Brotherhood in Death

“Dallas. Hi, Peabody.”

“Hey, Gillian. I didn’t know you were in town.”

“I came in last night. I had a feeling, something off, and contacted my mother. So here I am.”

“It’s nice to see you, even given.”

Gillian smiled at Peabody, stepped back. “The same for you. Mom and Dad are in the living room. This is hard on him, so don’t you be.”

“We were figuring on hauling him down to Central in restraints where we keep the saps and rubber hoses.”

Gillian just gave Eve a cool stare with her mother’s eyes. “Let me take your coats.”

She did her hostess duty, then led them in.

They’d lit a fire, and the Miras sat together on the sofa in the pretty room much as they had at the crime scene. He looked tired, Eve thought, and felt a pang of guilt knowing she would add to the strain.

“Cops in the house,” Gillian said, but lightly, before she walked over to sit on the arm of the sofa by her father.

United front.

“We’re sorry, Mr. Mira,” Eve began, “for your loss.”

“Thank you. Edward and I . . . our relationship wasn’t what it had been, but I remember the boy he was. The boys we were together. It was a hard death?”

He looked at her with those kind green eyes. She wanted to lie to him, give him that much. But she couldn’t spare him. “Yes, it was.”

“It’s odd, even with Charlotte’s work, and knowing what people can and will do to people, you never expect it to happen to one of your own. Despite our differences, Edward was my family. You’ve spoken to Mandy?”

“We were just there.”

“She won’t answer her ’link,” Mira explained. “Dennis is concerned about her.”

“She . . .” How to put it? Eve wondered.

“Her personal security was contacting her children,” Peabody put in.

“That’s good.” He patted Gillian’s knee. “They’re a comfort. I know she’s a difficult woman. You’re too polite to say.”

“I’m not all that polite,” Eve said, making him laugh, just a little.

“I’ll bet you haven’t had lunch.”

The segue threw Eve off balance. “We aren’t really—”

“You have to eat. I’m going to make sandwiches.”

“Mr. Mira, I’m sorry, but we need to ask you some questions. I need to interview you, on the record. I need to read you your rights.”

“You’re not treating him like a suspect.” Gillian shoved off the arm of the sofa, an arrow yanked from the quiver.

“Gillian, I explained this to you.” Mira rubbed Dennis’s thigh, rose. “It’s procedure, and has to be done.”

“I don’t care about procedure.”

“I have to,” Eve said, then looked at Dennis. “I’m sorry. I have to.”

“Of course you do. But you also need to eat. We can do this in the kitchen while I make sandwiches.”

“Dad, I made soup, remember?”

“That’s right, of course, that’s right.” He got to his feet in his baggy green cardigan and tousled hair. “Gilly makes wonderful soup. It’s potato leek, isn’t it?”

“Chicken and rice.”

“That’s right. Potato leek was last time. Soup’s a comfort,” he said to Eve. “We could all use it.”

Eve couldn’t say no, just couldn’t make herself draw the hard line with him. So she ended up in the big kitchen with the comfort of soup scenting the air, sitting across from him in the breakfast nook with the winter sun eking pale through the windows.

“You eat a bit first, both of you,” he said when Gillian set bowls in front of them. “Charlie tells me that nice young policeman was promoted today.”

“Trueheart. He got his detective’s shield.”

“Good for him. He’s a nice young man. Bright, I take it?”

“He is. He’s a good cop.” She ate because it was there. “It’s nice soup.”

“It really is.” Peabody glanced at Gillian. “The sage really makes it. My granny always uses sage in hers.”

“You like to cook?”

“Bake mostly, when I have time. It’s relaxing.”

Eve let the small talk circle around her. She should cut it off. She shouldn’t be cozied up here in the kitchen with soup and conversation. She should—

Dennis reached over, patted her hand. “You mustn’t worry. You mustn’t worry about doing your job. I want to help you find whoever gave Edward a hard death.”

“Mr. Mira, you’re not a suspect. Nobody thinks you had anything to do with this. But we have to go through this, and some of the questions I have to ask are going to be pointed, they’re going to feel hard and intimidating. I’m sorry.”

“There’s no need to be sorry. You go ahead—but finish your soup first.” He shifted to Peabody. “And how is your young man? I like him quite a lot. He’s so colorful.”

“Yeah, he is. He’s great.”

Eve finished her soup, caught Mira’s eye and the quiet gratitude in it. So maybe it had been the right thing, just to give Mr. Mira time to settle.

“I’m going to make hot chocolate,” Dennis announced. “You like my hot chocolate,” he said to Eve.

“Who wouldn’t, but—”

“You and Delia— You like hot chocolate?”

“It’s a big weakness of mine, and now I know why I didn’t get any cake earlier.”

“It’s better than cake.” He winked at her, tugging hard on Eve’s heart. “You and Delia come sit at the counter while I make it. It’ll keep my hands busy while you interview me. And, Charlie, you and Gillian sit right there. Gilly, you behave.”

“Maybe.”

He chuckled as he rose.