The in Death Collection Books 11-15 - J. D. Robb [262]
It took Eve less than thirty seconds to spot what she was looking for. “Naples Communications. One million dollars.”
“Horrible,” Mince said from behind her. “Vince has no need for a system of that complexity. I can’t imagine what he was thinking.”
“I can,” Eve murmured.
“You think he’ll stick to his word about not telling Magda or Lane about this?” Peabody asked as they took the elevator up to Lane’s floor.
“Yeah, at least for the time being. Long enough, anyway, to give us a shot at him, and his pals.”
“Screwing over his own mother. That’s the lowest.”
“I think murder beats that out.”
They walked down the quiet hall, rang the bell beside one of the glossy double doors. Lane opened the door himself.
He was dressed casually in a spring sweater and trousers. His feet were bare, and he wore a trendy sport’s wrist unit. He had a wide, perfect smile.
“Eve, how nice to see you again. Or if you’re here to discuss police business, perhaps I should call you Lieutenant.”
“Since I’m here to talk over some points about the auction, you decide.”
He laughed, gestured her inside. “I can’t tell you how glad I am that you’re taking an interest. It really settles my mother’s mind. Please sit, be comfortable. Liza, company!”
Lane’s suite was several snazzy steps up from the Minces’ suite. The living area flowed in a wide curve toward a formal dining area. Chandeliers glimmered overhead, a snow-white piano held court in a corner. A winding gold ribbon of open stairs led to a second level. And down them, brilliantly beautiful in a skinsuit as white as the piano, glided Liza.
Eve didn’t think the glitters at her ears, her wrists, her neck, and her ankles were manmade. How much did those set you back, Vinnie old pal? she wondered.
“Hello.” Liza gave a pouty little smile and fluffed her hair.
“Sorry to interrupt your day,” Eve said pleasantly. “I’d hoped to confer with Vince over a few auction details. The NYPSD wants to be certain Ms. Lane’s event goes smoothly.”
Liza stifled a yawn. “I’ll be glad when it’s over. It’s all anyone wants to talk about.”
“It must be tedious for you.”
“Well, it is. If that’s all you’re going to talk about, I think I’ll go out and do some shopping.”
“Sorry to chase you off. This shouldn’t take very long,” Eve said.
“Why don’t I meet you?” Obviously anxious to placate, Vince moved to her, ran his hands up her arms. “Let’s say twelve-thirty at Rendezvous. We’ll have lunch.”
“Maybe.” The corners of her mouth turned up, and she trailed a finger down the middle of his chest. “You know how I love to be with you, baby doll. Don’t be late.”
“I won’t.”
She picked up a handbag from the table by the door, blew Lane kisses, and strolled out.
“All the business and security and publicity work over the past few days has been boring for her,” Lane said. “She’s been awfully patient.”
“Yeah, a real trooper.” Eve wandered to one of the three antique sofas, sat on an arm of silk. “You’re very involved with the auction, and your mother’s foundation. Takes up a lot of your time.”
“That it does. But it’s worth it.”
“No problem seeing her chuck a billion dollars out the window?”
“All for a good cause,” he said cheerfully. “I couldn’t be more proud of her.”
“Really? Even when you’re flat broke and siphoning off loans for debts from her friends?” She waited a beat while his body jerked. “Wow, Vince, you’re a hell of a sport.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, and I find your comments in very bad taste.”
“I find plots to steal from family and charity in very bad taste. I find little skunks who’re too lazy to work for a living in very bad taste. But most of all, I find murder in very bad taste. Your guy missed his target this morning, by the way. You want to make sure he doesn’t collect the rest of his fee on that portion of the contract.”
“I want you to leave.” He pointed a finger at the door in what would have been a dramatic gesture if his arm hadn’t trembled. “I want you to get out. I intend