Forgotten in Death(65)

“It’s Mavis. What else could it be? Start on the designers. Reo ought to have a warrant on Tovinski’s financials by now. Or soon. And when we have that, we’ll bring him in.”





13





Eve decided to take a chance and jumped off the elevator at Mira’s level. The NYPSD’s top profiler always added some insight. She expected to get pushback from Mira’s admin and started working on a pushback to the pushback that would get her by the dragon and into Mira for ten minutes.

Instead of the dragon, she found a young, chirpy sort behind the admin’s desk.

“Good morning! May I help you?”

She all but sang it.

“I need ten minutes with Dr. Mira.”

“Do you have a session or appointment?”

“No. I have dead bodies. Lieutenant Dallas, Homicide.”

“Oh, oh! Of course! I’m reading The Red Horse Legacy right now! It’s amazing. I was still on Long Island when that happened, but I heard all about it. Let me see if Dr. Mira has a free slot.”

She tapped her earpiece. “Dr. Mira, Lieutenant Dallas is here. She’d like a few moments. Yes, ma’am, thank you.”

She tapped again. “Dr. Mira can see you now. She does have an appointment in fifteen minutes.”

“I’ll keep it short.” Eve stepped to the office door. “What happened to her usual admin?”

“Oh, her daughter went into labor early this morning. It’s so exciting! I’m filling in for her for a few days.”

Too bad it wouldn’t be longer, Eve thought. The chirp would get annoying fast, but the new one was an easy mark.

Inside, Mira sat behind her desk. It was rare to see the calm and elegant Mira frazzled, but that’s what Eve saw now.

“Sorry to add to your day. You must be busy.”

“I’m scattered. My temp is adorable, but not efficient. Or not what I’m used to.” Mira pushed back her rich brown hair, then shook her head. “We thought we had another week, but babies will come when they come. And a new life’s about to come into the world, which is a lovely antidote to what you and I deal with every day.

“So I need to stop whining.”

“That sounded like frustration, which is way different than whining.”

“I’ll take it.” Rising, Mira walked to her AC, and Eve knew flowery tea was coming. “I’ve read your reports—not as thoroughly as I’d like. Alva Quirk—or Alva Elliot Wicker Quirk.”

Thorough enough, Eve thought.

“Actually, I know your time’s short so I’d rather focus on the unidentified remains. I’ve got a solid line on Alva’s case.”

“The Russian gangster.”

“Evidence is circumstantial so far, but it’s piling up.”

“Sit,” Mira said, and took out two delicate cups of girly tea.

She settled in one of her scoop chairs. Though Eve knew appearances deceived, Mira looked as delicate as the china in a suit of pale pink that showed off admirable legs. The shoes with heels like wicked stilettos mirrored the shade.

“I’m not sure how much I can help you there,” she began.

“I have additional data. I know she was between twenty and twenty-five, in good health. Odds are she’d had excellent dental care—straight teeth, no decay. She was wearing—as we found one with her and the sizes match—designer shoes. Classic Prada pumps, according to Harvo. Black leather. I haven’t gotten the report on the jewelry yet, but it didn’t look like costume to me. Subtle stuff, but the real deal. Gold band on the third finger of her left hand, gold earring, a gold neck chain with like little swans forming a heart, a gold analog watch. Watch brand, Bulgari. That’s another high-dollar brand.”

“Yes, it is. So a young woman of means and taste. Nothing overt, but conservative and classic.”

“The fetus was thirty-two weeks, and again in good health at TOD.”

“We can assume the victim had good health care, was seeing a midwife or OB. She was married, or wore a symbol of marriage. Young. Clearly she wanted to deliver a healthy baby, whether she intended to keep it or she was a surrogate for someone else, or she intended to give it up for adoption.”

“Or sell it.”

“Yes, certainly possible. The jewelry and so on may have been down payments. Although—”

“Why go subtle—or boring, as Harvo sees it?”

With the saucer perfectly balanced on her knee, Mira sipped from the cup. “A matter of taste, perhaps. If so, I’d tend to see her as someone who aspired to the subtlety wealth can buy, or who had experience with it. The shoes. I know they were in your report, but can you refresh me?”

Eve took out her PPC, brought the photo of the shoe on-screen.

Mira studied it. “They are a bit boring, aren’t they? You’d expect something with more flair from someone that young. But they’re very practical.”

“That’s debatable.”

Mira laughed, sipped more tea. “A low-heeled pump—practical for a meeting, for instance. Low enough for a woman in her last trimester of pregnancy. Certainly not practical for a visit to a construction site.”

“She dressed up. Subtle, tasteful, low-key, but she dressed up. That pulls me back from the probability she worked on the site. She could have been part of the design team, or part of the architect’s firm. I need to run all that down when I close Alva’s murder. So, maybe she came from work, but she met someone on the site.”