Faithless in Death (In Death, #52)(15)

“No, she didn’t.”

“We’re going to check when she left the wedding planner, check when she hit the shop, what she bought.”

“I’ll add it to the list. These fries make the ham even more the ult.”

Which reminded Eve to eat one.

They followed Gwen up the elevator, where she leaned back against the wall of the elevator, smiling smugly. Then down the hallway to her apartment.

At seventeen-fifty-five, she came out again.

“Freeze it. Yeah, she changed, but those aren’t urban-strolling-and-into-the-park clothes.”

“They wouldn’t be mine,” Peabody agreed.

Another dress, Eve thought, but this one in hot red with skinny bow straps that showed off the shoulders and a short, swingy skirt that showed off the legs. Heels, high again, but these were red like the dress and strappy to show off the pedicure—more hot red.

Bold, dangly earrings, thick gold cuffs on the wrists, and a gold handbag big enough to hold a toddler. The sophisticated bun had given way to long, shiny waves. The subtle makeup now smoked and smoldered.

“Would you call that date-night wear, Peabody?”

“Yeah, I would. And I bet she’s got sexy underwear on under that dress.”

“Count on it. She’s bouncing. She’s got that I’m-gonna-get-laid bounce to her step.”

With a nod, Peabody nibbled on another fry. “McNab gets sort of a bounce-swagger. It’s hard to pull off a swagger with his skinny ass, but he does it.”

Rather than respond, Eve filled her mouth with ham and cheese.

“Here she comes—not between eight and nine. Time stamp, twenty-two-eleven. And moving fast this time, looking pissed.”

“Definitely pissed,” Peabody agreed. “Now it’s a fuck-this-shit stride. Her hair’s all I-just-rolled-out-of-the-sexy-bed. She didn’t brush it out, and her lip dye’s worn off. She’d buy a good one, so that says—”

“Her mouth did some work.”

In the elevator she crossed her arms over her chest, glared straight ahead. At one point her eyes went glossy with tears, but she tossed her head, pulled them back.

She marched to her apartment. Eve didn’t need audio to tell her Gwen slammed the door.

She ran the feed, kept running it to nearly midnight. But the door didn’t open again.

“That’s well past TOD, Dallas.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Eve pushed back. “There’s always another way out if you want it bad enough, but I don’t see her rappelling down the building. Still, I want EDD to look at the feed, see if there are any glitches. Alternately, she could have had it done. I want to see her ’links.”

She ate another fry as she started on the morning feed. “Here she comes. Zero-six-forty-one. Bright and early, and she doesn’t have excited face on.”

“I’d call that determined. You were right about the clothes, the makeup.”

“Yeah, jeans, spring sweater, hair pinned back at the sides, but loose, another enormous bag, low boots, and plenty of careful makeup.”

In the elevator she pulled enormous sunshades out of the enormous bag. She checked her wrist unit, tapped her foot.

Again, she strode across the lobby without a word or glance.

At zero-seven-forty-three, she came into the lobby again. Eve slowed speed.

She didn’t stride, bounce, strut, but walked very deliberately toward the elevator. “Freeze it,” Eve ordered, then enhanced.

“That’s not the face of a woman in shock. Shaken maybe, a little pale and shaken, but thinking. Calculating. She figured out what to do on the ride back uptown.”

In the elevator, Gwen pulled off the sunshades, rubbed a hand over her heart. Eve froze and enhanced again.

“Pupils aren’t dilated. No zoned-out look in them, no trembling. Not fucking shock. She’s upset, but the rest is bullshit.”

In the hallway, she quickened her pace, hurried to her apartment and inside.

“That’s a lot of lies,” Peabody commented.

“Yeah, a whole basket of lies. We’ll be bringing her in, but let’s get it all lined up first. Start on that list, I’ll copy and send the feed to Feeney, and put the board and book together.”

“On it. She didn’t come out again on the night of the murder,” Peabody added. “But what are the odds somebody walked in that apartment and bashed Byrd’s head in an hour or so after she and Huffman had a fight?”

“They improve if Huffman asked somebody to take care of it for her. She strikes me as the type who gets people to take care of things.”





4


Eve set up the board first. She wanted the visual.

She read the initial reports—sweepers, lab, ME—added them and the reports from the uniforms into her notes, into her murder book.

She wrote her report, then opted to copy Mira. The expert profiler might give her more insight into a person like Gwendolyn Huffman if and when she needed it.

She’d just begun a deeper dive into Gwen’s background when she heard the clip coming down her hall. Not Peabody’s clomp—uniform shoes.

She glanced around as Officer Shelby started to rap her knuckles on the doorjamb. “Sorry to interrupt, Lieutenant. Detective Peabody’s holding on her ’link and asked me to relay the officers in the field located the flower vendor and the wineshop regarding your current investigation.”