The In Death Collection Books 6-10 - J. D. Robb [289]
It wouldn’t be hard to track Ledo down, she decided, and to coax him—in the same manner she’d used with her equipment if necessary—to chat.
But Mira came first. Gathering up what she would need for both interviews, Eve started out of her office. She tagged Peabody en route and ordered her aide to meet her in the garage at the vehicle in one hour.
• • •
Mira’s office might have been a clearinghouse for emotional and mental problems. It might have been a center for the dissemination, examination, and analysis of the criminal mind, but it was always soothing, elegant, and classy.
Eve had never worked out how it could be both. Or how the doctor herself could work day after day with the worst that society spat out and still maintain her calm, unruffled poise.
Eve considered her the only genuine and complete lady she knew.
She was a trim woman with sable-colored hair waving back from a quietly lovely face. She favored slim, softly colored suits and such classic ornamentations as a single strand of pearls.
She wore one today, with discreet pearl drops at her ears, to accessorize a collarless suit in pale pine green. As usual, she gestured Eve to one of her scoop-shaped chairs and ordered tea from her AutoChef.
“How are you, Eve?”
“Okay.” Eve always had to remember to change gears when meeting with Mira. The atmosphere, the woman, the attitude didn’t allow her to dive straight into business. The little things mattered to Mira. And, over time, Mira had come to matter to Eve. She accepted the tea she would pretend to drink. “Ah, how was your vacation?”
Mira smiled, pleased Eve remembered she’d been away for a few days, and had thought to ask. “It was marvelous. Nothing revitalizes body and soul quite so much as a week at a spa. I was rubbed, scrubbed, polished, and pampered.” She laughed and sipped her tea. “You’d have hated every minute of it.”
Mira crossed her legs, balancing her delicate cup and saucer one-handed with a casual grace Eve decided some women were simply born with. The feminine floral china always made her feel clumsy.
“Eve, I’ve heard about this difficulty you’re having with one of the uniforms. I’m sorry for it.”
“It doesn’t amount to anything,” Eve said, then breathed a sigh. This was, after all, Mira. “It pissed me off. She’s a sloppy cop with an attitude, and now she’s put a blotch on my record.”
“I know how much that record means to you.” Mira leaned forward, touched her hand to Eve’s. “You should know that the higher you rise and the more your reputation shines, the more a certain type of person will want to tarnish it. This won’t. I can’t say much, as it’s privileged, but I will tell you that this particular officer has a reputation for frivolous complaints and is not taken seriously in most cases.”
Eve’s gaze sharpened. “You’ve tested her?”
Inclining her head, Mira lifted a brow. “I can’t comment on that.” But she made certain Eve knew the answer was affirmative. “I simply want, as a friend and a colleague, to offer you my complete support. Now . . .” She sat back again, sipped her tea again. “On to your case.”
Eve brooded for a minute before reminding herself that her personal business couldn’t interfere with the job. “The killer has to be trained, and highly skilled, in laser surgery and organ removal.”
“Yes, I read Dr. Morris’s conclusions and agree. This doesn’t, however, mean you’re looking for a member of the medical community.” She held up a finger before Eve could protest. “He could be retired or he could have, as many, many surgeons do, burnt out. Quite obviously he’s lost his way, or he would never have violated the most sacred of oaths and taken a life. Whether or not he’s licensed and practicing, I can’t tell you.”
“But you agree that if not now, at one time he was.”
“Yes. Undoubtedly, based on your findings at scene and Morris’s postmortem, you’re looking for someone with specific skills that require years