“Likewise,” she said firmly, her brown eyes giving away her intelligence. Her voice was high but determined, and she was dressed with as much class as her mother, though admittedly showing a lot more skin. Now that I knew their relationship, the resemblance was obvious, but where Mrs. Sarong was aging beautifully, her daughter Patricia was just simply beautiful, long black hair softly curving about her face and her small delicate hands possessing a hard strength. Instead of pearls she had on a chain of gold, a brown stone at the nadir point. Her pack tattoo, a vine twining about barbed wire, circled her ankle.

Stumbling, I pulled David forward. “This is David,” I said, almost hearing my unvoiced, He’s single.

David started, but then, with a rueful smile that made him ten times more attractive, he shook her hand. “Hello, Ms. Sarong,” he said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Mr. Hue,” the young woman said, her brown eyes amused.

Mrs. Sarong looked at me, her face questioning at my impertinence.

“Would you like something to drink?” I asked, thinking my rusty host skills were going to get a workout this afternoon while dealing with a woman so clearly raised on etiquette and form. And what in hell am I doing introducing David to her daughter like he was on the market? My lips tightened at Jenks’s snort from my earring. “We can go to a private room,” I added, not knowing if it would be easier to take her to Mr. Ray or bring him out here, but she interrupted with a wave of her hand.

“No,” she said lightly, her businesslike air returning. “What I want will take only a moment.” She looked at her daughter pointedly, and the young woman gestured for the men to back out of earshot. They went, sullen yet obedient, but when Mrs. Sarong glanced at David, I sent my gaze to her daughter, standing at her side.

“Fine,” the older woman said in concession. “I simply want to contract your services.”

Expecting this, I nodded, but a surge of morality tugged at me, and I found myself saying, “I’m already working with the FIB to find out who murdered your aide.” I gestured for her to sit at one of the small tables. “There’s no need for you to contract me as well.”

She settled herself gracefully, and I took the seat across from her. David and Patricia remained standing. “Splendid,” Mrs. Sarong said, clearly making an effort not to touch the top of the table. “But I want to contract your other services.”

Confused, I stared at her blankly.

“Your older profession, dear,” she added.

From my shoulder came a tinkling of pixy laughter, and my eyes widened.

“Mrs. Sarong…” I stammered, feeling my face flash red.

“Oh, for Cerberus’s sake,” the woman said in exasperation. “I want you to kill Mr. Ray for murdering my aide. And I’m prepared to pay handsomely.”