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“Dallas? Dallas?” The woman had enormous eyes of bitter-chocolate brown and hair nearly the same color piled in a knot on top of her head. At the name, the eyes went big as planets. “Roarke? Dallas? I saw the vid, I listened to the book. Oh my sweet Jesus. Mel! Mel! Get out here. Something terrible’s happened to the Miras.”
“Mrs. Robarts, calm down. The Miras are fine.”
“You’re Homicide,” Sila snapped, pulling at the neck of a sweatshirt bearing her company’s logo. “You think I don’t know that?” she demanded as footsteps pounded in from the rear of the apartment. “You work with Miss Charlotte.”
“What happened to them?” The man who ran in moved fast for a big guy. He had to be two-fifty spread over about six foot two. An Arena Ball player’s build. “Was there an accident?”
“I think they were murdered!”
“What? What?” The big guy grabbed his hysterical wife, and looked about to join her in the wailing parade. “Oh my God. My God! How—”
“Quiet!” Eve boomed it over the hysteria. “Both the Miras are fine, and probably sitting down eating dinner and maybe having a really big drink. Now everybody just calm the hell down, and sit the hell down!”
Tears rolled out of those bitter-chocolate eyes. “They’re all right? You swear it?”
“If it’ll stop the madness I’ll sign an oath on it in my own blood.”
“Okay, sorry.” She swiped at her cheeks. “Sorry, Mel.”
“What the hell, Sila?”
“It’s Dallas and Roarke.”
“Dallas and... somebody’s dead.”
“A lot of people are dead,” Eve pointed out. “But none of them are Charlotte and/or Dennis Mira.”
“I got scared, that’s all.” Sila sniffled. “I got so scared. They’re family.”
“Then understand they’re mine, too.”
“Mr. Dennis speaks highly of you. He came by when I was cleaning the big house, and listening to the book. The Icove book. I asked if he knew you, seeing as you worked with Miss Charlotte, and he said he did, and you were good, caring people. And courageous. I just love that man.”
“Okay.” Eve could relate. “He’s okay.”
“I’m going to get you a glass of wine,” Mel said to his wife. “I can get you some wine,” he added to Eve and Roarke.
“Thanks, but on duty.”
“I’m not,” Roarke said cheerfully, “and I’d love a glass of wine.”
“I can get you something else, Miss Dallas. Coffee, tea maybe. Got Pepsi.”
“Pepsi?” Sila narrowed her still damp eyes. “Melville Robarts, you said you were cutting that out.”
The big man hunched his shoulders like a small boy caught swiping cookies. “Maybe there’s a stray tube or two around.”
“I’ll take it,” Eve said to settle the matter. “It’s Lieutenant. You work for Dennis Mira, clean his grandfather’s house.”
“Yeah, that’s right. Look, let’s sit down, like you said.”
Sila moved off into the living area, a comfortable space and so clean it nearly sparkled, sank into a high-backed chair of bold blue.
“My mama did for Judge Mira and Miss Gwen almost as long as I can remember. When I got old enough, I’d help out sometimes. Miss Gwen, she passed. So sudden, too, and the judge, he just lost his heart, and he passed some months after. My mama still misses them. So do I.”
“Me, too.” Mel came in with a tray holding three glasses of red wine and one of iced Pepsi. “I did work for them around the house when they needed. That’s how I first met Sila—we were sixteen. Is there trouble, Miss—Lieutenant Dallas?”
“There’s trouble. Mr. Mira is fine,” she said again, “but he was attacked earlier this evening, in his grandfather’s house.”
