Thankless in Death (In Death #37)(8)

I don’t think so, Eve mused, but she nodded. “I’m sorry to ask, but would you be able to tell if anything’s missing across the hall?”

Sylvia closed her eyes. “Yes. I’m sure I would. I—I know Barb’s place, her things, as well as I know my own.”

“I’d appreciate it if you’d take a look. I’ll let you know when we’re ready for you to do that.” Eve rose. “We appreciate your help.”

“We’ll do anything we can.” Sylvia pressed her face to her husband’s shoulder, and they rocked each other.

When Eve stepped out into the hall, Peabody stood talking to Cardininni.

“Coffee can’s there, and it’s empty.”

“See my shocked face.”

“And the sweepers are on their way up.”

“Okay. Officer, when the scene’s clear, I want you to walk Mrs. Guntersen through, make a note of anything she says is missing.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Peabody, let’s go find the lazy bastard son.”

“Keep it legal,” Peabody called back to Cardininni.

“When I have to.”

Eve stopped long enough at the elevators to brief the sweepers when they unloaded, then stepped on with Peabody.

“Tell me about the son.”

“Lazy bastard probably fits,” Peabody commented. “Flunked out of college, second year in. He hasn’t held a job for longer than six months, including one at his father’s place of employment. His last job was delivery boy for Americana restaurant. He’s had a couple minor pops for illegals, one for drunk and disorderly. Nothing big, nothing violent.”

“I think he graduated.”

“He did that over what they had stuck in a coffee can?”

“He did that because his life’s in the toilet and they’d decided to stop pulling him out. That’s how it strikes me. See if he’s used any credit cards, debit cards, in his father’s or his mother’s name.”

She stopped off to get the security disc from the uniform in the lobby. “Start canvassing the building,” she told him. “Find out if anybody saw anything, heard anything. And when and if anyone saw Jerry Reinhold. Start on the eighth floor, but cover the building.”

“Yes, sir.”

In the car, she slid the disc into the dash unit. “Let’s see when he left.”

She programmed it to start Friday morning, then moved it fast forward. She saw the Guntersens leave with big smiles and suitcases, and others move in, move out.

“That’s our vic coming home from work, eighteen-twenty-three on Friday night.”

“He looks tired,” Peabody commented.

“Yeah, he thinks he’s going to have an argument with his son. It’s going to be a whole lot worse.”

She ran the disc through Friday night into Saturday morning.

“He stayed in there?” It horrified Peabody. “He stayed in there with his dead parents.”

“Plenty of time to get whatever he wanted, think things through. There he is, there he comes, twenty-twenty-eight, Saturday night. Over twenty-four hours in there with them. And he’s hauling two suitcases. Let’s check on cabs picking up at the address or on either corner at that time. Lazy bastard isn’t going to drag those suitcases far.”

“He’s smiling,” Peabody said quietly.

“Yeah, I see that. Keep running it, see if he comes back.” As she spoke Eve pulled out into traffic.

“Where are we going first?”

“We’ll try his last known address.”

While Eve drove, Peabody multitasked. “No activity on either of the vics’ cards.”

“So he’s not completely stupid.”

“And he didn’t go back to the apartment.”

“Got what he could get.”

“But how far can he get on the contents of a coffee can? Even if they stashed a couple thousand in there, and that’s a lot for home cash.”

“We need to check financials on both vics. Any transfers or withdrawals from any account. People tend to write down their passwords,” Eve added before Peabody could speak. “He had plenty of time to dig out the passwords, any codes, dig into their accounts. Cab first. We could get lucky.”

Eve started to make the turn to Jerry’s listed address when Peabody let out a whoop. “I got him!” She held up a finger, continued to rapid-fire into her ’link. “Got it. Thanks. Rapid Cab pickup,” she told Eve, “right in front of the damn building, drop off at The Manor—that’s a fancy boutique hotel, West Village.”

“Address, Peabody.”

As Peabody rattled it off, Eve hit sirens, lights, and took the corner. Peabody grabbed the chicken stick, white-knuckled it, and said a short but heartfelt prayer.

The Manor looked like just that, something found in the English countryside and once owned by a wealthy earl. The gorgeous old brownstone, obviously recently and lovingly rehabbed, boasted a wide portico entrance, fat urns of trailing flowers, and a liveried doorman Eve expected to give her grief when she pulled her dull-looking DLE into the loading zone.

She braced for it as he hotfooted over in his royal blue and gold uniform and shiny knee boots.

“Listen, pal,” she began before his expression changed from that of a man about to toss out some stinky garbage to warm yet distinguished welcome.