Indulgence in Death (In Death #31)(39)

“You don’t like them.”

“I don’t know them,” he repeated. “But no, not particularly, and that would be mutual. Their type has a built-in distrust and disdain for my type. Money polishes up the street rat, darling, but it doesn’t exterminate it.”

“Then I don’t like them either.” When he raised his brows, she poked him in the belly. “It’s pretty clear one or both of them dissed my man. That’s my job.”

“Hold this?” he said and pushed the drink into her hand. Then he used his free hand to poke her in the belly in turn. “Thanks for that. But even if we deem them f**k-headed snobs, it’s a long distance to murder.”

“Gotta check the angles. Here.” She pushed the drink back at him, took the two bags of soy chips. “Go do what you do, and I’ll do the same. Thanks for the chips,” she said as she walked away.

“You bought them.”

“Right.” She turned, walked backward a moment. “You’re welcome.”

9

EVE TOSSED PEABODY THE BAG OF CHIPS AS SHE walked into the nearly empty bullpen.

“Hey, thanks!”

“Did you earn it?”

“I’ve got a series of runs and searches going. So far, I can’t find any connection between Sweet and Urich. They both belong to health clubs, but different ones. Sweet has a cabin deal upstate. Urich has a summer place in the Hamptons, but the wife got that in the settlement anyway. They didn’t grow up or go to school anywhere near each other. They have different doctors in different areas of the city. They don’t even shop in the same areas.”

“Check out the exes. Might as well be thorough.”

“I got that started, too. So far, zip. Did a secondary run on the driver tonight. Nothing there, either. She’s worked for the service seven years, clean slate, no intersects I’ve found with Sweet. She has driven Urich a number of times, but that’s to be expected. I’m looking at Urich’s admin and her assistant. Not hitting anything yet.”

“McNab’s going to send down data on a pair of shoes. I want to know venues for purchase.”

“Shoes?”

“We got a partial image from park security. It’s not much, but we can get the shoe. I’m going to check out the vic’s place, get her appointment book.”

Peabody opened the chips, took a deep sniff. “You don’t want me along?”

“We need to get this drone work done. When you’ve got a good handle on it, take an hour—two if you need it—in the crib.”

She fueled up with coffee, then headed out. She started to leave the top up, just as a matter of principle, but decided what the hell. Who was going to see her zipping around topless at four in the morning?

Added to it, when she pulled to the curb in front of the shiny building on Park Avenue, the droid doorman didn’t sneer at her. Instead, he hustled up, respect in every circuit to open her door.

“Good morning, miss. How can I help you?”

“By not calling me miss.” Pleased, she pulled out her badge. “It’s Lieutenant. I’m leaving my ride here. Nobody touches it. I need access to Ava Crampton’s unit.”

“Miss—Lieutenant. Ms. Crampton hasn’t returned home this morning.”

“And she won’t be, seeing as she’s dead.”

He got that blank droid stare while he processed the unexpected information. “I’m sorry to hear that. Ms. Crampton was a valued tenant.”

“Yeah. Code me in.”

“I’m afraid I’ll need to verify your identification before admitting you.”

She held the badge up again, waited while its eyes scanned, while they processed. “Has anyone else tried to get into her place tonight?”

“No. Ms. Crampton occupied the penthouse triple, west corner, and there has been no exit or entrance to that unit since Ms. Crampton herself left at . . .” It got that droid stare again. “Twenty-two-thirty-two. At which time she took a private transportation, with driver, to an unknown to me destination. Do you require data on the transportation and/or driver?”

“No, I’ve got that.”

“I’ll pass you through to Ms. Crampton’s unit. Will you require my assistance?”

“All I require you to do is make sure my ride stays like it is, where it is.”

“Absolutely.”

Crampton had lived the high life, Eve thought as she rode a private elevator to the sixty-first floor. Three-level corner penthouse, with roof garden, on an exclusive piece of real estate.

More than sex, she mused. It took more than acrobatics and a good body to earn what it took to maintain this lifestyle.

The triple opened up into a sweeping foyer with an intricate chandelier of tangled and glinting silver draped with diamond-clear glass. Dark wood floors provided a canvas for rugs in bold colors and complicated patterns. Art maintained the theme, slashing hot, mixed colors and strange shapes against warm cream walls.

Furnishings, she noted as she wandered through the main level, managed to marry that complex style with sumptuous comfort. Deep, deep cushions and plenty of them, sparkling lights, mirrored tables, countless pillows.

A silver dining table held a huge clear vase of flowers someone with an artist’s eye had arranged—and recently. Over an ebony fireplace in that room reigned a pretty spectacular portrait of its former occupant, boldly nude as she reclined on a bed draped in red.