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He laughed. “I like the order of this evening’s menu. Here, have this first.”
He walked to his closet, brought back a box wrapped in Valentine red, topped with a white silk bow.
“Oh, man.”
“I know, yes. A gift.” His lips twitched in amusement. “So annoying. Open it anyway.”
She lifted the lid, found another box inside of dull gold. Nestled in it on red velvet was a long, slim bottle.
She’d expected jewelry, it was his habit to buy her glitters. And she supposed he had as—knowing him—the stones encrusted on the bottle wouldn’t be glass. Who would buy a bottle decorated with diamonds and rubies except Roarke?
She lifted it, studied the pale gold liquid inside. “Magic potion?”
“It may be. Scent. Yours. Made it for you—your skin, your style, your preferences. Here.” He took it, lifted the ruby stopper, then dabbed some on her wrist himself. “See what you think.”
She sniffed, frowned, sniffed again. It was subtle, and it wasn’t frilly. Wasn’t what she thought of as flower juice or come-nail-me-against-the-nearest-wall musk.
“And?”
“It’s nice. More—I guess, it’s one more thing that proves you know me.” To please him, she stroked a little on her throat. “You know the bottle’s over the top, right?”
“Naturally. The diamonds are from the Forty-seventh Street heist.”
“Yeah?” The idea of it amused and delighted her. “That’s fairly frosty.” She took the bottle to her dresser, high enough that Galahad couldn’t leap with the pudge he carried. Then she came back and offered her neck for a sniff. “And?”
“Perfectly you.” He tugged on her hair to lower her face for a kiss. “My one and only Valentine.”
“Save that sloppy talk for later. I have to get moving. Peabody will be here any minute, or risk having her ass kicked.”
“Should we say dinner at eight, unless work intervenes?”
“Eight. I’ll try to make sure to wrap up whatever I can wrap up by seven-thirty.”
Though she’d read Eve’s report as ordered before she arrived, Peabody was still resistant to the idea of, as she put it, a kiddie killer.
“Okay, I know, at some of the rougher schools, teachers and other students have been threatened or attacked. Stickers, fists, hell, kitchen utensils. But those are hard-line situations and most often involve hard-line kids.”
“So because this one wears a nice uniform and lives in a penthouse, she’s immune.”
“No, but it’s a different foundation. And we’re talking about revenge crimes, impulse violence or innate violent tendencies. In this case, they’re premeditated and coolly executed without any clear-cut motive.”
“Motive will come.”
“Dallas, I went through Foster’s records. I went through Williams’s records. There were a handful of disciplinary actions and/or parental conferences due to behavior, slipping grades, chronic lateness on assignments and that sort of thing. But not one of them involved Rayleen Straffo. Her grades are stellar, her deportment evaluations the same. She’s top of the class.”
“Maybe she doctored them.”
“Man, you’ve got it in for her.” Immediately, Peabody winced. “I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. I just can’t get there with you. I just don’t see it. I sure don’t feel it.”
“Let’s follow through on these interviews today. Maybe one of us will change her mind.”
The in-dash ’link signaled as Eve pulled to the curb in front of the building where Melodie Branch lived.
“Dallas.”
“Eve, I’ve read your report.” Mira’s face was knitted with concern. “We need to discuss this. At length.”
“Figured that. This isn’t a good time. I’m about to do a follow-up with a wit.”
