Summerset and Eve had a volatile relationship which has turned to a certain respect over the two year period of the series. Summerset took in Roarke as a teen after Roarke escaped from under his father’s thumb. He now works as Roarke’s butler/housekeeper/majordomo. Summerset was never a fan of the police. They were either something to get around or in the case of the death of his daughter, they were bribed to look the other way and her killers were left free. Summerset also thought Roarke should have chosen a wife with class and style, not a cop with a bad haircut. Summerset has come to learn that Eve and her cops actually protect and serve and he has come to respect her, and understand that Eve would die to protect Roarke and never use him for her own gain. Although they have come to respect each other (and there have been several moving moments between them), they both get enjoyment out of sniping at each other and try to get the best insult in each time.
She stepped into the lofty foyer, sparkling like the exterior with lights of the season. And spotted Summerset, naturally, in his funereal black, with their pudge of a cat sitting at his feet.
Both eyed her coolly.
“Ah, you remembered your home address.”
“I thought if I stalled long enough, you’d crawl back in your coffin. No luck there,” she added as the cat padded over to wind through her legs like a fat ribbon of fur.
– Obsession in Death
“Mix up your routine,” she told him as she started up the stairs. “Your out-of-the-house routine. The shopping, visiting gravesites, haunting houses with the other ghouls—whatever it is you do. Mix it up for the next few days.”
“I have a scheduled haunting tonight, but it can be postponed.”
– Obsession in Death
She’d barely stepped in, taken that first breath of cool, clean air, when Summerset, Roarke’s majordomo, appeared in the foyer like an unwelcome vision.
“Yes, I missed the dinner,” she said before he could open his mouth. “Yes, I’m a miserable failure as a wife and a poor example of a human being. I have no class, no courtesy, and no sense of decorum. I should be dragged naked into the streets and stoned for my sins.”
Summerset raise one steel gray eyebrow. “Well, that seems to cover it.”
“Good, saves time.” She started up the stairs. “Is he back?”
A little annoyed she’d given him no opportunity to criticize, he frowned after her. He’d have to be quicker next time.
– Purity in Death
Summerset, Roarke’s butler, slipped into the foyer to greet her with a baleful eye and a sniff of disapproval. “You are, once again, quite late.”
“Yeah? And you are, once again, really ugly.” She dropped her jacked over the newel post. “Difference is, tomorrow I might be on time.”
– Loyalty in Death
Summerset, Roarke’s majordomo and the bane of Eve’s existence, came to the doorway. He sniffed once, his bony face set in disapproving lines. “That Chippendale is a coffee table, Lieutenant, not a footstool.”
“How do you walk with that stick up your ass?” She left her feet where they were, propped comfortably on the table. “Does it hurt, or does it give you a nice little rush?”
– Reunion in Death
“I find I can still be shocked,” he said. “You’re home nearly on time, and unbloodied.”
“Day’s not over. You know I thought I saw a dead man walking a couple hours ago. Did you have to go downtown for some eye of newt?”
He lifted his eyebrows. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I prefer doing my shopping uptown.”
“Must’ve been another corpse.”
– New York to Dallas
“Have you been brawling again?” Summerset wondered. “Or is this some kind of fashion statement?”
She remembered the bandage on her arm, and the lack of a jacket to conceal it. “Neither. I lost a best and had to get your name tattooed on my arm. So I carved it out with a penknife.”
– Innocent in Death
It felt strange to be able to clock off at the end of shift and head home on time. It was stranger still to walk in the front door and not have Summerset lurking in the foyer ready with some pithy remark or observation. She actually found herself standing there for a minute or two, waiting for him, before she caught herself.
Oddly embarrassed, she started upstairs certain he’d be there, sort of lying in wait. But she made it all the way to the bedroom without a sign of him. Or the cat.
It didn’t, she realized, feel quite like home.
– Reunion in Death
Because her mind was on other things, Summerset caught Eve off guard as she came in the door.
“Do you require change-of-address forms?”
“Huh? What?” She yanked herself back to the moment, then immediately regretted it. He was in her moment, the bony, black-suited pain in her ass. “Can’t you find another place to haunt? I hear there’s one available down on East Twelfth.”
His lips thinned – if, she thought, it was possible for what passes as his lips to compress in an even tighter line. “I assumed as you no longer appear to live here, you’d need the proper forms.”
She pulled off her coat, tossed it on the newel post. “Yeah, get those forms, I’ll fill them out.” She started up the stairs. “How many M’s in Summerset anyway?”
– Born in Death
Roarke strode out, leaving Summerset blinking after him. The twist in his gut had him doing something he’d never have considered otherwise. He reached for the inhouse ‘link.
“What?” Eve snarled, the grimaced at the image on her screen. “Mother of God, my eyes! Block the video for sweet Jesus’ sake.”
“Quite. Something’s wrong with Roarke. He’s not well.”
“What? What do you mean? He’s sick?”
“I said he’s not well. I expect you to do something about it as I’m unable to.”
“Where is he?”
“He’s home. Find him. Fix it.”
“Done” was all she said.
– Portrait in Death