Secrets in Death (In Death #45)(64)

“I need a minute.” She swiveled around, tapped her earpiece, did a lot of whispering. And when she swiveled back, looked a little sick. “I’ll escort you back to Mr. Hyatt’s office. Her personal assistant.”

“Good enough. You did your job, Melissa, and he’ll end up so pissed at me he won’t swipe at you for it.”

“We can hope.”

She led the way through a pair of glass doors down an open area of big, important-looking offices. And around a turn straight into another.

Hyatt wore a navy sweater over dark brown trousers. His hair formed a dark, close-cropped cap over a strong, rawboned face. Though he smiled personably, his eyes remained a cold, hard blue.

“Thank you, Melissa, you can go back to your station.”

She left, fast.

“Lieutenant, Detective, what can I do for you?”

He didn’t ask them to sit, though the office boasted a long sofa, two high-backed visitor chairs as well as his desk.

“You already know we’re here to speak to your boss. You can inform Ms. Knight we’re waiting.”

“As you were told, repeatedly, I believe, Ms. Knight’s in a meeting and then has to prepare for a promotional spot prior to her show. She can’t be disturbed, but I’ll try to assist you.”

Eve kept her gaze, cold and flat, on his face. “Peabody, start generating the paperwork that will require Ms. Knight to report to Central for questioning in a murder investigation.”

“Just one moment!”

“Already given you more than that. Time’s up.”

“I’ll contact Ms. Knight’s attorneys, and your superior.”

“Go ahead. Peabody.”

“Yes, sir.”

Hyatt strode to his desk, grabbed his ’link. “Get me Turnbill, immediately, and then contact the mayor.”

“Ooh, the mayor.” Eve just grinned. “Shudder. Hey, Peabody, maybe Channel Seventy-Five would be interested in reporting Annie Knight’s being detained, possibly arrested for obstructing a police investigation.”

“If you dare to— Bob? There are two police officers in my office threatening to have Annie detained. Yes, that’s what I said.”

At the quick rap on the doorjamb, Hyatt’s eyes flashed. He broke transmission, but before he could speak, the woman with her hair in a curly topknot, wearing worn skids, skin pants, and a baggy sweater, whirled a finger in the air.

“Sorry to interrupt. I need five when you’re free.”

“Ms. Knight?” Eve said.

“Yes, sorry.” She pushed at her hair. “I had a meeting right after my workout, didn’t have a chance to clean up.”

“No problem.” Eve took out her badge. “Lieutenant Dallas, NYPSD, and Detective Peabody. We need to speak with you.”

“I’ve already spoken to Bob Turnbill,” Hyatt began.

“Bill, calm down. What’s this about?” Then she lifted a hand, pressed it into a fist over her heart. “Oh. Oh, I see. I see. It’s all right, Bill.”

“Annie, you need to let me handle this,” he insisted.

“I’ve got it. Why don’t we go to my office?”

“Annie, I can have Bob here in twenty minutes. You absolutely don’t have to speak to these people.”

“I said it’s all right, Bill.” She turned, started down the corridor. “He’s fiercely protective,” she said in a voice that trembled a little. “And he’ll insist on contacting Bob—one of my attorneys. Sorry,” she added, pulling out her pocket ’link.

She listened for a couple seconds. “Bob, it’s fine. Bill overreacted. No, it’s fine, please don’t. I’ll let you know.”

She replaced the ’link. “My lawyer. I’m afraid Bill gave him the impression I’m about to be hauled off in restraints.”

“Were you informed we were coming, Ms. Knight?”

“No.” She let out a sigh.

“We contacted your offices,” Peabody told her, “in order for you to be prepared for our arrival.”

“Fiercely protective,” she repeated, and gestured them into the spacious corner office.

A man—mid-sixties, mixed race, wearing a salt-and-pepper beard and a Knicks sweatshirt—sat in a bold red scoop chair drinking what smelled like decent coffee and working on a PPC.

“That was quick,” he said, then looked up and saw Eve and Peabody. Smiled with considerable charm. “Hello.”

“Bic, this is Lieutenant Dallas and Detective Peabody. My partner, Terrance Bicford.”

“Bic to one and all.” He rose, stepped over to shake hands. Then he looked at Knight, said, “Well.”

“Yeah. Let’s sit down.” She didn’t go behind the impressive black lacquered desk centered in between the wide windows, but took the chair beside Bic’s.

“Can I get you ladies some coffee, tea?” Bic offered.

Weighing the different vibe—nerves from Knight, supporting and soothing from Bicford—from the all-out battleground of the PA’s office, Eve opted to give them a little time to settle.

“Thanks, coffee, black. My partner goes for coffee regular.”

“Annie?”

“I could use some of my go juice. Protein drink,” she explained. “I live on them. I’m nervous. I’m going to get that out there. I’m never nervous,” she said as Bic walked by her, rubbed a hand on her shoulder before he continued to the refreshment center. “But I am.”