Abandoned in Death (In Death, #54)(50)

“Absolutely. I hope nothing’s happened to that girl. I’m going to say prayers for her.”

“Makes sense she’d use that shop,” Peabody said when they walked outside again. “And if he was watching her, getting her routine down, he may have gone in after her, at least once.”

“She talks to people—the shopkeeper, the grandson. I’m betting the glide-cart operator where she got her street coffee, or the bakery clerk where she picked up bagels or muffins. Let’s pull in a couple uniforms to hit the shops and restaurants along this stretch—from her subway stop to her apartment, and to the bar. And we’ll check the same from her workplace.”

“I’ll get that started.”

While Peabody arranged it, they took the turn to the bar. A lot of people out and about, Eve thought, enjoying the cafés, breezing in and out of shops, just strolling, enjoying the weather.

“Perfect time of year for it,” she commented. “Did he wait, I wonder, for the weather? So he could sit outside and watch, or wander along behind her? Why trudge along in the cold when you can stalk in the warm?”

When they reached the bar, Eve stood a moment, studying it.

“Night spot, doesn’t open until five, and that’s to grab the drink-after-work crowd. We’ll try upstairs.”

She mastered through the door to the apartments over the bar. In this case, she didn’t give the single gray-doored elevator with its frowny-face graffiti an instant’s consideration.

They took the stairs to the third floor.

She noted Stone’s apartment door had double security locks and a cam.

She buzzed, waited a few beats, buzzed again, then just leaned on the buzzer.

“Maybe he’s not in there,” Peabody suggested.

“Cam light blipped from red to green. He’s home.”

The door banged open a half inch to a double security chain. “What the fuck?”

“The fuck is this.” Eve held up her badge. “We’d like to speak with you, Mr. Stone.”

“Then come back when I’m not sleeping.”

“Happy to, with a search warrant, and we can have this conversation at Cop Central.” She turned away.

“Wait a damn minute.” He slammed the door, chains rattled. He yanked it open again and stood in a pair of black boxers that showed off a tanned, buff body. He swept a hand through a lot of disordered hair—milk-chocolate brown with a lot of sun-kissed highlights.

“I’m not even awake yet. I own the bar down below. I work nights. What’s this about?”

“Mary Kate Covino.”

“For Christ’s sake. Whiny woman goes off to sulk somewhere, and I get harassed over it? I need some goddamn coffee.”

“We’d like to come in, Mr. Stone, unless you’d like to have this conversation in the hallway, or down at Central.”

He made a come-ahead gesture, slammed the door behind them, then stalked off in his boxers to, Eve assumed, get his goddamn coffee.

The elevator and stairwell might be dicey, she concluded, but Stone lived lush.

Snappy furnishings in manly browns and blacks, slick double-size gel sofa, roomy leather chairs, an entertainment screen that spanned an entire wall.

His dining area held a glossy black table, with some sort of ornate copper centerpiece. A serving bar displayed several fancy decanters with the glass doors under it showing off sparkling glasses and a full wine fridge.

He stalked back out with a large white mug.

“Look, I’ll tell you what I told her nosy roommate. I don’t know where she is, and I don’t care. Guess what? It’s not my problem.”

Eve held up her badge again. “Guess what? I’m making it your problem.”





11





He walked over, dropped down in one of his leather chairs. Gulped coffee.

“So check the half crap of a condo she rented on the Jersey Shore. Her idea of a freaking love nest. She probably went there to cry in her pillow.”

“Gee, why didn’t we think of that?” Eve let the sarcasm drip. Stone just shrugged. “You have a lot of contempt for a woman you were recently involved with.”

“Involved’s a strong word. We had sex once in a while, for a while. It ran its course, and I showed her the door. Arrest me.”

“If there was a law against being a complete dick, we would.”

Eve raised her eyebrows at Peabody’s comeback, but said nothing.

“Unfortunately,” she continued, “there are so many we’d run out of room for them.”

“Listen, sister—”

“Detective.” Eve stepped closer to stare him down. “Detective Peabody and Lieutenant Dallas, and I believe my partner has just let you know you’re nobody special. You were in a sexual relationship with Ms. Covino.”

“We had sex, not a relationship.”

“Several nights a week, she worked in your bar.”

“She helped out—her idea. And she takes all that and blows it up into something. Not my problem.”

“Yet you agreed to take a trip with her to this half-crap condo on the Jersey Shore.”

He shrugged. “So I didn’t say no right off. I was thinking about it. Maybe I even said sure, we’ll do that, fix it up. I changed my mind, and she couldn’t handle it. Dragged her dumbass suitcase into my place, puts it in the back like she owns the joint. Pissed me off.”