Find Her (Detective D.D. Warren #8)(33)

D.D. had just finished conducting a visual tour of the outside of the apartment, as well as an inspection of the fire escape, when Keynes pulled up.

Keynes was wearing the same knee-length, double-breasted cashmere coat as the day before. How he’d gotten it dry-cleaned so fast, she’d never know, but it didn’t contain the faintest whiff of human barbecue or rancid garbage. Maybe he’d simply willed the odor away. Walking up to the building now, shoulders set, gaze direct, he had that look about him: the kind of guy who could take over the world through sheer presence alone.

He also appeared grim.

“When did you arrive?” he asked.

“Thirty minutes ago. When you dropped Flora off yesterday, did you go inside?”

“No. Her mom was already here. I spotted her truck parked down the street. Flora headed upstairs to see her.”

“Has Flora contacted you since? Phone, text, Facebook post?”

He shook his head. “Sign of forced entry?” He headed up the stairs, already on his way to the third-story unit.

“Negative. Fire escape also appears clear, but get this: That door is also unlocked. The bolt’s been undone. Same with all the windows. Each and every one of them may still be closed, but they’re unsecured.”

“Sounds like a message.” He was frowning.

“My thought exactly. But from her, or about her?”

Topping the stairs, Keynes strode straight inside the apartment, clearly familiar with the layout. He glanced around only briefly, then stated, “Definitely, her mother was here.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Rosa cleans when under stress. The kitchen—that’s her doing.”

“And Florence?”

“More relaxed in her housekeeping standards, prone to clutter.”

“So you dropped her off yesterday. She came upstairs to her mother. And then?”

Keynes produced his phone from his coat pocket. He hit a number while still walking around the gray-lit space.

“Rosa. Dr. Keynes. How are you? I’m fine, thanks for asking. You spent some time with Flora yesterday, didn’t you? I thought I saw your truck parked down the street. Exactly. I understand. I know. Her behavior does appear to be escalating. Yes, thank heavens she was all right. Her staying at the farm is an old argument, Rosa. You know I can’t intervene, not that it would make a difference with Florence anyway. Did you speak to Flora again last night? Maybe before bedtime? You called, but she didn’t answer. Thank you. I’ll do my best to follow up with her today. But of course. Pleasure to speak with you again. ’Bye.”

Keynes pocketed his phone, once again frowned. “Florence’s mother left her shortly after one yesterday. She hasn’t heard from Flora since.”

“That unusual?”

“Not necessarily. But the unlocked apartment is.” He walked into the bedroom, glanced at the plastered walls but didn’t seem surprised by the onslaught of articles. Instead, he headed for Flora’s phone.

“Password protected,” he observed. “So no way of checking the messages immediately. It’s possible she headed out to meet someone.”

“And left her front door open behind her?”

“No sign of forced entrance. Or signs of a struggle. Given Flora’s training, if someone had tried to grab her, she wouldn’t have gone down without a fight.”

“Unless she was ambushed. Maybe while she was sleeping.” D.D. gestured to the bed, which bore the only signs of disturbance in the whole place.

“But how would the attacker gain entrance? Flora would’ve definitely checked the locks before heading to bed.”

D.D. sighed. That was the piece of the puzzle that kept stumping her as well. She’d only just met Florence Dane yesterday, but she already knew enough to know the girl was hardly foolish about these things.

“Let’s check with the landlords,” Keynes decided. “Maybe they heard something.”

The landlords turned out to be an elderly couple, Mary and James Reichter, who’d owned the residence for the past fifty-two years and lived in the first-floor unit. They recognized Keynes from other visits, and greeted D.D. with beaming smiles that made her feel like she should’ve come bearing some kind of housewarming gift.

She and Keynes politely declined their offer of coffee, but still found themselves ushered into the front parlor, which bore an antique love seat and enough original oak trim to make D.D. salivate.

She perched tentatively on the edge of the delicate sofa, letting Keynes take the lead with the questions as he seemed to know the couple.

It took some loud, if not downright shouted, inquiries to determine the Reichters had seen Flora return home yesterday, sometime around midmorning. Her mother had already arrived by then, showing up again after lunch with some blueberry muffins to share. Excellent, excellent muffins. Rosa was an exquisite baker.

Oh yes, Flora. No, they did not remember seeing her again. But then, they’d been watching their shows in the back of the unit. So she could’ve gone out. Possible. Was anything wrong? Something they should know?

Keynes trod carefully. He had a delicate touch with the couple, D.D. observed. More neighborly than official, and yet at the same time keeping just enough reserve to have them striving to answer his questions.

Had they seen anyone else enter the building yesterday? Say, a stranger, someone they didn’t recognize?