Celebrity in Death (In Death #34)(65)

“What?” Stunned, Eve tried to crane her neck and look. “Christ.”

“No, no, in a good way, not in a skanky way.” She snuck in another stroke. “Was it a just-because? I love just-because presents the best. Last month McNab gave me the cutest pair of earrings—like chains of hearts—just because. You know a guy’s stuck on you if he springs for just-because jewelry of any kind.”

“Okay.” Which, by Peabody’s measure, would mean Roarke was stuck on her like a man in quicksand. She stopped at the door, pulled out her master. “It’s lined with body armor.”

“Say what?”

Eve opened the jacket. “The lining, it’s a new material his R and D people developed. Blast-, stunner-, and blade-proof.”

“Seriously?” This time Eve made no objection when Peabody fingered the lining material. It was, in Eve’s opinion, a cop thing and allowed.

“It’s so thin, and light—and it moves. It shields a blast?”

“So he says, and he’d know. I figured you could stun me later to test it out.”

“Hot damn. You know what, the jacket’s like the car.”

“Is this a riddle?”

“No,” Peabody said as Eve swiped the master. “It’s an ordinary thing—well, special, but a jacket, right? And the car, it’s ordinary, it even looks it. But both of them have the special inside. Cop special especially, you know? He so gets you. That’s even better than a just-because present.”

“You’re right. He does. And it is.” Inside, Eve paused another moment. “He’s worried about me.”

“Going to—being in—Dallas had to be hard on both of you,” Peabody said carefully.

“You don’t push.”

“I read your reports, and I figure there’s a lot of stuff, personal stuff, not in them. I get you, too. Partners better get each other, right?”

“Yeah.”

“One day maybe we’ll have a drink, and you’ll tell me what wasn’t in the reports.”

“We will.” And could, Eve realized, because Peabody got her. Because she didn’t push. “I will. Asner’s place is on the second floor.”

As they started up Eve heard the usual morning sounds from an older, unsoundproofed, working-class building. The mutter and pulse of morning shows on-screen, music, doors closing, the whine of the elevator, and of kids not yet shuffling or clomping toward school.

No palm plates on the doors, she noted, but plenty of sturdy locks, security peeps. She studied the Secure-One plate on Asner’s door, and figured it for show, a deterrent rather than the real deal.

She used the side of her fist, gave the door a good trio of bangs. Almost immediately the door across the hall opened. The man who came out wore sweats, a warm-up jacket, running shoes. He carried a gym bag over his shoulder. He gave them an easy smile as he fit a ball cap over scraggly brown hair.

“I don’t think A’s home.”

“Oh?” Eve responded.

“I gave him a tag a few minutes ago. We’re gym buddies, and usually head out together most mornings. He didn’t answer, so …” He shrugged.

“Did you see him yesterday?”

The smile faded into suspicion. “Yeah. Why?”

Eve took out her badge. “We need to talk to Mr. Asner. When did you see him yesterday?”

“About this time. We hit the gym. What’s this about?”

“We need to talk to him about an ongoing investigation.”

“Then you should probably try his office.” He gave them the address they already had. “It’s a little early, but if he’s working on something that kept him out all night, he might’ve just bunked there.”

“Out all night?”

The man shifted, obviously uncomfortable. “I’m assuming. We made plans—loose ones—to watch the game together, with a couple other guys last night. My place. He didn’t show, and he’s not one to miss game night, especially when we had a bet on it. So I figured he got caught up on work. Look, you should just go to his office. I don’t like talking about a buddy to the cops. It feels off.”

“Understood. We appreciate the time.” Eve took out a card. “Listen, if you do happen to see him at the gym, just tell him to contact me.”

“Sure. I can do that.” He slipped the card into his bag. Relaxed again, he smiled. “If you see A first, tell him he owes me twenty.”

“Will do.”

Eve waited until the neighbor jogged down the steps. “We might as well try the office. It’s not far, and he might’ve bunked there, especially if he spent the day gambling and got stung.”

Once they were in the car, Eve ran through her suppositions, conclusions, and theories reached the night before.

“I agree about Matthew and Marlo,” Peabody said. “They’re happy lovebirds. Not that lovebirds don’t kill—the inconvenient spouse or ‘rich, just won’t give up and die’ Great-aunt Edna. But not only doesn’t Harris apply, but neither has a spouse, and they’re both more than sound financially. Was there anything on the recording I should know about?”

“They had sex, some post-coital mushy pillow talk. They did some yoga together, then ordered Chinese food, ate it while they—what do you call it—ran lines on upcoming scenes. He helped her with the choreography of a fight scene. Talk that wasn’t work-oriented stuck mostly to choices of a getaway. It’s between Fiji and Corfu—or was. They watched some screen in bed, had another—shorter—round of sex, went to sleep.”