Tony had attended an end-of-the-year party at college, along with some of their friends. For some reason, Ashley had ended up leaving the party alone, and her beaten and stabbed body had been discovered early the next morning.
The murder weapon, a switchblade, had been traced back to a man named Daniel O’Roarke. He had attended the party, also, and witnesses described an altercation he’d had with Tony. The two of them had never gotten along, primarily because their families had been sworn enemies for over seventy years.
Eve hadn’t known about any of that until it had all come out at Daniel’s trial. By that time, Sean Gallagher, who had been the lead investigator on the case, had disappeared without a trace. The consensus at the time was that Daniel, or someone in the O’Roarke family, had murdered Sean and disposed of his body, either to keep further evidence from coming to light against Daniel, or for revenge.
Eve couldn’t imagine what it had been like for the Gallaghers over the years. The not knowing had to be agonizing, she thought, watching Tony.
His gaze was downcast. He stared into his drink with a brooding frown, and Eve wondered if he was thinking about his father, or Ashley, or both. Her murder and Sean’s disappearance were inseparable, and Eve felt regret prickle through her. She wished she’d never mentioned Tony’s father. Because her words had reanimated Ashley’s ghost.
A hand fell on her shoulder, and Eve started. She saw Vic D’Angelo’s reflection in the mirror over the bar, and reluctantly she rotated her stool to face him.
“You wouldn’t be trying to horn in on my date, would you, Gallagher?”
Tony glanced up. “You wouldn’t be trying to hit on my partner, would you, Vic?”
“So what if I am?”
“I might not like it, that’s all.” Tony shrugged, but there was no mistaking the warning in his voice.
D’Angelo turned back to Eve, draping a casual arm over her shoulders. “How about we find us a table?” he said against her ear, but loudly enough for Tony to overhear. “Something a little more private.”
“Tony and I were in the middle of a discussion,” she said.
Tony, still leaning casually on the bar, said, “How about you and I take a little stroll outside, Vic?”
“Tony,” Eve said, trying to defuse the situation. “It’s okay. I can take care of myself.”
“I’m sure you can, but what are partners for?” He met her gaze, his eyes so intensely blue that Eve felt her pulse quicken. It had been a long time since he’d looked at her like that, but she still felt the impact, even after all these years.
D’Angelo said coldly, “Lighten up, Cowboy. Like the lady says, she can take care of herself.”
Eve glanced up at him. “And you should know, right, Vic?”
His gaze turned icy. “There’s a word for women like you,” he growled.
Eve lifted her brows. “Smart? Discriminating?”
Over D’Angelo’s shoulder, she saw Tony grin. Their eyes met again in the mirror over the bar, and a thrill went through Eve. They’d shared something just then, she and Tony. Maybe it wasn’t exactly bonding, but it was close. And that it had come at Vic D’Angelo’s expense was particularly gratifying.
In the mirror, Eve saw Clare Foxx making her way through the crowd toward them. When she approached the bar, D’Angelo moved down to make room for her. “Lieutenant,” he said amiably.
“Vic,” Clare greeted him.
“Buy you a drink?”
“Boilermaker,” she said, glancing at Tony.
Clare had taken off her jacket, and the filmy gray blouse revealed a matching lace camisole underneath. She looked very sexy. Very available. Her cloying perfume was almost an overt invitation, and D’Angelo wasn’t about to pass it up. But Eve wasn’t at all sure the scent was for D’Angelo’s benefit.
When the shot glass and mug came, he handed her the former, saluting her with his own drink. “Here’s to fast cars and loose women.”
“Here’s to men with big…mouths,” Clare said, then tipped her head back and killed the whiskey.
D’Angelo handed her the beer chaser. “So what brings you down here, Lieutenant? I wouldn’t have thought this dump was exactly your style.”
Clare shrugged. “I don’t mind slumming once in a while.” She winked at Eve. “I just don’t like to make a habit of it. Isn’t that right, Tony?”
He glanced up. “Sure, Clare. Whatever you say.”
Eve got the distinct impression he hadn’t been listening to any of their conversation. His mind was a million miles away.
Clare was not a woman who liked to be ignored. She leaned toward Tony, touching a hand to his sleeve. “So how did the call go this afternoon?”
Before he could reply, Eve said quickly, “I told the lieutenant about the call you went out on earlier. The possible homicide down on Burley Street.”
His eyes narrowed. He had no idea what she was talking about. “Yeah. Right.”
“So how did it go?” Clare pressed. “When am I going to see your report?”
“Damnedest thing,” Tony said. “Turned out to be a false alarm.”
“A false alarm,” Clare said suspiciously.
“Yeah. I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow. Right now, though, I need to make a phone call.”
Eve saw him move toward the back of the bar, stopping to talk with a man in an expensive-looking suit and a woman with flaming red hair.
Eve recognized the woman immediately. Fiona Gallagher had been several years behind Eve in school, but her distinctive red hair and flamboyant personality had made her well known and liked even in the higher echelons at St. Anne’s. Eve had always admired Fiona’s easygoing personality.
She excused herself from Clare and D’Angelo, who hardly seemed to notice her departure. They were talking in low tones, and Eve could have sworn she felt something akin to sexual vibrations emanating from the two of them. Had she been wrong about Clare’s intentions? Was something going on between her and D’Angelo?
Going into the ladies’ room, Eve washed and dried her hands, then ran a comb through her hair and touched up her lipstick. Staring at herself in the mirror, she tried to see what Tony saw when he looked at her. Straight, shoulder-length brown hair, hazel eyes, nice smile thanks to the braces. Nice figure, but nothing extraordinary.
She looked a little uptight, Eve decided, and wished she’d left her jacket in the car. Removing it now would be a little too obvious, so she settled for unbuttoning her beige blouse a couple of notches. Then, feeling ridiculous, she quickly redid the buttons.
The door to the bathroom opened, and Fiona Gallagher walked in. Now here was a woman who knew how to dress, Eve thought enviously, taking
