Echoes in Death (In Death #44)(56)

Lilia rose, went to the intercom. “Yo.”

“Ms. Dominick?”

“Another yo.”

“This is Detective Peabody.”

“Tell her I’ll be right down,” Eve said.

“Detective, Lieutenant Dallas says she’ll be right down.”

“Thanks. I’ll wait.”

Eve got to her feet.

“Is there anything else I can do?” Lilia asked. “Anything?”

“You move in the various worlds. The client, the vendors, the staff, the friends, the events, and the parties. Give it all some thought, see if anything or anyone starts to float to the surface. Something out of step, a little off, anyone just a little bit too curious.”

“I will. Believe me, I will.”

Eve went downstairs, found Peabody on the sidewalk, face upturned to the snow with a goofy smile. Jesus, a cheerful optimist.

“Don’t make me hurt you.”

“Hey. It’s so pretty.”

“It’s cold, it’s wet, and it makes many, many people behind the wheels of vehicles behave like morons.” She jerked her thumb. “We’re this way.”

“How’d it go with the border collie?”

“She’s smart, personable, efficient. And she’s really fond of Lori Brinkman. It came through. She also worked behind the scenes on Daphne’s wedding.”

“Oh, boy, that’s a big bell ringing.”

“They talk,” Eve continued as they walked. “The vendors, the coordinators, the servers, and so on. Shoptalk. Easy, so easy for little details to get passed along. When and where, how many, and like that. He knows how to listen, knows how to pick up tidbits. Maybe he was smart enough to stalk Lilia, too, and pick up those tidbits. Maybe he hacks her ’link or comp—he could have those skills. No real security on her building or apartment. Basic stuff. He could’ve gotten in there, gone through the files, found what he wanted that way. Lots of ways.”

“Do you think he knows her—she knows him?”

“I think she brushes up against an awful lot of people doing what she does. I think it’s a pretty good bet he was there at the Celebrate Art Gala, and he started selecting his targets.”

“All three.”

“Oh, I don’t think he stopped at three. All those women. Plenty of remarkably beautiful women, I’m damn sure, who happened to be married. Plenty of very rich couples who fit his requirements. And however many he might have earmarked that night, he’s had other nights, other opportunities. One way or the other, he moves in that world.”

When they reached the car, she got behind the wheel. “Either nobody notices him—staff—or he’s one of them. Either way, he’s in a position to select targets and pull out the information on them that he needs.”

She glanced in the rearview before pulling out, watched a car take the corner too fast, fishtail, barely miss spinning into an oncoming car, which swerved and spun as its driver overcompensated.

“Snow,” Eve grumbled, pulling out. She glanced at the address Peabody plugged into the in-dash. “That’s Roarke’s building.”

“Aren’t most of them?”

“Ha ha. That’s his HQ.”

“Oh, right. It’s the lawyer. I didn’t put it together. I just think of it as the big black tower looming powerfully over Midtown. And woo! Underground, VIP parking for us!”

Eve considered opting for street parking, just to be contrary, scowled at the thickening snow. Might as well take what made the next stop easier.

It did loom, she admitted as the sleek black tower came into view. And looked dramatic and important, especially rising up against the white sky.

The man did enjoy making an impact.

“What did you find out about the bartender?” Eve asked as she maneuvered through the increasingly deplorable road conditions.

“A couple of bumps, but nothing major or violent. Arrested twice during animal-rights protests, went peacefully, charges dropped. He’s worked at Jacko’s for just under three years. Lists his height as five-eight and a half. Interestingly, he’s a member of the East Side Community Players, and though most of his income comes from bartending, he lists his profession as actor.”

“That is interesting. We’re going to want to talk to him.”

“We can try bringing him into Interview today, but this storm’s now predicted to dump fifteen to eighteen inches in the city, and the wind’s going to take it into blizzard territory before evening.”

“Who decides that?” Eve demanded, sorely irked at having the weather interfere with procedure. “Who decides this is the blizzard line, or fifteen to eighteen? Why not sixteen to nineteen?”

“The weather wizards?” Peabody suggested.

“Wizards, my ass. A real wizard would say you’re getting hammered with fifteen-point-six inches because I say so.”

“It’s going to be worse in the ’burbs—and I don’t know why,” Peabody said quickly. “But they’re already advising people to stay off the roads barring emergencies.”

“They can say whatever the hell they want. Nobody listens to them.”

Annoyed, she pulled into the garage entrance. The gate lifted as it scanned her license plate. Gate security flashed green as the computer engaged.