Gated Prey (Eve Ronin #3)(14)

The neighbor shut off his hose, now that the pretense wasn’t necessary to learn what was going on. “That’s Joel Dalander, her boyfriend. They’ve rented that house together for about a year.”

“What do you know about Joel and Sherry?” Eve asked.

“They have sex so loud it scares our dog. I wanted to call you about it, but my wife says it’s not a crime. Is it?”

“I don’t think so,” Duncan said.

“It’s disturbing the peace, isn’t it? How is loud sex any different than loud music?”

“Loud music can go on for hours,” Duncan said.

The neighbor gave Duncan a sad look. “I guess you’ve forgotten what it’s like to be in your twenties.”

Eve spoke up before this conversation could go too far astray. “Can I get your name, sir?”

“Neville Nussbaum.”

“Do you know what Joel and Sherry do for a living?”

“Sherry works from home, some kind of mail-order business. Joel’s a night manager at the Burger King on Vanowen. He always gives us a free order of fries or a shake when we go in but that doesn’t make up for the megaphones they’re holding in bed.”

Duncan showed Nussbaum pictures of Greg Nagy and Paul Colter on his phone. “You ever see these two guys around?”

Nussbaum looked at the photos and shook his head. “Nope. But it’s not like I had Joel and Sherry under surveillance. I’m not a nosy neighbor.”

Eve handed Nussbaum her card. “Here’s my card. Please give me a call if you happen to see her come home.”

“Sure thing.” Nussbaum nodded and studied her card. “What did they do?”

“We just want to talk with her.”

Nussbaum tipped his head toward the two officers. “You always bring backup for a conversation?”

“Sometimes conversations can get heated,” Eve said. “Do Joel and Sherry have any dogs or other animals in the house?”

Eve didn’t want to walk in and get attacked by a pit bull.

“Nope,” he said.

“Thanks for your help.” Eve smiled and followed Duncan into the garage, both of them putting on plastic gloves as they walked.

“Very tidy,” Duncan said. “I don’t trust people with clean garages.”

“Why not?” Eve asked, noticing that several of the shelves held packing materials: rolls of Bubble Wrap, bags of Styrofoam “popcorn,” rolls of packing tape, and stacks of unassembled flat-rate priority-mail boxes in various sizes.

“Most normal people have too much going on in their lives to worry about keeping the garage clean.”

That conclusion made no sense to Eve, who was most interested in Sherry’s quick flight. “She knew we were coming, which means there was at least one accomplice in Vista Grande who knew what went down.”

“Or she saw the news,” Duncan said.

“We need to make sure there are squad cars at the other locations to keep anybody else from bolting, if it’s not already too late.”

“I’ll contact the dispatcher, have her call the watch commanders in Sherman Oaks and Santa Monica, and tell them to send units to watch the houses and stop anybody who tries to leave. You can go ahead and start the search in the meantime.”

Duncan went back to the Explorer.

Eve tested the knob on the door that led into the house. It was unlocked. She started to open it, then thought about how the garage door was left wide open, practically inviting them to come inside, and then she remembered a scene in a movie where a cop was in a similar situation. He opened the door to the house, triggered a trip wire, and the house blew up.

She hesitated and thought perhaps she should try a different door. Or a window.

Or maybe she’d just watched too many dumb movies. Things like that didn’t happen in real life.

Screw it.

She opened the door and stepped into the kitchen, which was clean but looked as if it hadn’t been touched since a remodel in the 1970s. Formica floors, yellow laminate countertops, and dark wood cabinets. Even the appliances seemed dated, except for a Nespresso machine and a microwave on the counter.

“Hello?” Eve called out. “Anybody here? I’m a police officer with a search warrant.”

The air inside the house was still and undisturbed. She was certain that nobody was home.

She walked through the kitchen to the living room, which was dominated by a huge flat-screen TV, electronic gaming equipment, and an elaborate stereo system. The leather-upholstered furniture looked new.

Eve continued down a short hallway to one of the two bedrooms. The first one was being used as an office, and the shelves held more packing and mailing materials as well as handbags, wallets, belts, and various accessories from Gucci, Chanel, Vuitton, and other major designers, boxes of Air Jordan shoes, and assorted jewelry. There was a stack of mailing labels on the desk, a printer, a wireless touch pad, and a foam wrist rest for a missing computer.

She picked up one of the mailing labels. The return address was a Reseda PO box on Vanowen and the company name was It’s A Steal.

Cute.

She pocketed the label. Duncan came in and said, “What do you bet all of this stuff is stolen goods?”

“I’m certain of it.” Eve showed him the mailing label. “Cocky, aren’t they?”