The In Death Collection Books 26-29 - J.D. Robb [37]
He glanced toward the bedroom where Louise, presumably, ate her breakfast in bed. “As we got to know each other over the course of time, I understood that her husband wasn’t as interested in literature and so forth as he was in sports. So I could offer her that.”
“Did she talk about her husband?”
“Not a great deal. It…spoils the mood. She might mention, usually afterward, when we were talking over a drink or coffee, that they were going on a trip, or having a dinner party, that sort of thing.”
“How did she feel about him, Charles? You’d know.”
“When she spoke of him, she spoke warmly, or casually, the way you do when someone’s an intricate part of your life. I remember she’d been shopping once before an appointment and showed me a shirt she’d picked up for him. She said how handsome he’d look in it.”
“Sexually, what was she after?”
“She liked to be tended to. She liked the lights off—a few candles were fine, but if we met during the day, which was most usual, the drapes had to be closed.”
“You’d classify her as inhibited?”
“Traditional. Very. And maybe a bit self-involved. As I said, she wanted to be tended to. She wasn’t as interested in touching as much as being touched. I can say that I noticed in the last few appointments something was off. She was distracted, edgy. She asked me if I ever went to clients’ homes—married clients. And if I knew other LCs who did, was it unusual to pay in cash. And she asked if I had a name and address of a client, if I could find the LC hired to go there.”
“What did you tell her?”
“That I only accepted home appointments from married clients if both spouses agreed, but that others have different policies in that area. Cash always works,” he added with a smile. “And that it would be difficult with only a name and address to locate the LC booked. Considering the number of agencies, freelancers, levels, it wouldn’t be an easy task.”
“Had she tried to contact you since her husband’s death?”
“No.”
“When’s your next appointment?”
“A week from Wednesday. She canceled our last appointment as she was getting ready for her trip. Two o’clock, at the Blackmore again.”
“Okay. If she doesn’t contact to cancel, I’d like you to keep it.”
He let out a sigh that had Eve’s brows drawing together.
“All right.”
“Problem with that?”
“No. No, no problem. I’m sorry, but if there’s more, can we do it later? I actually have an appointment shortly.”
“That’s fine. That’s it for now anyway.”
“Charles,” Peabody said as they got to their feet. “Is something wrong?”
“No, nothing. Just a lot on my mind. We should all have dinner soon. The six of us.”
“That’d be great. You know you could tag me anytime, if you need to talk about anything.”
This time when he smiled, it hit his eyes, too. “I know.” He cupped Peabody’s chin, lowered his lips to hers. “You tell McNab I said he’s a lucky man.”
Rather than climb right into the car, Peabody paced the sidewalk outside Charles’s building. “Why does he seem so worried? Like something’s balled up in his belly?”
“I don’t know, but that’s a good description.”
“It can’t be about the case, Dallas. It’s not about Anders. If Charles knew something—”
“No, it’s not about the case. I caught it from him last night before I brought up Anders.”
“Maybe he’s sick.” Worry and distress hitched through the words. “I know how carefully LCs are screened, especially top-levels like Charles, but what if—”
“Peabody, there’s nothing we can do about this. And if he was sick, Louise would know.”
“You’re right. You’re right. It’s just…I love him, you know? Not like love—McNab love, but—”
“I get it. I’ve got a soft spot, too. You can’t know everything there is to know about a friend, or fix every problem. It’s tough knowing they’ve got one, but…”
She trailed off, narrowed eyes staring at a middle distance.
“What?”
“Just thinking of friends. We’ve got time to drop in on the