Page 29 of Framed in Death (In Death #61)

After dinner, Roarke changed from his ruler-of-a-business-empire suit into casual pants and shirt. When he came back, Eve eyed the black leather jacket he’d added.

“You’re wearing the jacket because you’re carrying.”

“We’re going to Times Square in the area of porn theaters and sex shops. So I’m carrying, yes.”

She only shrugged as they started out. “Like you never trolled Times Square in the area of porn theaters and sex shops before tonight.”

“By the time I came to New York, I didn’t have a need to resort to picking pockets.”

“It wouldn’t have been for need.”

Amused, he gave her a cheerful one-arm hug.

“Ah, well, she knows me. If I did so for fun, I’d choose an area where the take would be more profitable. Or at least more challenging.”

He crossed to the door. “No doubt if I’d come across you in your uniform, I’d have had other things in mind than your pockets.”

She repeated her side-eye. “You think I wouldn’t have made you as a street thief, Ace?”

“We’ll never know, will we now?”

She stepped out, frowned at the sexy two-seater in screaming red. “That’s not my vehicle.”

“Would you like it?” Taking her hand, he led her to it.

She just shook her head and got in.

“It’s a new model,” Roarke told her, and started the engine with its lion’s roar. “One that will hit the global market next week.”

“What’s new?”

“Well now, there’s this. Sky mode.” He pointed up.

She looked, and saw the sky through the now-transparent roof.

“And this.”

The car didn’t just shift to vertical. It soared so they were down the drive and over the gates in seconds flat.

“Okay, I’m giving you this and this. Sky mode’s pretty damn frosty, and this car moves.”

He landed on the street again as smooth as a man spreading butter on warm bread.

“The battery’s the size of my hand, and will fully auto-charge in under seven minutes. We’ve been working on that for near to three years. She has all the safety features and anti-theft shields of your DLE. And full luxury options.”

“In a smaller, sexier package.”

“We have a more sedate sedan model, a coupe, and an all-terrain, as well as a mini. We’ll introduce vans and trucks after the first of the year.”

“That should cover it. How many of those are in the garage back home?”

“Just this and an AT.”

“How about limos and those big party buses?”

He glanced over with a smile. “In design at the moment.”

“It’s a wonder you have time to talk to a couple of street LCs strolling Times Square.”

Reaching over, he rubbed a hand over hers. “A man needs his entertainment.”

“Work is your entertainment.”

“True enough. Aren’t I the fortunate one?”

“Stay fortunate and find a lot for this thing. It’s going to attract every jacker or booster in a five-mile radius. With the anti-theft shields, I’m going to end up with a pile of dazed thieves on the street and sidewalk.”

She took a breath. “Which serves them right, but sticks me with a mountain of paperwork.”

“I can personally attest vehicles can be boosted from car parks. Parking lots,” he corrected.

“Not as easily as on the street.” She looked at him, and his smile. “At least for boosters who don’t end up owning the car, and the company that made it.”

“All right then.”

When he turned into the underground parking of a hotel, and the barricade lifted, she gave him one more look.

“Your hotel.”

“Which caters largely to tourists who, for whatever reason, enjoy the madness of Times Square.”

Another barricade lifted when he turned toward a reserved slot.

When she got out, Eve noted the roof now held screaming red, and the windows had gone dark and opaque.

“So no one can see personal items left inside.” She nodded. “Pretty slick.”

He took her hand. “You should have one. In cop blue.”

“Where would I drive something like that?”

“Anywhere you like.”

She had to admit, she favored a vehicle that moved. But practicalities ruled.

“The DLE suits me all the way. You knew that when you had it made.”

“I did, and it does.”

They walked out to what Roarke rightfully called the madness.

“While I didn’t scope this area for marks, even for the entertainment, did you ever work the beat here back in your uniform days?”

“No, and thank God. Backed up a few calls, sure, but never worked Times Square on the regular beat.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever asked you. Where did you meet Mavis?”

“Downtown, just off Broadway. Pretty sure. And you know what? She was nothing like the one I busted today. That one screamed, whined, tried to clock me. When I busted Mavis, she was like: ‘Hey, got me. You’re really good at this. How long have you been on the job? I like your hair.’ I’m ‘You’re under arrest,’ and reading her rights.

You know, to remain silent. She really just didn’t.

“There’s nobody like her.”

“There isn’t, no. And she recognized you.”

“Sure, she might’ve seen me in her territory.” She started to shrug, then realized what he meant.

“You mean in an Irish woo-woo way.”

“I do.”

“Maybe.”

Because she had to admit there’d been… just something there. On both sides.

“After she got sprung, she hunted me up, told me she had a gig singing at… Not the Blue Squirrel, not then. Ah, Artie’s Den, Marty’s Den—something. It’s gone now anyway. It made the Blue Squirrel look like a ballroom. I just couldn’t shake her off. I don’t know why I finally went.”

As they walked, he skimmed a hand over her hair. “You recognized her.”

“Maybe. That’s the porn place up on the right. I’m looking for Luce and Ansel. Naked guy only had first names, and there’s no telling if those are their legal names anyhow.”

She stopped by the first LC she spotted. The woman, with a long fall of curly hair as red as Roarke’s new toy and a trailing vine of flowers down both bare arms, cocked a hip.

“Look, Handsome might be good for business, but cops aren’t. I’m licensed, and I’m working.”

“Me, too, so let’s make it quick. Bobby Ren. Did you know him?”

“Everybody working the Square knows Bobby, and what happened to him. Why aren’t you out catching who killed him instead of hassling me?”

“That’s what I’m trying to do. Did you see Bobby last night?”

“Before work. He was wolfing down a burger up the block. Me, I eat light and at home before work. I had a good night. Not a lot of time for socializing. I liked Bobby. Don’t know any who didn’t.”

“Do you know Luce and Ansel?”

“Yeah, yeah. Come on, you’re costing me.”

Roarke gave her a fifty.

“Okay then, handsome and classy buys some time. They stroll, like literally. This block, up the next, down the next. Cover three or four easy most nights.”

“What do they look like?”

“Depends. Luce has a shit-ton of wigs…”

Frowning, she trailed off, then nodded.

“No, wait, I saw her before. She’s got the short blond going, with the little petal dress. If she had wings, she’d be a fairy. Little white girl, looks like she wouldn’t know a cock from an elbow.”

“Ansel?”

“Haven’t seen him yet. Black guy, smooth looks. Usually wears his hair in twists and does the tips to match whatever he’s wearing.”

Pausing, she shifted, cocked her other hip.

“Look, they’re especially tight with Bobby. Like next thing to family. No way they’d do a thing to hurt him.”

“Maybe they saw him leave with whoever did. Thanks.”

When Eve turned her back, Roarke slipped the LC another fifty. “The streets can be hard.”

She slid it with the first into a slit pocket. “Like I said, you got class, Mr. Gorgeous.”

“I know you gave her more,” Eve said.

“But you didn’t see it, so no paperwork necessary.”

Eve questioned a couple more, got nothing new. Then spotted Luce.

She did look like a fairy in a short dress that looked to be made out of flower petals. With it she wore heeled booties in powder pink.

Eve cut her off, and palmed her badge.

“I’m twenty-one and ten months. I got my license.”

“This is about Bobby Ren.”

Instantly, baby-blue eyes flooded with tears.

“Here now.” Roarke spoke gently, put a hand on her arm. “Why don’t we move a bit out of the crowd?”

“Somebody killed him. They just killed him. He didn’t hurt anyone. Not never, not ever. He’s my friend, and they just killed him.”

“I want to find out who killed him. Did you see him last night?”

“Sure I did. Sure. He had his spot. I do the roam, so I saw him a few times. We were going to have breakfast after work, but he didn’t show. And I thought…”

The sobs came next, and so did a smooth-looking Black man in a gold vest and skin pants, with his dark twists tipped in gold.

“You better move along.”

Eve held up her badge. He gave it one snarly look.

“She’s not breaking any laws, so leave her alone.”

“It’s about Bobby.” On a fresh sob, Luce threw herself into Ansel’s arms.

“I’m primary on his murder investigation. You were friends.”

“Best friends,” Luce wailed into Ansel’s bare chest.

“Here now,” Roarke said again, and handed Luce a handkerchief. “There’s a café just up there. Why don’t we go in, talk a bit?”

“Bar right here,” Ansel said, and jerked his head toward it.

“Fine.” Eve decided it had to be better than the noise and the bodies on the street.

It wasn’t.

Music banged out of the speakers. Asses filled the stools at a bar that looked like it hadn’t been properly wiped down since Christmas.

But Roarke nudged them all to a booth. And as if hosting guests, asked politely, “What would you like?”

“I’ll take a brew.”

Luce sniffled. “A half Zombie. I wouldn’t do a whole one when I’m working.”

“I’ll see to it.”

Eyes narrowed, Ansel watched him go. “What kind of cop’s the slick guy?”

“Consultant. Civilian.”

“Figures.”

“When did you last see Bobby?”