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“Attacked? In the house?” Once again those dark eyes narrowed. “The senator went at him, didn’t he? Couldn’t push Mr. Dennis around with words, so he went at him. Senator Edward Mira. He’s Mr. Dennis’s cousin, though you wouldn’t know they shared blood. Different as wet to dry.”
“Why would you think Edward Mira would attack Mr. Mira?”
“Because that man wants his own way, in everything. Nothing but a bully, and always was, if you ask me. I don’t think much of him or his snooty wife. They have nice kids, though. Good people, and the kids’ kids are as sweet as cherry pie. Did you arrest him?”
“No. He didn’t attack Mr. Mira, and was, in fact, attacked himself. And he’s missing.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Mr. Mira walked in on the attack and was knocked unconscious. When he came to, Edward Mira was gone, as were the attackers.”
Sila took a gulp of wine, breathed out hard. “I’m sorry for what I said about him—it’s the truth, but I’m sorry. Was someone trying to rob them? They’ve got really good security on that house. I never worried a minute about being there alone or with Mama or my girl.”
“When were you there last?”
“Just today, from about seven-thirty to about two-thirty. My daughter and I cleaned there today, and my mama came, too. She can’t clean like she used to, but she loves that house. We went over bright an’ early, gave it top to bottom—that’s once a month rotation. I swear to you, we set the alarms and the locks when we finished up.”
“Did anyone come to the door?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Have you noticed anyone, today or otherwise, who shouldn’t be in the neighborhood? You know what I mean.”
“Yes, I do, and no, I haven’t. It’s a nice neighborhood. A few retired folks like the judge, and professionals, mostly. Doctors and lawyers and the like. Mr. Dennis came by every few weeks, just to say hello and spend some time in the house.”
“How about the senator?”
Her nose wrinkled. “More lately, with dollar signs in his eyes.”
“Sila.”
“I can’t help it. He took some of the furniture—had it taken,” she corrected, “but Mr. Dennis said it was left to him and it was all right. I didn’t tell Mr. Dennis how I overheard the senator talking on his ’link about appraisals for the pieces he took. It would have hurt Mr. Dennis’s feelings to know what his grandparents loved was being sold to strangers.”
Eve asked more questions, digging into what she already sensed was fallow ground. When they rose to leave, Sila touched her arm.
“I want to contact Mr. Dennis, just want to hear his voice. I don’t think I can settle down until I do. Is that all right?”
“Sure.” Eve hesitated. “Give this about a week, but if you get a chance, maybe you could go back over there, clean the study. Crime Scene leaves dust.”
“You can bet I will.”
Eve brooded on their way uptown, then turned to Roarke.
“Selling furniture, wanting to sell the house. Some people are just greedy, but maybe you can take a good look at his finances. It could be gambling debts, blackmail over an affair. Maybe he doesn’t just want to sell. Maybe he needs to sell.”
“Permission to wiggle my fingers in someone else’s finances is always delightful. Permission in this case, a veritable treat.”
“You really don’t like him.”
“Not in the least.”
“Could he force Mr. Mira to sell?”
Smoothly, Roarke maneuvered around a mini, fishtailing on the slick streets. “I don’t know the particulars, but if they own equal shares, I think it would be a considerable battle. Dennis could buy Edward out.”
“Sure, if he has ten million lying around gathering dust.”
“Ten million doesn’t gather dust, it—if used well—makes more millions. We could easily lend him what he’d need. Family,” Roarke added when Eve stared at him.
