Golden in Death(111)
“No smirk,” she commented. “Not so smug. Pissed more than scared, but not so smug.”
She looked around the perfectly ordered living area, more showroom than home to her eye, with its navy gel sofa, its white accent chairs, polished steel tables, and splashy modern art.
“We’re going to find something,” she mumbled. “Something he thinks he’s stashed away where we won’t find it, but didn’t think he needed to get rid of or hide somewhere else.”
“He didn’t even ask about the charges,” Peabody pointed out. “Especially the last one. The third murder.”
“That’s right. He’s trying to work out how we found Cosner so fast. He thinks he’s covered on that. He’ll have a safe, at least one. We’ll get into that. But he’s got some hidey-hole, something a little trickier. Let’s find it.”
She started in the bedroom, as she found people generally considered that their safe space. She found the safe, spent several tense and sweaty minutes bypassing the locks, only to find nothing of particular interest inside. Man jewelry, some cash, his passport.
Feeney walked into the closet. “That’s a decent safe. You bypass?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re picking things up, kid. And speaking of Roarke, you said how he said Whitt didn’t know much about comps? I’m here to tell you, he don’t know dick. Had the unit in his home office passcoded so weak Mavis’s toddler could’ve gotten through. A couple of basic filters you can poof just giving them a hard stare.”
“I take it you’re in.”
“Oh, we’re in.” Feeney took a bag of candied almonds from his baggy pocket, offered some. “Mostly business on it. Financial gobbledygook for clients. Roarke could figure it, or we’ll bring in a forensic accountant, but it looks legit. Here’s what’s not on there. Any of his personal finances.”
“Roarke looked at those. Suspects some money laundering. Cash outlays that don’t make sense.” Frowning, she sat back on her heels. “You’re saying he doesn’t have any personal stuff on there?”
“Not money-wise. I’m guessing he didn’t know enough to keep two sets of books.”
“Add arrogance. Hidey-hole.” She scanned the closet. “There has to be one. Maybe a false wall. Let’s—”
“I’ve got it! Woot!”
At Peabody’s call, Eve scrambled up, and found her partner on her hands and knees at the foot of Whitt’s bed.
Obviously pleased, Peabody actually wiggled her butt. “That rug was over it. I thought, well, you never know, took a peek under, and hey, I did know. Secret compartment in the floor. It’s really well done, custom work. With a thumbprint lock.”
Eve calculated how much time it would take to bypass, walked to the door, shouted, “I need a crowbar.”
Pleased shifted to seriously distressed as Peabody pressed a hand to her heart. “Aw, Dallas, the flooring’s gorgeous.”
“Suck it up.”
And she rolled her shoulders, imagining the pleasure of prying up floorboards.
* * *
By nine Eve sat in her office with Reo, going over the evidence gathered. Reo sat back in Eve’s desk chair, enjoyed the very fine coffee.
“I don’t believe the PA’s office will be inclined to offer any sort of deal to Mr. Whitt, and in fact will push, and push hard, for the maximum on all charges.”
“I should fucking hope so.”
Reo only smiled. “He’s got three high-powered criminal attorneys just waiting to tear the arrest to shreds. They’ve already filed to have the charges dismissed, and filed for false arrest. They’ll be pulling strings while we’re in Interview. That’ll be Kobast, Broward Kobast, in Interview. I’m going to join you and Peabody, and I’m going to enjoy— No,” she corrected. “Let me say I’m going to relish being part of knocking them down, several pegs.”
“Gone up against them before?”
“Two of the three. You win some, you lose some.” Reo shrugged. “This one’s a win.”
Peabody came to the door. “Whitt and his attorney are in Interview A. His other attorney’s up with the commander. I don’t know where number three is.”
“She’s probably arguing for the dismissal.” Reo rose, faked dusting off her navy suit. “Let’s go disappoint all of them.”
Eve hauled the evidence box off her desk and led the way.
Peabody opened the door to Interview A.
“Record on. Dallas, Lieutenant Eve, Peabody, Detective Delia, Reo, APA Cher, entering Interview with Stephen Whitt and his designated legal representative Broward Kobast. This interview is re charges against Mr. Whitt stemming from case numbers H-4945-1, H-4952-1, H-4963-1.”
“My client will exercise his right to silence, so you will speak to me. He also, of course, disputes all of these injurious charges. We’ve filed for their immediate dismissal, and have filed charges of harassment and false arrest against the NYPSD and you personally, Lieutenant.”
Kobast looked like an elder statesman, with his shock of white hair, his trim white beard, the contrasting slash of black brows over crystal blue eyes.
Eve said, “Okay,” and took her seat. “Maybe your client would like to state his whereabouts last night from eight to ten P.M.”