The In Death Collection Books 16-20 - J. D. Robb [230]
“Had Leo with husband number two out of five. I’ll say she stays busy. So he’s got a number of step- and half-sibs. Father’s a theatrical broker. Same as Leo. Somebody who puts projects together, right?”
“Mmm. There you go. There are snippets of gossip here, too.” He was scanning quickly on this first pass, looking for buzz words. “Our man would’ve been six when his parents divorced, both having very public affairs during the marriage, and afterward. His mother also claimed the father was physically abusive. Then again, he claimed the same about her. Reading bits and pieces here, it sounds as if the household was a war zone.”
“So add a violent childhood and potential parental neglect. Mom’s a public figure, which makes her powerful. They probably had household staff, right? Maids, gardeners, full-time child care. You could see what you could dig up on who looked after little Leo while you display the Renquists for me.”
“Then I’m having another cookie.”
She glanced back as he spoke, ready to make some sarcastic comment. But the look of him, just the look of him sitting there at her desk, his hair shining from the shower, his eyes vivid and focused on the screen, had her heart tripping.
Ridiculous, it was ridiculous. She knew what he looked like, and he could still turn her inside out without even trying.
He must have sensed her stare as he shifted his eyes, met hers. An absurdly handsome man with a cookie in his hand. “I think I deserve it.”
Her mind blanked. “What?”
“The cookie,” he said and took a bite. Then he cocked his head. “What?”
“Nothing.” Vaguely embarrassed, she turned around again and ordered her heart to settle back down. Time, she told herself, to move to the next.
Renquist, Niles, she thought. Self-important, snotty bastard. But that was just personal opinion. Time for facts.
He’d been born in London, to a society deb who was half Brit, half Yank. Fourth cousin to the king on her mother’s side and tons of money on her father’s. His father was Lord Renquist, a member of Parliament and a staunch conservative. One younger sister who’d settled in Australia with husband number two.
Renquist had the full British educational package. The Stonebridge School to Eton, Eton to Edinburg University. Served two years in the RAF, as commissioned officer, rank of captain. Fluent in Italian and French and joined the diplomatic corps at age thirty, the same year as his marriage to Pamela Elizabeth Dysert.
She had a similar background and education. Well-placed parents, high-class education, which had included six years at a boarding school in Switzerland. She was an only child, and had considerable money of her own.
They were, Eve supposed, what people of that class would call a good match.
Eve remembered the little girl who’d come to the steps while she’d been questioning Pamela Renquist. The little pink-and-gold doll, Rose, who’d given the nanny’s hand one impatient tug before falling in.
No, not nanny. She’d called her the “au pair.” People of that ilk always had a fancy name for everything.
Wouldn’t Renquist have had an au pair growing up?
His schedule, daytime, wasn’t as flexible as the others. But would an assistant or admin question him if he told them to block out a couple of hours? She studied the ID image of Renquist on-screen, and doubted it.
No criminal on him or the wife. No little smudges as there had been with Breen and Fortney. Just a perfect picture, all polished and shiny.
She didn’t buy it.
He hadn’t married until thirty, she thought. A reasonable age, if you were going the “till death” route. Plus, a man with political ambitions did better in the field if he presented the package of wife and family. But unless he’d taken a vow of celibacy, there’d have been other relationships before the marriage.
And maybe after it.
It might be worth having a conversation with the current au pair. Who knew family dynamics better than live-in help?
She went back