Indulgence in Death (In Death #31)(35)

“Locks down at night.” She nodded toward the steady red light on the security pad before pressing the buzzer.

This residence is protected by Secure One, the computer informed her. The occupant does not accept solicitations. Please state your name and your business.

“Lieutenant Dallas and Detective Peabody.” Eve held up her badge for the scanner. “NYPSD. We need to speak with Foster Urich.”

Your information will be relayed. Please wait.

Good security, Eve thought, but Urich kept it simple and straightforward.

It took several minutes, but the security light switched to green, and the door opened.

Urich stood in loose pants and T-shirt, his feet bare. His hair looked sleep tumbled and curled around a sharp-featured face. Fear lived in his eyes.

“Has something happened to Marilee? My daughter. Is my daughter—”

“We’re not here about your daughter, Mr. Urich.”

“She’s okay? Her mother—”

“We’re not here about your family.”

He closed his eyes a moment, and when he opened them the fear died. “My daughter’s at camp. It’s her first time.” He let out a breath. “What’s this about? Jesus, it’s after three in the morning.”

“We’re sorry to disturb you at this hour, but we need to ask you some questions. Can we come in?”

“It’s the middle of the night. If I’m going to let you in, I want to know what this is about.”

“We’re investigating a homicide. Your name came up.”

“My—a murder? Who’s dead?”

“Ava Crampton.”

His face creased in puzzlement. “I don’t know anybody by that name. All right, come in. Let’s get this cleared up.”

The long entrance hall opened on the side to a living area with deep colors, oversized seating, a wide wall screen. On the table in front of a long high-backed couch sat two wineglasses and a bottle of red. A pair of high-heeled sandals sat under the table.

“Who’s Ava Crampton, and how did my name come up?”

“Are you alone, Mr. Urich?”

“I don’t see that’s any of your business.”

“If you’ve had company this evening, it may clear up some questions.”

He was blushing, Eve noted.

“I’m with a friend. I don’t like being interrogated about my personal life.”

“I don’t blame you, but Ava Crampton lost her personal life.”

“I’m sorry about that, but it has nothing to do with me. And I’d really like to know why you think it does.”

“Elegant Transportation took Ms. Crampton to Coney Island tonight.”

He looked both irritated and baffled. “Lieutenant Dallas, if you’re questioning everyone who routinely uses Elegant Transpo, you’re in for a really long night.”

“The reservation for the limo was in your name, and secured with your credit card.”

“That’s ridiculous. Why would I order a limo for a woman I don’t even know?”

“That’s a question,” Eve said.

Irritation increased enough to smother the bafflement. “When was it booked?” He snapped out the question. “What card was supposedly used?”

When Eve told him, he took a moment before speaking. “That’s my company card. I use that transpo service routinely for both business and personal, but I know neither I nor my admin reserved transportation for tonight.”

“Let’s get this part out of the way. Where were you between ten P.M. and one A.M.?”

“Foster?”

The pretty woman wore a man’s robe miles too big for her. Her short, bark-colored hair fell to her jaw. Like Urich, she hadn’t thought to comb it.

“I’m sorry. I got worried.”

“It’s all right, Julia. It’s just some sort of mix-up. Julia and I spent the evening together.” His color came up again. “I, ah, picked her up about seven-forty-five. We had an eight o’clock at Paulo’s. Then we, ah, came back here. I don’t remember the time.”

“It was a little after ten,” Julia supplied. “We’ve been in since. What’s happened?”

He walked to her, ran a hand down her arm. “Someone’s been killed.”

“Oh, no! Who?”

“I don’t know her, but there’s some confusion about the use of my company card. I need to straighten it out. I can’t think straight,” he added. “I’m going to make some coffee.”

“I’ll do it. No, I’ll do it, Foster. You sit down. Would you like coffee?” she said to Eve and Peabody.

“That’d be great,” Eve answered.

“Foster, sit down with the police. I’ll just be a minute.”

“Sorry,” he said when Julia went out. “Sit down. This has just thrown me off. I don’t know how my company account could’ve been used. We change the code every couple of weeks.”

Eve took the ID photo out of her bag. “Do you recognize her?”

He took a good look at the picture, then scooped back his untidy hair and took another, longer study before he shook his head. “No. And I don’t think that’s a face I’d forget. She’s beautiful. Coney Island, you said,” he added when he handed the photo back.