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He paused to consider his beer again. “She paid far too high a price for it. If and when you have more photos, I’ll look at them.”
“He fished in your pool, and The Sanctuary’s. Where was your flop during this period?”
“We had three on rotation that year, year and a half. As I assumed you’d ask, I’ve noted them down.” He took a piece of paper out of his pocket, handed it to her. “All three buildings have been renovated and are occupied now, but at the time they were useful.”
“Where’s your flop now?”
He smiled a little. “I won’t tell you the truth, and find myself reluctant to lie to you. So.” He gave a small, elegant shrug, sipped his beer. “If you need to talk to me again, Mavis knows how to contact me.”
Eve sat back, considered. She wouldn’t break her word to Mavis and run him in on the stream of charges that came to mind. And for now, he might be useful.
“The other two in Shelby’s crew. What do you know about them?”
“The boy, nothing. DeLonna . . .” He hesitated. “She’s alive and well.”
“I need to talk to her.”
“It’s awkward. I’ll contact her, ask her to contact you. I can’t do more without betraying her.”
“She’s very likely a material witness in multiple homicides.”
“I very much doubt that, or she’d have said or done something. She loved Shelby, and Mikki. But I give you my word I’ll contact her tonight, and I’ll convince her to talk to you.”
“Your word.”
“Is good, which is why I rarely give it. How did they die? How did he—”
“I can’t tell you at this time.” She slid out of the booth again, hated that she saw genuine grief on his face. “But when I
can, I will.”
“Thank you.”
“If I find out you had anything to do with it, the wrath of God has nothing on mine.”
“I hope that’s true. I hope when you find him, the wrath of a thousand gods comes down on him.”
She turned to go, scowled when Roarke held out a hand to him. “It was good to meet you.”
“And you. Both of you.”
Eve kept her silence until they were out in the cold and the wind. “You’re freaking polite.”
“No reason for me to be otherwise.”
“You liked him.”
“I didn’t dislike him,” Roarke qualified, as he grabbed her hand and walked toward the car.
“He conceals girls from the authorities, teaches them to distrust, disrespect, and break the law, cheat people, steal from people when they should be . . .” She waved her free hand. “In school and whatever.”
“They should be in school and whatever,” he agreed. “They shouldn’t be used as a punching bag, or worse, by a parent. They shouldn’t be neglected and left to fend for themselves or exposed to violence, illegals, indiscriminate sex, and everything else they’d be exposed to in a bloody awful home.”
He opened the car door for her. After one fulminating glare, she got inside.
“And just how many of the girls who’ve run through his system,” she began the minute Roarke slid behind the wheel, “are in a cage, or dead, or working the streets because of the lifestyle he promoted?”
“I expect some are, and likely would have been with or without him. I also know at least one who’s happy, successful, has a family, and a very fine life.”
