Forgotten in Death(30)

She’d just reached for her ’link to tag Roarke when she saw him stepping off the elevator.

“Did you score?”

“I had an entertaining couple of hours.” He took her hand before she could evade, and drew her into the elevator with a load of change-of-shift cops. “And you?”

“I’ve got two stops to make, so if you want to hitch a ride, you’re making them, too.”

“I don’t suppose one of them is at a fine dining establishment and includes a good bottle of red.”

“No. The first’s an elusive plumber—head guy on Singer’s site. And the next is a follow-up with Singer—Bolton Singer. I want to drop in on him at home, see what shakes.”

Not nearly enough cops got off at the next stop; far too many got on. It was, to Eve, like being hedged into a can with an overload of sardines carrying badges and weapons.

“Well then, I’m with you, Lieutenant. We could make three stops and go by to see how things are progressing at Mavis’s.”

It surprised her to realize part of her actually wanted to.

“Too much work to do, and not enough brain left for more construction.” She did an inner scan to see if she felt any guilt over that, found just the slightest twinge. “How is it going? You’d know.”

“Both kitchens and all the loos are gutted, several walls are down, and a landscape crew has started clearing out the overgrowth and so on. There’s considerable fretting over choices—finishes, appliances, colors, fixtures—but time yet for firm decisions. McNab and I, and Feeney’s in it now, are designing the security system, the communication systems, and the rest of the IT. More entertainment for me.”

“I bet.”

“I will say Mavis and Leonardo are both very decisive about what they want and need in their work areas. McNab and Peabody are coming to terms with what they want and need in theirs. It’s the rest of the space that seems to fluster them.”

“Did you call in Redheaded Big Tits to work with them?”

Roarke gave her the slow side-eye. “I assume you mean our very qualified and creative interior designer. And she’s consulting, yes.”

“She does good work,” Eve said, and all but exploded out of the elevator on her garage level.

She waited until she was behind the wheel. “Did you ID the thief?”

“I believe Feeney’s, as we speak, giving the investigators all they need.”

“How’d he get in?”

“She was already in. In fact, both were at different times. Two women, identical twin sisters. And very, very clever.”

“Really? Let’s hear it—what I’d understand, I don’t need all the tech and geek stuff.”

“A shame, as it’s nearly brilliant.”

He settled in as Eve drove.

“Two sisters, using one official ID. They’d wiped the second—and quite well—so when Irina Hobbs was vetted and hired by the museum as a curator several months ago, no twin—Iona—existed on record. Irina had all the qualifications, the résumé, and recommendations. A very, very attractive young woman as well, with an encyclopedic knowledge of art. Apparently both of them had that knowledge.”

“Do you know them? Had you heard of them in your … circles?”

“Not a whiff, no, which tells me this was their first major job. They likely pulled off a few others, smaller, less impactful, for practice. In any case it’s clear they both knew their way around security systems—which was not in their official records. But even if they had no more than rudimentary, they could have pulled this one.”

“Why?”

“Irina Hobbs left the museum—it’s clear on the logs and the security feed—at eighteen-oh-five on the night the Monet went missing. She met several friends for drinks and dinner. Her apartment building’s security shows her entering at just before midnight, and not exiting again until zero-eight-sixteen the next morning. In a rush, obviously upset, as she’d just gotten the notification about the Monet. She rushed to the museum, and has cooperated in the investigation fully.”

“Easy to be two places at once if there’s two of you.”

“Exactly so. One of the twins entered the museum an hour before closing. Disguised—wig, face putty, body padding. Well done again. Very well done. She didn’t leave. The investigators missed that initially, as there was a slight glitch in the feed at closing.”

“Which you found they generated?”

“They did indeed. Just a couple of blips as patrons left or were escorted out. By then, she would have been hidden, out of the disguise. They would both have known the building, its crannies, inside out.”

“Plenty of time to study the place, from the inside. Taking turns.”

“Yes, indeed. And no doubt had studied every angle of it beforehand as well. Very good work,” he said in a tone that had her casting her eyes upward.

“And so,” he continued, “one leaves as usual, along with colleagues. The security is set for night duty, locks engaged. But the sister’s inside, and from her location shuts down the system—the whole lot. It must have taken them considerable time to craft the device or devices that so cleanly cut through.”

“You admire that,” she muttered.