Vendetta in Death (In Death #49) - J. D. Robb Page 0,85
And a woman generous and caring of nature.”
“One out of three for me then.”
“Darling Eve, no one would call you well-mannered or well-bred, but it’s clearly two out of three. Regardless, your killer may see herself as any or all of those examples, or simply have enjoyed the ring, we’ll say, of the title.”
He might find it insulting, but he thought like a cop. A good cop. Since he would find it insulting, Eve didn’t mention it.
“Yeah, there’s that. But you know Justice Warrior has a ring, Justice Seeker, and so on. Non–gender specific. She’s proud of being, you know, a lady.”
“Ah, well there you have a fine point. It’s back to Women For Women, isn’t it then?”
“That’s how I see it.” She studied the house as they rolled through the gates. “What’s a lady with a penis?”
“Possibly conflicted.”
“No, I mean a guy lady—the male version.”
“If I’m following, I suppose a lord.”
“Yeah, that could fit you.”
“I’d as soon not be a lady with a penis, if it’s all the same.”
“Forget that part.”
“Happily.”
“Lords sort of rule their domain. It’s a strong word, lord. Lady—I go back to wuss. But not in the killer’s mind. It’s something to be proud of.”
“You’re circling back to Darla Pettigrew.”
Yes, she thought, but wondered how he saw it. “Why do you figure that?”
“Well-mannered, well-bred. You could even add a kind of rank as the granddaughter of a legendary star. Caring enough to help a fellow group member.”
Yeah, he thought like a cop.
“It depends, doesn’t it, on if she sees herself that way.”
When he parked, she got out of the car, walked to the door with him. “I’m going to nail down those names, get that going. Are you interested in poking into somebody’s business?”
“My favorite game.”
“Both Eloise and Darla are licensed to drive. None of the vehicles registered to Eloise fit the description of the one seen at the club or the Pettigrew house. There’s no vehicle currently registered in Darla’s name—not her married name, not her birth name. But maybe she’s got herself a couple of buried accounts, maybe a vehicle registered under another name that goes with them.”
She shrugged out of her coat, tossed it over the newel post. “You up for that?”
“Delighted—with a caveat?”
“It that a sex euphemism?”
“Not in this case.” He took her hand as they walked upstairs. “You’ve had a handful of hours of sleep the past two nights combined. You get your names confirmed, get Peabody started on the interviews. I look into this.”
“I don’t see the caveat.”
“No coffee—and you’re in bed, sleeping, inside two hours.”
“How am I supposed to work without coffee?”
He gave her a pat on the butt. “Inner strength.”
* * *
While Eve worked and Roarke poked, Arlo Kagen sat on his usual barstool in his usual bar drinking his usual beer and a bump.
In fact his third beer and bump of the evening. The bar—a hole-in-the-wall called Nowhere—served cheap greasy food the booze helped slide down.
Arlo had already finished his mystery meat burger and limp soy fries while he bitched and belched at the Yankees versus Red Sox on the screen.
He didn’t give half a rat’s ass about baseball, considered it a pussy game, but the bartender refused to switch to Arena Ball.
He slurped up more beer, considered ordering some nachos, then noticed the woman come in.
Looked like a street-level whore to him, with the skirt up to her crotch, the fishnet stockings, the tight sweater with half her boobs—nice boobs—spilling out.
She had a lot of purple hair tumbling around to hide half her face—trying to hide the ugly pucker of a scar slashed down her right cheek.
Not much to write home about from the neck up, he thought. But she had it going on from the neck down. In Arlo’s view a woman’s face didn’t much matter when sex was all they were really good for.
He could use a quick bang, if the price was right.
She slid on the stool beside his, ordered a beer in a squeaky voice.
Since she looked like she’d come cheap, and a cheap BJ suited him better than a pussified ball game, he gave the bartender the sign.
“Put it on my tab.”
She looked at Arlo with grateful brown eyes from under the purple hair. “Thanks, handsome.”
“No problem. Haven’t seen you in here before.”
“New turf for me. Just taking a load off. Slow night.” She took a tiny sip of the beer set in front of her, gave him a little flirt. “You come in here a lot?”