Secrets in Death (In Death #45)(63)
The girl—she couldn’t have been much more than sixteen—gave Eve one fierce look. Then her eyes filled with tears and fears.
“Help! Help! She’s hurting me.”
“Hey, lady—” The first Good Samaritan pushed forward.
“NYPSD.”
“She’s lying! She’s trying to kidnap me!”
The Samaritan firmed an iron jaw. “You’re going to want to let her go.”
And with a crowd moving in, he grabbed Eve’s arm.
“Sorry,” Eve said, before she kneed him hard in the groin, sending him down. “NYPSD! I’m the police.”
“Help! Oh, please, somebody help me!”
“You’re good,” Eve told her as the young thief screamed and wriggled. “I’m better.”
She managed to get out her badge and hold it up. She didn’t think it made her any friends while she manhandled a pretty, petite teenager, but most backed off.
Once she muscled the kid to her knees, worked on the restraints, she opened the girl’s coat to reveal the loot pockets inside.
And the wrist units and wallets in them.
The Good Samaritan, still wheezing, stared at one of the wrist units Eve held out as proof.
“I … That’s mine!” He looked down at his naked wrist, at the one in Eve’s hand, at the girl now wearing a defiant smirk.
“You’ll need to come down to Cop Central, sir, to make a claim. I’m sorry for the inconvenience. And for the knee.”
He just continued to goggle. “She stole my wrist unit.”
The girl shrugged. “I gotta eat, don’t I?”
He stopped goggling long enough to snarl, “Get a job.”
As a couple of beat droids marched up, Eve hauled the girl to her feet, turned her over, gave terse orders. Winding her way back to Peabody, she rubbed her jaw where the girl had rammed her head during the scuffle.
“Remind me to avoid this area in the future,” Eve said.
“I didn’t spot the girl. Spotted the boy a couple seconds after you, but I didn’t make her until you went after her. Which is why your badge says Lieutenant. He had ear comms.”
“Yeah, her, too. Slick. Just not slick enough.”
“Well, that was fun,” Peabody said on a quick breath. “I contacted Knight’s offices to let them know we’re heading in. This time the receptionist said Knight’s unavailable, in meetings.”
“We’ll see about that,” Eve said and kept walking.
“Here’s the thing, it’s the same one I spoke with before, but this time she came off flustered, hedging—like she’d been given orders to push back.”
“Interesting. We’ll push back harder.”
“I guess that’ll be fun, too.”
They pushed through several levels of building security—and skirted two tours—to reach the lofty level of Knight Productions.
Annie Knight’s offices spread over the fifty-first floor in a style that struck Eve as homey efficiency.
Its central lobby ran to soft, soothing colors, deep-cushioned sofas and chairs, and was equipped with refreshment and entertainment programs. A lot of lush greenery and cheery flowers mixed in.
The reception counter formed a gentle curve, manned by people in more soft, soothing colors, and backed by a huge portrait of Annie Knight with a let’s-talk-about-it smile.
“Middle one,” Peabody said, so Eve aimed for the center receptionist.
She decided to start off discreetly by palming her badge, angling it and her body so those waiting in those cozy sofas and chairs wouldn’t see.
“NYPSD. Lieutenant Dallas and Detective Peabody.”
The woman flicked a glance at Peabody, flicked that glance away. “Building security informed us you were coming up.”
“Uh-huh, and did you inform building security to give us the runaround?”
“No! No, ma’am. I … but as I explained before, Ms. Knight’s not available. I’d be happy to make an appointment for you for, ah, later in the week.”
“How about if I made one for Ms. Knight right about now at Cop Central?”
Pure distress covered her face as she lifted her hands. “She really is in a meeting. And she needs to be on set for bumpers in fifty-three minutes.”
“Try this. Inform Ms. Knight we’re here, and should be able to complete our business in under that fifty-three minutes if we see her now. Otherwise…”
“Listen.” The woman leaned toward Eve, lowered her voice. “Her PA already came down on me for giving Detective Peabody the schedule, and I’ve got direct orders that Annie—Ms. Knight—is not to be disturbed. I’m trying to do my job.”
“I’m going to do mine. Let me worry about the PA. Tell Ms. Knight we’re here.”
“I … Listen,” she repeated, “just let me contact her PA, explain you’re here and you’re insisting. He’s a little protective of Ms. Knight, and it’ll give me some cover. You can take it up with him. Okay?”
“Okay. What’s your name?”
“Melissa Forenski.”
“Melissa, inform the PA in question that I will speak to Ms. Knight here or at Central, today. Easy or messy, his choice.”