Golden in Death(37)

“Oh, I can interview a possible murder suspect even with mag hair.” As they mastered in the entrance doors, Peabody gave her mag hair a little finger flick.

“Don’t do that. Don’t go tossing it around.”

“It’s so soft!” Even as Eve ignored the elevator and started up the stairs, Peabody’s glow didn’t dim. “Trina put some genius product on it, gave me a sample to take home, too. My hair’s thick, but a little coarse, and now—”

Eve stopped, gave Peabody the stony eye. “Another word about it, and I swear to the god of all cops I’ll knock you out and shave your head bald with my penknife.”

“Harsh.”

“Don’t test me.”

Peabody cleared her throat and gamely took the second flight of stairs. Somebody, she thought, had gotten out on the cranky side of the bed. “So Ponti’s new wife…”

“Did a research paper on poisons, aced her way through chemistry.”

“Well, that’s interesting.”

“I’ll add it to the book once we talk to her. Ponti’s alibi holds—he was at the hospital. She wasn’t, but supposedly was waiting for him.”

They started up the third flight, so Peabody began her inner mantra of Loose pants, loose pants. “Probably not in tune with the mad scientist theory, or only part. But yeah, she could’ve been pissed since Abner dissed her husband. They could have worked it out together.”

“I went by the murder scene. No way the killer or an accomplice could or would have hung around to see Abner die. First, you’d have to know just where he’d open the egg in the house to position yourself, and how would you? And even then, there’s just not a good eyeline unless he was right in the front window.”

“Yeah, I guess that was a long shot.”

“I’m going to clear the scene so the family can get back in. Before I do, you could contact the son—I think that’s the way to go—and give him the name of some of the mop-up crews.”

“Sure, I’ll take care of that.”

When they reached the fourth floor, with doors opening and closing below, elevators humming as people rode down to start their day, Eve crossed over to the Ponti-Roe apartment.

Decent security, she thought, like the building was decent. She remembered Ponti’s comments about Abner—rich, private practice—the fact he’d borrowed a beach house from a friend.

Envy often provided the springboard to violence.

She pressed the buzzer. After thirty seconds, pressed it again and held it longer.

“All right, all right!” someone shouted from inside. “Who is it?”

“NYPSD.”

“What? Let me see a badge—you can just hold it up to the peep.”

After Eve accommodated, she heard locks bang open.

Cilla Roe had short, russet-colored hair currently sticking up in every possible direction. She had a sleep crease in her right cheek and shadows under bleary brown eyes.

She wore a pair of striped pajama pants and a faded T-shirt. Her bare feet sported pale blue polish on the toes.

“What’s this about?”

“Dr. Kent Abner.”

“My husband’s already at work. He had an early shift. And didn’t you talk to him already?”

“We’re here to talk to you.”

“Me?” She rubbed her tired eyes. “I didn’t even know Dr. Abner.”

“But you were aware of his conflict with your husband.”

“That?” Now the tired eyes rolled. “Does that really come up to the level of conflict?”

“Would you like to have this conversation in the doorway, Ms. Roe?”

On a little hiss, Roe stepped back, gestured them in. “If I’m going to have a damn conversation on four hours’ sleep, I need coffee. You?”

“We’re good.”

Roe walked across the small living area and into a tiny galley kitchen. After hitting a button on the AutoChef, she waited, then pulled out an oversize mug of coffee.

“Let’s sit down and get this done. I really want to go back to bed.”

She took the single chair, leaving the short sofa for Eve and Peabody.

“Okay, yes, I know about the incident with Milo and Dr. Abner. I’m going to say Milo has about as much tact and diplomacy as I’ve had sleep in the last twenty-four. Which is little. He’s a good emergency doctor, keeps his head and will work like a maniac to try to save a patient. But he doesn’t have a good filter, and says what pops into his head. I like knowing he says what he thinks—but I’m not a patient.”

She drank some coffee, sighed in a way Eve understood. “He told me you checked where he was on the night before Dr. Abner was killed—something about a package, a shipment, the time. I’m sure you’ve confirmed he was still on duty. He ran late with his shift. I was waiting for him because we were going to the beach for a couple days of very welcome R & R.”

“Was anyone here with you while you waited?”

“With me? No, we were going out of town as soon as he got home.”

“Did you see or speak to anyone between nine and eleven P.M.?”

“Why would…” Very slowly, Roe lowered her cup. “Oh my God, do you think I— Why would I kill a man I’d never met? Why would I kill anyone? Milo was tactless—I told him so myself when he told me what happened. He got slapped back for it. You don’t kill someone over that.”