Faithless in Death (In Death, #52)(44)

“Got it. Thanks.”

They walked across white tiled floors, teller cages on the left, desks on the right, to an open office door where a woman with a tumble of gray hair worked at a fake wood desk on a very slick comp.

She glanced up with sharp and shrewd blue eyes.

“Something I can do for you?”

Eve held up her badge. “NYPSD. We have a safe deposit key, and the warrant authorizing us to open it and take the contents into evidence.”

Wasser gave a grunting assent, a nod, and held out a hand. “Let’s see the warrant.”

Peabody opened her file bag, took it out.

Wasser nodded as she read it. “Box 44. Says here I’m obliged to tell you who opened the account, who’s authorized to open the box.”

“That’s right.”

“Sec.” She swiveled back to her comp. “Data on box 44,” she ordered, then added a code.

“Okay then, the box was acquired May 4, 2058, in the name of Gwendolyn Anne Huffman. Hers is the only authorizing signature. Ms. Huffman has no other accounts with our bank.”

“Okay, good enough. How about we open it?”

“Sec,” she said again. She rose, went to a locked cabinet. Once she’d entered a code, she pulled it open, selected a key from a slot.

She finger-waved them to follow her out. She clipped across the tiles in sensible shoes that went with her no-bullshit black suit. At another set of doors, she entered a code, then opened them.

Eve engaged her recorder.

Another finger wave to lead the way into a large room with walls lined with numbered metal drawers.

She clipped to 44, slid her key into the right-hand slot.

“Renter’s slot on the left.”

Eve took Peabody’s mini-can of Seal-It for her hands, then took the key from the evidence bag.

When she slid it into its slot, Wasser gave another nod. “You’d know the drill, but you can use that table there. If you need a bag for the contents, we provide them at a small fee.”

“Thanks.”

Wasser stepped out, shut the door.

“Let’s see what we’ve got, Peabody.”

She pulled the drawer out, set it on the table.

“Cash. Get a count of that for the record.” Eve set a handful of stacks aside. “Jewelry.” She opened a small black leather box.

“That looks like an engagement ring,” Peabody observed. “Heart-shaped diamond, gold setting with some little diamonds in it.”

“It’s not the one from Merit. She was wearing that in Interview, and it makes this look like a toy.”

“It’s sweet though.”

Eve set it aside, opened a slim box. “Necklace, little heart of diamonds.”

“To go with the ring.”

“Right.” Eve opened a third box, long and narrow. “And a bracelet, same sort of deal.”

“They’re not really her style. Too sweet and old-fashioned.”

“And the diamonds aren’t flashy enough.” Another box. “Crystal heart on a stand, engraved. ‘Gwen, you’ll always hold my heart. Chad. 2/14/55.’ College year.”

“I wouldn’t have pegged her as sentimental, but she kept all this from a college romance.”

Eve actually snorted. “She doesn’t have an ounce of sentiment in her. File folder—hard copies and discs. Ah, we have appraisals. One for a one-point-six-carat diamond ring, fourteen-karat yellow gold setting, with point-four diamond accents. Got all the particulars on the stones, for an appraisal of eight thousand, six hundred dollars—dated 6/5/55.”

Peabody and her romantic heart sighed. “That’s not sentimental.”

“Neither is having the rest of it appraised—necklace, bracelet. Dated 1/8/56.”

“I bet he gave them to her for Christmas.”

“We’ve got the crystal heart, too, but that appraisal’s dated 2/16/55. She didn’t waste time. Chad spent better than twelve large on her.”

“Why’s she keeping them?”

“Rainy day insurance. We’ve got an appraisal on her current engagement ring—8/8/60. Easy enough to check, but my money’s on him sliding it on her finger late July or early August. And she hit the jackpot. Ten carats, square cut, platinum setting, nine hundred thousand and change.”

“Holy shit. I hope he gets it back.”

Eve let out a dismissive grunt. “You’ll snowboard in hell before she gives it up, and he’s too classy to make an issue of it. She’s got other appraisals—minus the pieces—that coordinate with the time she’s been with Merit. Chad’s out twelve K. But Merit wins the prize at over two and a half million.”

“Maybe she has them for insurance.”

“College Chad and Lawyer Merit would have the documentation and carry the insurance,” Eve corrected. “You wouldn’t want your intended to know what you spent.”

“You’re right. It’s just so tacky.”

“More stuff not in here, but appraised. If she bought it herself, she’d use her home safe. Baxter said she had insurance stuff in there. We’ll go through it. But here’s a bronze sculpture of an angel, Art Deco style, blah blah, appraisal date 1/5/61.”

“Ariel Byrd’s work.”