Forgotten in Death(29)

“Works.” After draining the coffee, Peabody set the mug aside. “I’ll give both these people another push. I’ve gotten the unavailable on both all damn day, but it’s got to be close to knock-off time for them. Or after it.”

“Let me know. I can still take one of them at home, then hit Singer.”

Eve sat again, and decided to start with the oldest living generation. She used the ’link number she had on Elinor Bolton Singer.

A woman of about forty with poreless skin the color of a chocolate malt and sea-green eyes came on-screen. “Mrs. Bolton Singer’s residence.”

“This is Lieutenant Dallas with the New York City Police and Security Department. I’d like to speak with Mrs. Singer regarding an investigation.”

“Yes, Lieutenant. Mrs. Bolton Singer has spoken with her son and grandson and has been apprised of the situation. Unfortunately, she’s resting and can’t be disturbed at the moment.”

At a hundred and five, Eve decided the woman was entitled to a nap. “I’d like to make arrangements to speak with Mrs. Singer, at her convenience. My partner and I can come to her.”

“Of course. I’ll check with Mrs. Bolton Singer’s assistant on her schedule and availability. If I can have a contact number, I’ll let you know as soon as possible.”

Eve relayed the number. “And your name?”

“I’m Sheridon Fitzwalter, Mrs. Bolton Singer’s head housekeeper.”

“Given her age, is there anything I should know about your employer’s health before the interview?”

“Mrs. Bolton Singer is quite well, thank you. She is very mindful of maintaining a healthy mind, body, and spirit. I believe if she tires, she won’t hesitate to inform you.”

“Okay then. I’ll wait to hear from you.”

Maiden and married name, every time, Eve thought. Very formal, very fussy. Curious, she did a quick run on the assistant.

Mixed race, unmarried, age forty-three, with the Hudson Valley mansion as her official address. She also had a certification as a nurse practitioner. Five years under her current employment.

Live-ins knew things, heard things, intuited things.

She might want a separate conversation with Sheridon Fitzwalter.

She tried J. Bolton Singer next—same address, different contact number—and got a recording stating he was currently unavailable. She left her name, number, and the request he contact her as soon as possible.

She sat back and considered.

The three generations had talked. Normal, she decided, for family, especially with the business interest. It also gave them an opportunity to coordinate stories, details.

She’d judge that when she talked to all of them.

She got up, gathered what she needed. She walked out to the bullpen as McNab pranced in.

Like a ringmaster, he brought the EDD circus with him. His baggies, the color of lemons infused with plutonium, glowed. The shirt over his skinny torso exploded with polka dots.

He pumped a fist in the air. “Score!”

Jenkinson shot out a finger. “And you rag on my ties, boss.”

Eve could only shake her head.

“Where’s Roarke?”

“Just putting some finishing touches on Feeney’s deal. Mine is…” He spread his hands, turned his thumbs up while he executed a strange little dance in his rainbow airboots.

Eve felt her eyes shake in their sockets.

“Stop. I beg you.”

“The cap said you can have me as needed since me and my team have scored.”

“I’ll let you know. Take him out of here,” she told Peabody. “Hit the IT interview, write it up at home. We’re going to take on Elinor Bolton Singer tomorrow, and J. B. Singer if I can get through. Read my notes on both of them. And we’ll track down Tovinski, bring him here—in our house—for interview. With his background, he’s used to being in the box. Yuri Bardov’s on tomorrow’s list, and a swing by the lab to give DeWinter a push. I’ll send you the timing when I work it out.”

“I’m all in.” Peabody gathered her things. “McNab can speak IT to the IT.” She smiled at him. “We can pick up a couple of brews, take them to the house, and see today’s progress. We need to settle on tiles, and the cabinet doors, and—”

“Take Insane House Project with you,” Eve ordered. “Get gone.”

“We’re out.”

At least, Eve noted, they waited until they hit the doorway to link hands and swing arms.

“It’s one crazy house,” Baxter said from his desk. “Trueheart and I dropped by the other day. A crazy, big-ass house. I liked it.”

“It’s nice they’re moving into the attachment with Mavis and Leonardo.” The fresh-faced Trueheart kept writing up a report while he spoke. “With the kid and another coming, it’s good they’ll have cops right there, and friends.”

“Yeah, it’s a good deal all around. What’s your status?” she asked Baxter.

“Funny you should ask. I was about to come to you to approve a little OT for me and my boy. We’ve got a hot angle, and we want to have ourselves a stakeout tonight.”

“On the floater? Who, what, why?”

Once he ran it through, she signed off, and started out herself.