Indulgence in Death (In Death #31)(93)

“No problem.”

She stood another moment, looking at the no longer pretty Adrianne Jonas, then turned her back and walked away.

Walking across the park, she pulled out her ’link. She just needed to talk to him for a minute, she told herself. Thirty seconds. Maybe she just needed to see his face.

God. She needed something.

“Hello, Lieutenant.” Caro, Roarke’s admin, smiled out of the screen. “If you’d just hold one moment, I’ll put him on.”

“He’s into something.” Or he’d have answered himself. “It’s not important. I’ll get back to him later.”

“I’m under orders to put you through anytime you call today. I . . . Are you all right?”

Jesus, did it show? “Yeah.”

“Hold on,” Caro said.

Stupid, Eve berated herself. Stupid to have interrupted him. Stupid to have needed to. What she needed to do was the job—but if she broke transmission, he’d tag her right back. Then she’d feel stupider.

“Eve? What’s wrong?”

“I shouldn’t’ve . . . doesn’t matter because I did. They got another one.”

“Today?”

“Three this morning, Central Park. I just . . . God. He hung her in the park. Used a bullwhip. And I just . . .”

“Where are you now?”

“I’m leaving the park, going over to the vic’s place. I have to check it out, find out how she was booked. I have to work it.”

“Give me the address. I’ll meet you there.”

She felt her throat burn and realized emotion was shoving against the resolve that held the anger underneath. “That’s not why I got you out of some meeting. I’m sorry about that.”

“If you don’t give me the address, I’ll just get it by other means, which you won’t like. Let’s avoid the fight over something unimportant when we’re both tired and frustrated.”

“Look, I’ve got my work, you’ve got yours. I’m sorry I—”

“Last chance to avoid the fight. You’re a little more beaten up than I am, so I’ll win.”

She cursed, but she gave him the address. “I’ll clear you with building security.”

“Now, that’s just insulting. I’ll be there shortly.”

So he’d be Peabody again, she thought as she got into her vehicle. What the hell. She could use all the eyes, ears, hands, and brains she could muster.

19

THE DOORMAN TOOK ONE LOOK AT EVE’S VEHICLE and, wincing, left his post to stride over. He plastered a smile on his face, she had to give him that.

“Something I can do for you, miss?”

She held up her badge as she got out of the car. “Couple of things. First, make sure my ride stays where I put it. Second, clear me up to Adrianne Jonas’s place. Third—”

“I’ll have to check with Ms. Jonas before I clear you. Ah—” He took another look at her badge. “Lieutenant.”

“Good luck with that. She’s on her way to the morgue.”

“Oh, come on!” The sincere shock and distress made her wish she’d been slightly more tactful. “Ms. Jonas’s dead? What happened to her?”

“You knew her pretty well?”

“Nicest lady you’d ever want to meet. Always had a word, always had a smile. Did she have an accident?”

“No, somebody made her dead on purpose.”

“Oh, come on!” he repeated. “You mean somebody killed her? Why would anybody want to kill a nice lady like that?”

“I’d like to find that out. You need to clear me.” As he had with her badge, she took another look at his nameplate. “Louis. I have a consultant on the way. You’ll need to clear him when he gets here.”

“I gotta take a minute.”

He removed his spiffy, silver-trimmed red hat, lowered his head, closed his eyes. The simplicity threw Eve off, had her slipping her hands in her pockets and giving him his moment of silence.

He let out a breath, replaced his hat. Squared it, and his shoulders. “I need to log your badge in.” He moved to the door, opened it into a quiet and pristine lobby area. “And I’ll need the name of the consultant.”

Eve pulled out her badge again. “Roarke.”

The doorman’s head snapped up. “Oh.” He gave her badge yet another, closer look. “I didn’t realize. Sorry for holding you up, Lieutenant Dallas.”

“No problem.” So Roarke owned the building. Big surprise.

“You just take Elevator Two right up to fifty-one, then . . . God, I’m not thinking straight.” He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, shook his head. “Ms. Wallace is already up there. She got in about a half hour ago.”

“Ms. Wallace?”

“Ms. Jonas’s assistant, and Maribelle—that’s the housekeeper—she left a little before that to do some morning errands. Should I tell Ms. Wallace you’re coming up?”

“No. Does anyone else work for her, or live in the unit?”

“There’s Katie. I guess she’s what you’d call a gofer, but she’s not here yet today. Maribelle has her own apartment next to Ms. Jonas’s.”