Survivor In Death (In Death #20)(11)

“That makes you an early bird, too.”

The woman smiled, toothily. “I like coming in early, when it's quiet. I get a lot done.”

“What do you do here?”

“Me, personally? Manage the office, assist. I'm a paralegal. What's up with Dave?”

“We'll wait for him.”

“Suit yourself. He's got an appointment at.. .” She turned to a data unit, tapped the screen with short, square-shaped nails painted gold like the streaks in her hair. “Nine-thirty. But he likes to get here, line up his ducks beforehand like me. Should be in soon.”

“Fine.” Because she wanted Peabody off her feet, Eve gestured her partner to the chairs, then leaned casually on the reception counter. “And you'd be?”

“Sade Tully.”

“Got an eye for cops, Sade?”

“Mother's on the job.”

“That so? Where?”

“Trenton. She's a sergeant, city beat. My grandfather, too. And his daddy before him. Me, I broke tradition. Seriously, is Dave in trouble?”

“Not that I know of. Anybody else here, in the office?”

“Dave's assistant isn't due until ten. Health appointment. Receptionist generally clocks in about quarter to nine. Grant Swisher, Dave's partner, should be in pretty soon. Grant's between assistants, so I'm filling in that slot. We got a droid clerk, but I haven't activated it yet today. Law student comes in about noon--after class--today. Well, if you're going to hang, you want coffee?”

“I would. We would,” Eve corrected. “Thanks.”

“No prob.” Sade popped up, walked two steps to an AutoChef. “How you take it?”

“Black for me, sweet and light for my partner.” As she spoke, Eve wandered, gave herself the chance to study the setup. Friendlier than most law offices, she decided. Little touches of hominess in the toys, the cityscape wall art. “How long's your mother been on the job?”

“Eighteen. She freaking loves it, except when she hates it.”

“Yeah, that's the way.”

Eve turned when the outer door opened.

The man who came in was black and trim, in a trendy suit of rusty brown with pencil thin lapels and a flashy striped tie. He carried a jumbo cup of takeout coffee in one hand, and was biting into a loaded bagel.

He made a mmm sound, nodded to Eve and Peabody, winked at Sade. “Minute,” he managed with his mouth full, then swallowed. “Morning.”

“Cops, Dave. Want to talk to you.”

“Sure. Okay. Wanna come back?”

“We would. Sade, would you join us?”

“Me?” The paralegal blinked, then something came into her eyes. A knowledge of trouble, bad trouble. She might have broken tradition, Eve thought, but she had cop in the blood. “Something happened. Did something happen to Grant?”

No point in going back to an office, Eve decided. “Peabody, on the door.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I'm sorry, Grant Swisher is dead. He, his wife, and his son were killed last night.”

Coffee streamed out of Dave's cup as it tipped in his hand and spilled a pool onto the company carpet. “What? What?”

“An accident?” Sade demanded. “Were they in an accident?”

“No. They were murdered, along with their housekeeper and a young girl named Linnie Dyson.”

“Linnie, oh God. Nixie.” Sade was around the counter and gripping Eve's arm in a flash. “Where's Nixie?”

“Safe.”

“Mother of God.” Dave staggered to the sofa, slid onto it, crossed himself. “Merciful Jesus. What happened?”

“We're investigating. How long have you worked with Swisher?”

“Urn, God. Ah, five years. Two as a partner.”

“Let's get this out of the way. Can you give me your whereabouts between midnight and three a.m.?”

“Shit. Shit. Home. Well, I got home just after midnight.”

“Alone?”

“No. Overnight guest. I'll give you her name. We were up and ... occupied until around two. She left about eight this morning.” His eyes were dark, and when they met Eve's again, they were shattered. “He wasn't just my partner.”

Sade sat beside him, took his hand. “It's just what she has to ask, Dave. You know. Nobody thinks you'd hurt Grant or his family. I was home. I've got a roommate,” she added, “but she wasn't home last night. I was talking to a friend on the 'link until just after midnight. She's got man trouble. You can check my machine.”

“Appreciate it. I'm going to want the name of your overnight guest, Mr. Rangle. It's routine. Ms. Tully, you said Mr. Swisher was between assistants. What happened to his assistant?”

“She just had a baby last month. She took maternity, but was planning to come back, so we did the temp thing. But a few days ago, she opted for professional mother status. There wasn't any friction, if that's what you're after. God, I'll have to tell her.”

“I'll need her name, and the names of all the staff. Just routine,” Eve added. “Now I want you to think, to tell me if you know of anyone who'd wish Mr. Swisher or his family harm. Mr. Rangle?”