Festive in Death by J. D. Robb

Author:J. D. Robb [Robb, J. D.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, azw3
Tags: Fiction, Mystery & Detective, General
ISBN: 9781101617274
Google: VDxBAwAAQBAJ
Amazon: 0399164448
Barnesnoble: 0399164448
Goodreads: 20821249
Publisher: Penguin
Published: 2014-09-09T05:00:00+00:00

Good morning, darling Eve. Summerset is currently in the Park View guest room.

“Great. Where the hell is that?”

Before Roarke could answer, the computer continued in smooth tones.

The Park View is located here.

The little screen displayed a floor plan with a red dot pulsing in one of the rooms.

“The elevator would take you directly there if you request it,” Roarke pointed out.

There was more chance Summerset would have moved on if she hoofed it. So she stalled. “Do all the guest rooms have names?”

“It’s a simple way to organize them. Would you like a list?”

“No. How many are there?”

“More than enough.”

“Ha!” She pointed at him. “Even you don’t know.”

“The number can vary as some of the salons, the sitting rooms, even entertainment areas can be utilized as guest rooms, if needed. Shouldn’t you be on your way?”

“I’m going.” She shoved her hands in her pockets. “I’ll be back in plenty of time to do whatever.”

“I’m sure you will. And I’ll wish you luck even though with it you might be longer.”

“Right.” She hesitated, but couldn’t find another reasonable excuse to stall. “If it’s longer, I’ll let you know.”

When he only smiled, she walked out. She detoured to her office, fiddled for a few minutes, grabbed the coat she’d left there, then followed the route from the screen map.

Everything smelled faintly of pine and cranberries—how was that even possible? Floors gleamed, art shone.

She found the bedroom, started to knock. Stopped herself. It was her house, too, she reminded herself, and opened the door.

Easy to see how it got its name as windows framed with shimmering drapes opened to a view of the great park.

The bed struck her as sort of regal with a lot of deep carving on dark wood, and more shimmering stuff flowing over it under a bold garden of pillows.

Galahad sprawled over the foot of the bed as if he lived there.

Summerset, in his habitual funereal black, set a large painted vase filled with bloodred lilies on a table, turned to her.

“Is there something you need, Lieutenant?”

“No. What are you doing in here? Are those flowers for the cat or what?”

“I’m sure he appreciates them, but no. You’re entertaining this evening, and there would be the possibility a guest might overindulge and be best served by staying the night.”

“That’s what Sober-Up’s for.”

“Regardless, hospitality decrees guest rooms are prepared for any eventuality. It’s called courtesy.”

“I’d say courtesy is not getting shit-faced drunk when you come to someone’s house to a party, but that’s just me. I have to go out for about an hour. I’ll be back to do the stuff.”

He arched one skinny eyebrow, made her teeth want to grind. “It’s police business. I’m the police. I’m not welshing on the deal. I’ll be back.”

“As you say.”

“That’s right, as I say. So . . . go fuss with other bedrooms for potential drunks.”

She walked out. She would not feel guilty for doing her job. She had a possible lead, and she had to follow up while it was hot, didn’t she? Damn right.

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