Forgotten in Death(95)

“This is a very upsetting time for you,” Peabody began.

“You know nothing of it. Our reputation has been smeared by this. Our efforts to create a space of beauty and function will be forever besmirched by this woman’s death.”

“Her name was Alva Quirk,” Eve said, voice cold. “And I’d say her family’s finding this a pretty difficult time.”

“Perhaps if her family had done more to preserve family, she wouldn’t have lived on the streets, nor ended up dead in a dumpster.”

“Elinor, please!”

Elinor spared her daughter-in-law a glance. “You will make heroes of them. Your downtrodden and underserved. I have nothing more to say on the subject. So if that’s all—”

“It’s not,” Eve said as Elinor started to rise.

The butler and two women—also in black—filed in carrying trays. A coffee service, a tea service, china.

Without a word, they arranged it all on the table between the sofa and chairs. One of the women poured tea into a cup, passed it to Elinor.

“I’ll do the rest, thank you.” Marvinia rose. “Coffee, tea?”

“Coffee, black,” Eve said. “My partner takes cream and sugar. The Alva Quirk case is closed. Of course, if more information comes to light, we’ll reopen it. We’re here about another murder.”

She took the coffee from Marvinia, but she watched Elinor.

“A woman, early twenties, in the last trimester of pregnancy, murdered on another Singer construction site.”

“Nonsense,” Elinor decreed. “What site? We’ve heard nothing of this, and surely would have.”

“You no longer own the site. Roarke Industries does.”

Elinor managed a smirk. “Then I would suggest you look to your own.”

“That would be a waste of time.”

“I’d expect you to say so. But one does hear what one does hear about Roarke.”

Eve just sipped some coffee. “Since gossip isn’t allowed here, we’ll skip over that.”

She heard Marvinia choke back a laugh.

“But it would be a waste of time because the murder occurred thirty-seven years ago. And Singer was the owner and developer of record.”

“I did hear something about this.” Marvinia spoke again. “Something about human remains found on another development project in Hudson Yards. A woman, you said. And pregnant?”

“That’s right. We’re in the process of identifying her.”

Eve took out her PPC, brought up the sketch. Held it up.

“Oh, poor thing. So young!”

“Does she look familiar?”

“I can’t say I recognize her,” Singer said. “Thirty-seven years. A very long time.”

“She could be anyone.” Elinor dismissed it. “Likely a squatter, one who came to a bad end.”

“We recovered certain items that indicate she wasn’t squatting. My questions, at this point, center on the time frame, her identity, and how her body was concealed.”

“Concealed?” Marvinia shook her head. “I assumed she’d been buried.”

“Not exactly, no. Mr. Singer, you were running the company at that time. Though, of course, Mrs. Singer, you were still very much involved. Do either of you recall an employee or subcontractor going missing?”

“No,” Singer said immediately.

“It was difficult to keep good employees during that time,” Elinor added. “To find and keep the skilled and responsible. Many were transients, or simply unskilled and looking for any kind of work. Most of those didn’t last. We could hardly, considering the circumstances, remember who came and went.”

“It seems a young woman about thirty-two weeks pregnant would be more memorable than most. She was Middle Eastern, in excellent health.”

Singer stared. “How could you know all that? You said you hadn’t identified her.”

“Our forensic anthropologist has examined the remains. As has the chief medical examiner. This woman was shot, three times, with a thirty-two-caliber weapon.”

“Oh my God.” Marvinia pressed a hand to her mouth as her eyes glistened. “The baby. How horrible.”

“Part of your project on this site was a restaurant. The plans included a wine cellar, which required some excavation. We’ve established at the time of the murder, the foundation and the exterior cellar walls were in place. We haven’t located records of the specific work or the building inspections.”

Elinor let out a dismissive huff. “Study your history, girl. There was still considerable turmoil, and the building trade was rife with corruption. Those of us trying to rebuild the city the mobs had done their best to destroy did what we could and how we could. Most building inspectors expected cash payment if they troubled themselves to come to a site. It took months, years, for the system to right itself.”

“But you remember this project? Bardov was, again, a financial partner.”

“If you believe Yuri Bardov had some pregnant girl killed, speak to him.”

“I have, and I will again. Now I’m speaking to you. You remember this project, Mr. Singer?”

“I do, of course. We were more focused, and further along with the River Park project, the signature tower—which we’re proud still stands. The site you’re speaking of was more of a mix of quickly constructed affordable housing and commercial spaces. All making use—on both sites—of what we’d begun before the Urbans.