I wanted to speak to you alone first, so I called downtown. They said she was in the field, so I came right over. God, I’m such a coward.” She touched her fingers to her lips. “But if it would help, even a little, I’d try to explain to her.”

  “I think not. She’s perfectly aware of the circumstances.”

  “Oh. Good. Good. What a relief.”

  “Perfectly aware that you set it up, that you staged it, and paid the camera to get the vid out.”

  “What? That’s ridiculous. That’s…Roarke.” She said his name with a soupçon of injured feeling, just the right addition to shock. “How could you possibly think I’d do something like that? I understand you’re angry and upset—so am I—but to accuse me of deliberately trying to hurt you and your wife. For what purpose?”

  It was hardly a wonder they’d done so well, professionally speaking, in the months they’d worked together. She was brilliant. “I’d say the amusement would be quite enough for you.”

  “That’s a despicable thing to say to me.” She picked up the wine again. “Absolutely despicable.”

  “Do you think I can’t track down the camera, that I can’t bribe well enough to learn all the details? You underestimate me, Maggie.”

  She carried her wine to the window, stood with her back to him. “No. No,” she said quietly. “I could never underestimate you. Maybe I wanted you to know. Knew you would, in the end. It’s you who underestimate me, Roarke, my feelings for you. My regret.” And looked over her shoulder. “My desire. I admit it. I’m not proud of what I did, but I won’t be ashamed either. I did what I thought I needed to do. I’d have done anything to get you back. Nothing else matters to me. Only being with you again.”

  He waited a beat. “Bollocks.”

  “How can you mock my feelings?” She threw the wine down, shattering the glass. “How dare you when I stand here, stripped bare?”

  “I’m not mocking them, I’m clearly saying you haven’t any feelings. You never did, for me or for anyone but yourself.” He let out a half-laugh. “Took me longer to get to that than it should have.”

  Then even that half-laugh was gone, and he was ice. “You came here, to New York, to test the waters. I have a great deal more than I once had, and you hoped for a piece of it. She saw through you, you know. The first look.”

  Magdelana tossed her head, strode toward him. “And from the first look at you again, I saw she had you under her thumb. How that made me laugh! The rich and powerful Roarke, tamed and trained by a skinny cop with no style or beauty.”

  “Odd. From where I’m standing, she has more style, more beauty, and—Christ knows—more class than you can ever claim.”

  He didn’t so much as flinch when she slapped him. “You won’t want to do that again,” he said, softly enough to have her lower her hand.

  “Roarke—”

  “It’s you who wanted to put a leash on me, Maggie, who thought she could just by snapping fingers. And when I didn’t go to heel you did what you could to cause trouble for me and my marriage, to hurt my wife.”

  “So what if I did? It’s just a game. You used to have a sense of humor, but apparently she’s whipped that out of you, too.”

  “You’ll never understand her, or me. You’ll never understand what we have. More pity for you, you’ll never have it. You’re not capable. So here’s how this plays now. Listen carefully: You’ll never step foot in my home again, or in any of my other properties or businesses—which includes every hotel, transportation system, shop, restaurant, and so forth that I own or have majority interest in. There are quite a number of them.”

  “Oh, for Christ’s sake. You can’t block me from—”

  “I can,” he corrected, so coolly her color ebbed. “I will. You’re going to leave New York, and in fact, the country, within three hours.”

  “You can’t control the whole damn country,” she shot back.

  “Actually, I’d give that a good try, if only to watch you sweat. But, I don’t need to. If you’re not gone, well gone, within those three hours beginning…” He checked his wrist unit. “…now, Interpol and Global will receive some very interesting and very detailed information on you.”

  This time, she went dead white. “You’d betray me that way?”

  “Again, listen carefully. I’d crush you like a bug for causing my wife one single moment of pain. Believe it. Fear it.”

  “If you tried a
nything like that, I’d take you down with me.”

  This time he smiled. “You could try. I’m so much more than you, you’d never pull it off. And Maggie, you’d find the accommodations in prison very limiting, and not at all to your taste.”

  He saw her lips tremble before she managed to firm them. He saw her absorb the shock of the truth. The she shrugged, carelessly. “I don’t need you. I never did.” She strolled away, circling the room. “I only thought we might have some fun together, but obviously you don’t know how to play anymore.”

  “The clock’s ticking,” he warned her.

  She whirled around. “I prefer Europe any way. New York bores me. You bore me.”

  She saw the flash of headlights strike the window glass, and changed tack instantly. “Oh, what the hell.” She let out a robust laugh. “You found me out, shut me down. No point in whining about it. Time to cut my losses and move on. Plenty of fish to fry.”

  She looked at him, smiled. “I’ll never understand how you could possibly want her and not me.”

  “No, you’ll never understand it.”

  She stepped forward as if to pick up the fur she’d tossed over a chair. Smoothly, she turned to hand it to him. And with perfect timing, flung herself into his arms.

  The sable fell as he took her shoulders to shove her back.

  Eve stepped to the doorway to see Magdelana with her arms locked around Roarke’s neck, his hands on her bare shoulders—one of the ivory straps sliding to her elbow.

  “Son of a bitch,” she said.

  On cue, Magdelana spun around, her face full of passion and shock. “Oh, God. Oh…it’s not what it looks like.”

  “Bet.” Eve strode in.

  Actually, Roarke thought, it was more of a swagger. He had a moment to admire it, before Eve rammed her fist in his face.

  “Fuck me.” His head snapped back, and he tasted blood.

  Magdelana cried out, but even the deaf would have caught the suppressed laughter in the sound. “Roarke! Oh, my God, you’re bleeding. Please, let me just—”

  “Don’t look now,” Eve said cheerfully. “But he’s not the only one.” She decked Magdelana with a straight-armed jab. “Bitch,” Eve added as Magdelana’s eyes rolled back and she fell, unconscious, to the floor.