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Even when in a mating rut? I found that hard to believe, but then again, he was a politician. They were a breed far different from the rest of us. "What function did he attend last night?"
"It was at the Crystal Palace in St. Kilda. Some charity fund-raiser he was asked to speak at."
"Do you know who his date was?"
Her snort was disparaging. For the first time, I saw something more than sorrow in her face. "Alana Burns. She was one of the Toorak Trollops."
Amusement twitched my lips. No need to ask Rosy what she thought of the "Trollops," because it was right there in the tartness of her voice. "Who are?"
She waved a hand, coming perilously close to knocking over her coffee. I reached forward and slid it out of the way again. "They're a dozen or so single or divorced Toorak ladies who make themselves available to attend all the best functions. With only the best-bred men, of course."
"So they're high-priced hookers?"
She frowned. "No. Money doesn't change hands, as far as I know. Can you imagine the scandal that would have caused Mr. James? No, they're just well-bred, well-connected sluts, pure and simple."
I smiled, but I had to wonder if she'd voiced such sentiments to her boss. Somehow, I suspected not. "And did he go out with Alana often?"
"Quite a few times, although I think he was getting a little tired of her."
I took a sip of coffee, then asked, "Why?"
She hesitated. "He generally preferred to keep things casual."
And if Alana had started making demands and had gotten the wrong reaction, it might just explain his murder. Dumped women didn't always resort to chocolate. Some of them got angry - and others got even. "How did he usually dump his lovers?"
"With flowers the next day. I usually order them, which is how I knew he was getting tired of Alana. He asked me to check the prices on the roses."
Well, at least he didn't dump her with daffodils. "But they went out last night?"
"Yes. I rang her that afternoon to confirm the date, as I usually do. She was in a complete snit." Rosy sniffed. "Most of those women think they're too good to be dealing with the common folk."
And maybe the Trollops weren't the only ones with a chip on their shoulders. "Was Alana the first Trollop your boss dated?"
"No." She wrapped her hands around the coffee again and slid it toward her. "I kept telling him they'd get him into trouble one day, but he liked the contacts they could give him."
"Who else did he date, then?"
"There were several of them. He was with one for about a year, but she got very clingy and he called it off."
Meaning she probably wanted a commitment. Poor woman. I wondered whether she'd received the roses, or if she'd simply been shown the door. "What was her name?"
She frowned. "Cherry something. It'll be in the files - although I believe she's changed address, so those details won't be right. It's filed under T."
This time, my grin broke free. Rosy definitely had more fire in her than first appeared. "Are Alana's details there, too? I need to speak to her."
"Yes."
"Is there anything else you can tell me? Anything that might be useful?"
I reached out telepathically as I asked the question and linked lightly to Rosy's mind. Her thoughts were a confusion of sadness and grief for her boss as well as worry about her age and whether she'd actually find another job. I couldn't find anything resembling lies or half-truths, or anything she was concealing. So I gently withdrew.
She took a sip of coffee, then frowned. "Like what?"
"Well, had he been sick recently? Had he received any threats? Had anything unusual happened in the last week or so?"
"No. To all of that."
"Then for the moment, there isn't much more you can help me with." I waved the cop back over, then added, "I'll get the officer to take you home, if you like."
