Brotherhood in Death (In Death #42)(21)

“Thanks, Aiden—two seconds.” She tapped her earpiece. “I’m back. If you take care of your end on that, I’ll take care of mine. By end of day. That’s great. We’ll talk later. Bye now.”

She rose as she signed off, a small, slender woman in a soft gray suit with a little frill of white over the cleavage. She wore her hair, flaming, fiery red, in curls that spilled to her shoulders.

She came around the desk, assessing Eve with dark green eyes.

“Tressa MacDonald.” She held out a hand, shook Eve’s, then Peabody’s with a brisk, firm grip. “Someone’s hurt or worse. I know who you are,” she explained in a voice as brisk and firm as her handshake. “I know your reputation. You’re Homicide. If someone’s dead, would you tell me quickly?”

“There’s been no homicide or death I know of at this time.”

Tressa let out a short breath. “All right, that’s a relief. Please, sit. Can I offer you coffee? Aiden’s assistant makes a killer latte.”

“I’d love one,” Peabody said before Eve could deny them both.

“That’s two lattes. Lieutenant?”

“Just coffee. Straight coffee. Black.”

“Thanks, Aiden.” Tressa gestured to her sitting area, taking the sofa in nearly the same shade as her eyes while Eve and Peabody sat in deep blue chairs. “What’s this about?”

“Yesterday at approximately five P.M. Edward Mira was assaulted—”

“What?” Tressa’s spine snapped straight. “Where is he? How seriously was he hurt?”

“I can’t tell you because he’s missing.”

“What do you mean ‘missing’? I don’t—” She stopped herself, shook her head. “I’m sorry. I know better. One second.” She looked away, drew a breath, then another, slower. “Please, tell me what you know.”

“Were you aware that Senator Mira had an appointment yesterday with a real estate agent regarding the sale of a property he owns with his cousin Dennis Mira?”

“No.” She rubbed two fingers over the space between her eyes. “No, I wasn’t aware.”

“Do you know the name of the Realtor he worked with?”

“He’d worked with Silas Greenbaum—Greenbaum Realty—until recently.”

“Until recently?”

“Yes.” She glanced over as Aiden brought in the coffee, with a dish of thin cookies, on a tray. “Thanks, Aiden. Do you know what Realtor the senator was using?”

“No, I don’t, not since he severed ties with Greenbaum.”

“Check with Liddy, would you? See who he had an appointment with regarding the Spring Street property yesterday.”

“Of course.”

“And close the door please, Aiden. You believe whoever he met assaulted him?”

“He was assaulted in the house. His cousin Dennis Mira entered the property, followed the sound of voices to the study. He saw Edward Mira, injured, started in to assist him, and was himself attacked from behind.”

“Dennis?” Her fingers lifted to the white frill at her bodice. “Is he all right?”

“You know Dennis Mira?”

“Yes, very well. You can’t possibly think he had anything to do . . . Of course you don’t.” Now she pushed at her hair. “You work with his wife, you know him. And from everything I know about you, the two of you, you’re not idiots, so you know Dennis would never hurt anyone. I’m sorry to keep interrupting. I can’t sit.”

She rose, began to pace. “I’ll handle it better on my feet.”

Since Eve generally felt the same, she nodded. “When Dennis Mira regained consciousness, the senator was gone. Unless he’s shown up since we came in here, he hasn’t been seen since.”

“Kidnapping? But no demand for ransom? You’ve spoken with Mandy, surely. If there was a ransom demand it would go to her, or come through here.”

“Yes, I’ve spoken with her. She wasn’t able to offer any information.”

“He has a house in the Hamptons, and an apartment in East Washington. But you’ve checked.”

“I have.”

After a brief knock, Aiden opened the door. “The senator didn’t give Liddy a name, just told her he had an outside appointment. A four-thirty with a new Realtor. He left shortly after four. Vinnie drove him to the Spring Street property. The senator told him not to wait, he had transportation from there. Liddy doesn’t have any information about a new Realtor.”

“Thank you, Aiden. Would you tell Wyatt to put aside whatever he’s doing and come in here?”

“Right away.”

When he left, Tressa squared her shoulders, came back to sit, picked up her latte. “You’ll need to know where I was yesterday. Four-thirty?”

“Let’s make it from four to six P.M.”

“I was in meetings here until about a quarter to five. Wyatt, Aiden, and several others can verify. I had drinks scheduled for five with Marcella Candine at Bistro on Lex. We were there until shortly after six. I took a cab from there to my mother’s. It was my sister’s birthday, and we had a dinner party. Family dinner.”

Wyatt Book didn’t knock. He simply strode in, an imposing man twenty years Tressa’s senior with a shock of hair in an improbable inky black. His crisp suit mirrored the color, as did his eyes. They flicked off Tressa, zeroed in on Eve.