the setup…
NYPSD Lieutenant and Homicide Detective Eve Dallas and her über wealthy husband Roarke have just returned from a well-earned vacation to Greece with a brief stopover in Ireland. They thought they had a least 24 hours before she had to face the backlog of paperwork and he the demands of a massive business empire. But Eve receives an urgent request in the middle of the night to come to a murder scene, coming from an unusual source…IAB Detective Don Webster, a former suitor and Roarke’s nemesis. The victim is retired IAB Captain Martin Greenleaf who was found dead in what looked like a possible suicide. But Webster is convinced otherwise and knows he needs the very best investigator on the case.
the heart of the story…
To say that Eve and Webster have a complicated past is putting it rather mildly but they’ve always respected one another. It doesn’t take long for Eve to share Webster’s suspicions that the scene was staged. But she knows what’s needed is to do the job and that means to gather the evidence and follow procedure to the letter. Being a cop who took down bad cops, Greenleaf had an endless list of suspects to pursue. I loved the procedurals in this one because they were not only stellar, they exposed the level of muck Internal Affairs has to deal with when faced with bad cops. I watched as Eve’s opinion of Greenleaf evolved from one of forced acceptance to respect as a cop who died in the line of duty.
the bottom line…
Strong themes about family were pervasive, including those that aren’t created biologically. It was a wonderful aspect of the story as Eve seems to finally get who and what that means to her. One of the reasons I love this series is because of its outstanding character development and it’s in full force here as we revisit old and continuing relationships, including Mavis & Peabody’s great house project. But it was the procedural here that kept me hooked as Eve trusted her instincts, even when there was little to support it, to ferret out the elusive killer. This one is outstanding.
Book Info
- Release Date: September 5, 2023
- Series: In Death #57
- Page Numbers: 368
- Publisher: St. Martin’s Press
Excerpt
Chapter One
Someone had either kidnapped the sun or decided screw the ransom and killed it dead.
For two glorious weeks, before its abduction or demise, it had blasted heat and light so the sea below the villa in Greece sparkled, diamonds on sapphire. It had baked every ounce of
stress away and left generous room for sleep, sex, wine, basking, and more sex.
No better way, to her mind, to spend a slice of summer in 2061.
Lieutenant Eve Dallas, murder cop, hadn’t thought about murder and mayhem for days.
That alone equaled vacation. Add a villa of sunbaked gold stone, views of sea and hill, of olive groves and vineyards out every window, top it all off with lazy, private time with the man she loved, and you had it all.
It was a hell of a perfect way to celebrate their third anniversary.
Sometimes it still amazed her. How the cop and the criminal (former), two lost souls who’d pushed, punched, and kicked their way out of misery, somehow found each other. How they’d managed to build a good, strong life together.
Whatever changed, shifted, evolved, that remained constant.
They built together.
Now, after two weeks of ridiculous indulgence—not that Roarke would think it at all
ridiculous—they’d arrived in Ireland under a sky of stacked clouds and dripping rain. Maybe the Irish were sun killers.
And yet, the green shined so vivid here as the fields spread, the hills rose, the stone
walls glistened in the wet. The skinny road they traveled snaked, and hedgerows dripping with bloodred fuchsia closed in like living walls.
She checked herself. Maybe a touch of stress but only because the Irish, in addition to being suspected sun killers, opted to drive on the wrong side of snaking, skinny roads, and Roarke drove as if he powered down a straightaway.
He was so damn happy, and his happiness rolled right through her. She didn’t consider it a Marriage Rule to share such a cheerful mood, but it did stand as an advantage.
She studied him awhile—a more pleasant view than the breaks in the hedgerows that displayed sheep, cows, occasionally horses, and various other four-legged animals.
He had that face. Those wild Irish blue eyes, that perfectly sculpted mouth, and all that black silk hair to frame it.
Those lips curved, those eyes smiled—just for her—when he glanced at her.
“Not much farther.”
“I remember.”
The last time they’d visited his family’s farm in Clare—a family he hadn’t known existed
during his nightmare childhood, or his very successful career as a thief, a smuggler, a (fairly) legitimate businessman who’d built an empire—they’d pursued a contract killer.Lorcan Cobbe, the vicious boy from Roarke’s childhood, became a vicious man, and one who’d wanted Roarke dead.
Tables turned, she thought. And now Cobbe sat in an off-planet concrete cage, and would for the rest of his vicious life.
“There’s a break in the clouds ahead.”
She peered at the leaden sky. Maybe, if she squinted, there was a slightly less gray patch.
“You call that a break?”
“I do, yes.” Ireland, like the green, wove through his voice as he reached over to lay a hand on hers. “It means much to them for us to come like this, spend time with the family. It means everything to me that you’re willing to.”
“I’m happy to go. I like them, the whole insane mob of them. And it’s nice to spend some time here when we’re not with a bunch of cops.”
“It is. And yet, that was a satisfying visit after all.”
“Because I stood back and let you kick Cobbe’s ass.”
He smiled again at the “let you.” “My cop understands me, and loves me anyway. And
there now, see, there’s a bright spot.”
She couldn’t deny what he’d called a break now showed hints of blue.
“Bright’s a strong word.”
He turned, turned again, and there she saw the field where she’d once landed in a jet-
copter—with the damn cows—because he’d needed her. Where she’d first met Sinead Brody Lannigan, Roarke’s mother’s twin.
The stone-gray house, the barns and outbuildings, the thriving gardens.
Even as Roarke turned into the drive, the front door burst open. Sean, Sinead’s freckle- faced grandson, ran out.
“You’re here at last! We’ve been waiting forever, haven’t we? And Nan and Ma made a welcome feast. I’m fair to starving, as they won’t let me have so much as a nibble.”
He stood, fair-haired and bright-eyed, in the dripping rain.
“I’ll help with the bags.”
“There’s a good lad. And how’s it all going, Sean?”
“Fine and well. Are you wearing your weapon then?” he asked Eve. “Can I see it?” “No and no.”
“Ah well.” He shouldered a bag Roarke handed him. “Maybe later then. We’ve had no trouble, not even a bit, since last you came. But maybe now we’ll have some.”
“Bring that bag in,” Sinead, honey-blond hair in a sleek tail, hands on narrow hips, called from the doorway. “And stop badgering your cousins. Welcome, welcome to you both. We’ve missed your faces. No, no, don’t bother with the bags.”She embraced Roarke, held a moment, then turned to Eve to do the same. “We’ve enough able men to bring them in and up to your room.”
Inside, all color and movement, voices raised in greeting, more hugs. Eve figured she hugged more in five minutes at the Brody farm than she did in a couple of years—or more— otherwise.
Someone handed her a glass of wine.
Food covered the counters in the farmhouse kitchen that smelled of fresh-baked bread and roasted chicken.
The chicken might’ve been clucking out in the coop that morning, but Eve wasn’t going to think about it.
Someone handed her a plate piled with enough food for three starving people. A pair of dogs raced by, then a couple of kids.
Sinead drew her aside.
“I’ve the gift you had sent ahead tucked away. You’ll just let me know when you want it.”
“I guess after all this.”
“We’ll take it up to your room then?”
“Oh. No. He should have it here. Everyone’s here. At least I think they are.”
“Every mother’s son and daughter. I didn’t know if you’d want a private moment for it.” “No, it’s . . . family. It’s a family thing.”
Green eyes soft, Sinead kissed her cheek. “I’m grateful for you, Eve. If I haven’t said so,
know I’m grateful for you. Now, let’s get you a seat so you can eat. Make room there, Liam, our Eve has legs longer than yours.”
So she sat, the long-legged cop with her choppy brown hair and whiskey-colored eyes, in the middle of noise and confusion that could rival a New York traffic jam.
She hadn’t known family, only abuse and violence, and had forged a career founded on standing for the dead. She had family now—the family she’d made, often despite herself, in New York.
And family here, in an Irish farmhouse.
She caught Roarke’s eye in the melee. When he raised his glass to her in a quick toast, she did the same.”
***
She hadn’t planned just how to give him his anniversary gift, hadn’t been entirely sure she could pull it off since she’d come up with the idea.
But when she’d considered giving it to him in Greece, alone, it hadn’t seemed the right way.After the feast, with the family sprawled in the living room, dining room, and kitchen, with a dog snoring and a baby nursing, with Roarke’s great-grandmother knitting something or other, seemed like the right way.
“Are you sure now?” Sinead asked when they went into a parlor, into a cupboard. “I haven’t seen it or—at great cost, I’ll add—given into the temptation to take a peek, but I know the idea of it, and there’ll be tears. Some will be my own, I expect.”
“I think it’ll mean more to him this way.”
She hoped so.
She carried the brown-wrapped gift to where Roarke and his uncle held a conversation
having to do with sheep.
“A few days late—in case you thought I forgot.”
She knew she’d surprised him—a rare thing—when she handed him the long, wide
package.
“Tear it open, would you?” Sean demanded. “Nan wouldn’t so much as give us a hint
what it was.”
“Then we’d best find out.”
More family crowded in as Roarke removed the paper, the stabilizers.
And inside, found family.
The painting held the farmhouse, the hills, the fields in the background. And everyone
stood together—the whole insane mob of them, young, old, babes in arms, Eve and Roarke centered.
Sinead stood behind Roarke’s right shoulder. Roarke’s mother, lost so long before, at his left.
“It’s the lot of us. Is that my aunt Siobhan, Nan?”
“It is, aye. Aye, that’s our Siobhan. Ah, it’s beautiful. It’s brilliant.” Turning, she pressed her face to her husband’s shoulder. “And here I go, Robbie.”
“This is . . . Eve.” Roarke looked up at her, his heart in those wild blue eyes. “I have no words.” He reached for her hand. “You’ve put Summerset in it.”
“Well.” She shrugged at that. “Yancy painted it.”
“I see the signature. It couldn’t be more precious to me. How did you manage this?” “Sinead sent photos, and Yancy figured it out.”
“Hand it over, lad.” Robbie took it from him. “And stand up and kiss your wife.”
“That I will. I love you, beyond reason.”
When he kissed her, the family cheered. Then crowded around to get closer looks at the gift.
Someone had either kidnapped the sun or decided screw the ransom and killed it dead.
For two glorious weeks, before its abduction or demise, it had blasted heat and light so the sea below the villa in Greece sparkled, diamonds on sapphire. It had baked every ounce of
stress away and left generous room for sleep, sex, wine, basking, and more sex.
No better way, to her mind, to spend a slice of summer in 2061.
Lieutenant Eve Dallas, murder cop, hadn’t thought about murder and mayhem for days.
That alone equaled vacation. Add a villa of sunbaked gold stone, views of sea and hill, of olive groves and vineyards out every window, top it all off with lazy, private time with the man she loved, and you had it all.
It was a hell of a perfect way to celebrate their third anniversary.
Sometimes it still amazed her. How the cop and the criminal (former), two lost souls who’d pushed, punched, and kicked their way out of misery, somehow found each other. How they’d managed to build a good, strong life together.
Whatever changed, shifted, evolved, that remained constant.
They built together.
Now, after two weeks of ridiculous indulgence—not that Roarke would think it at all
ridiculous—they’d arrived in Ireland under a sky of stacked clouds and dripping rain. Maybe the Irish were sun killers.
And yet, the green shined so vivid here as the fields spread, the hills rose, the stone
walls glistened in the wet. The skinny road they traveled snaked, and hedgerows dripping with bloodred fuchsia closed in like living walls.
She checked herself. Maybe a touch of stress but only because the Irish, in addition to being suspected sun killers, opted to drive on the wrong side of snaking, skinny roads, and Roarke drove as if he powered down a straightaway.
He was so damn happy, and his happiness rolled right through her. She didn’t consider it a Marriage Rule to share such a cheerful mood, but it did stand as an advantage.
She studied him awhile—a more pleasant view than the breaks in the hedgerows that displayed sheep, cows, occasionally horses, and various other four-legged animals.
He had that face. Those wild Irish blue eyes, that perfectly sculpted mouth, and all that black silk hair to frame it.
Those lips curved, those eyes smiled—just for her—when he glanced at her.
“Not much farther.”
“I remember.”
The last time they’d visited his family’s farm in Clare—a family he hadn’t known existed
during his nightmare childhood, or his very successful career as a thief, a smuggler, a (fairly) legitimate businessman who’d built an empire—they’d pursued a contract killer.Lorcan Cobbe, the vicious boy from Roarke’s childhood, became a vicious man, and one who’d wanted Roarke dead.
Tables turned, she thought. And now Cobbe sat in an off-planet concrete cage, and would for the rest of his vicious life.
“There’s a break in the clouds ahead.”
She peered at the leaden sky. Maybe, if she squinted, there was a slightly less gray patch.
“You call that a break?”
“I do, yes.” Ireland, like the green, wove through his voice as he reached over to lay a hand on hers. “It means much to them for us to come like this, spend time with the family. It means everything to me that you’re willing to.”
“I’m happy to go. I like them, the whole insane mob of them. And it’s nice to spend some time here when we’re not with a bunch of cops.”
“It is. And yet, that was a satisfying visit after all.”
“Because I stood back and let you kick Cobbe’s ass.”
He smiled again at the “let you.” “My cop understands me, and loves me anyway. And
there now, see, there’s a bright spot.”
She couldn’t deny what he’d called a break now showed hints of blue.
“Bright’s a strong word.”
He turned, turned again, and there she saw the field where she’d once landed in a jet-
copter—with the damn cows—because he’d needed her. Where she’d first met Sinead Brody Lannigan, Roarke’s mother’s twin.
The stone-gray house, the barns and outbuildings, the thriving gardens.
Even as Roarke turned into the drive, the front door burst open. Sean, Sinead’s freckle- faced grandson, ran out.
“You’re here at last! We’ve been waiting forever, haven’t we? And Nan and Ma made a welcome feast. I’m fair to starving, as they won’t let me have so much as a nibble.”
He stood, fair-haired and bright-eyed, in the dripping rain.
“I’ll help with the bags.”
“There’s a good lad. And how’s it all going, Sean?”
“Fine and well. Are you wearing your weapon then?” he asked Eve. “Can I see it?” “No and no.”
“Ah well.” He shouldered a bag Roarke handed him. “Maybe later then. We’ve had no trouble, not even a bit, since last you came. But maybe now we’ll have some.”
“Bring that bag in,” Sinead, honey-blond hair in a sleek tail, hands on narrow hips, called from the doorway. “And stop badgering your cousins. Welcome, welcome to you both. We’ve missed your faces. No, no, don’t bother with the bags.”She embraced Roarke, held a moment, then turned to Eve to do the same. “We’ve enough able men to bring them in and up to your room.”
Inside, all color and movement, voices raised in greeting, more hugs. Eve figured she hugged more in five minutes at the Brody farm than she did in a couple of years—or more— otherwise.
Someone handed her a glass of wine.
Food covered the counters in the farmhouse kitchen that smelled of fresh-baked bread and roasted chicken.
The chicken might’ve been clucking out in the coop that morning, but Eve wasn’t going to think about it.
Someone handed her a plate piled with enough food for three starving people. A pair of dogs raced by, then a couple of kids.
Sinead drew her aside.
“I’ve the gift you had sent ahead tucked away. You’ll just let me know when you want it.”
“I guess after all this.”
“We’ll take it up to your room then?”
“Oh. No. He should have it here. Everyone’s here. At least I think they are.”
“Every mother’s son and daughter. I didn’t know if you’d want a private moment for it.” “No, it’s . . . family. It’s a family thing.”
Green eyes soft, Sinead kissed her cheek. “I’m grateful for you, Eve. If I haven’t said so,
know I’m grateful for you. Now, let’s get you a seat so you can eat. Make room there, Liam, our Eve has legs longer than yours.”
So she sat, the long-legged cop with her choppy brown hair and whiskey-colored eyes, in the middle of noise and confusion that could rival a New York traffic jam.
She hadn’t known family, only abuse and violence, and had forged a career founded on standing for the dead. She had family now—the family she’d made, often despite herself, in New York.
And family here, in an Irish farmhouse.
She caught Roarke’s eye in the melee. When he raised his glass to her in a quick toast, she did the same.”
***
She hadn’t planned just how to give him his anniversary gift, hadn’t been entirely sure she could pull it off since she’d come up with the idea.
But when she’d considered giving it to him in Greece, alone, it hadn’t seemed the right way.After the feast, with the family sprawled in the living room, dining room, and kitchen, with a dog snoring and a baby nursing, with Roarke’s great-grandmother knitting something or other, seemed like the right way.
“Are you sure now?” Sinead asked when they went into a parlor, into a cupboard. “I haven’t seen it or—at great cost, I’ll add—given into the temptation to take a peek, but I know the idea of it, and there’ll be tears. Some will be my own, I expect.”
“I think it’ll mean more to him this way.”
She hoped so.
She carried the brown-wrapped gift to where Roarke and his uncle held a conversation
having to do with sheep.
“A few days late—in case you thought I forgot.”
She knew she’d surprised him—a rare thing—when she handed him the long, wide
package.
“Tear it open, would you?” Sean demanded. “Nan wouldn’t so much as give us a hint
what it was.”
“Then we’d best find out.”
More family crowded in as Roarke removed the paper, the stabilizers.
And inside, found family.
The painting held the farmhouse, the hills, the fields in the background. And everyone
stood together—the whole insane mob of them, young, old, babes in arms, Eve and Roarke centered.
Sinead stood behind Roarke’s right shoulder. Roarke’s mother, lost so long before, at his left.
“It’s the lot of us. Is that my aunt Siobhan, Nan?”
“It is, aye. Aye, that’s our Siobhan. Ah, it’s beautiful. It’s brilliant.” Turning, she pressed her face to her husband’s shoulder. “And here I go, Robbie.”
“This is . . . Eve.” Roarke looked up at her, his heart in those wild blue eyes. “I have no words.” He reached for her hand. “You’ve put Summerset in it.”
“Well.” She shrugged at that. “Yancy painted it.”
“I see the signature. It couldn’t be more precious to me. How did you manage this?” “Sinead sent photos, and Yancy figured it out.”
“Hand it over, lad.” Robbie took it from him. “And stand up and kiss your wife.”
“That I will. I love you, beyond reason.”
When he kissed her, the family cheered. Then crowded around to get closer looks at the gift.
Blue Mood Café 
Book 57! It must be good if you’re still enjoying them Jo. Fab review!
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Thanks, Nicki💜 It’s amazing how the series stays fresh after this many books. FYI, there’s only about one month of elapsed time in the stories between each book.
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I’m not one for crime novels but thoroughly enjoyed your review Jonetta!
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Thanks, Jodie💜 You might just like this series, though😏
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yes! I think they are all pretty outstanding.
Anne – Books of My Heart
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Well, you know there’s no argument from me on that💜
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I can’t wait to read this one! Excellent review!
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Thank you, Tessa💜 I hated putting it down and reaching the end!
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I have this on hold at the library, can’t wait. I love how we can stay invested in Eve and Roark as a couple even after so many books. They are always changing and never stale.
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Hope your hold time is short, Rolé💜 It’s amazing how invested we are in this series after more than 50 books!
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