Chapter 9

FLOOR FORTY-FIVE SHIFTED THE MOOD TO calm and plush with warm colors, thick rugs, leafy plants, and stylish waiting areas.

A six-foot blonde in towering heels and a short black suit greeted Eve with a pleasant, professional smile.

“Officer?”

“Lieutenant Dallas, Detective Peabody.”

“Lieutenant. I’m Tuva Gunnarsson, Mr. Young-Sachs’s admin. May I ask what this is in reference to?”

“Police business.”

“Yes, of course.” The smooth voice and manner didn’t ripple. “If you’ll come with me.”

How the blonde managed to glide on the stilts seemed like magic, but glide she did, through the waiting area, through glass doors into a window-walled corridor, all the way to the wide double doors. She opened them both with a kind of flourish into her boss’s big, swanky office.

More glass, more plush in two conversation areas, a slick silver wet bar, three wall screens, and a command console in that same slick silver backed by a high-backed leather chair in fresh-blood red.

“Mr. Young-Sachs will be with you in a moment. Can I get you anything?” She opened a wall panel to reveal a kitchen area, complete with full bar and a gleam of ruby-colored glassware.

“No, thanks. How long have you worked here?”

“Six years, four as Mr. Young-Sachs’s admin.”

“What’s his title?”

“He serves as CFO. Ms. Young remains CEO. She’s currently out of the country.”

“So I heard. And Biden?”

“Mr. Biden is COO. Mr. Biden Senior is retired.” Her face changed subtly as she glanced toward the door. Eve detected a bump of heat as the boss walked in.

She could all but smell the cool admin’s pheromones pump out.

Late thirties, Eve concluded. Poster boy handsome in the requisite excellent suit. He had a rich man’s tan, a gym-fit body, and a quick, crooked smile women probably found charming.

He also had the pinprick pupils of the high if not the mighty.

“Sorry for the wait. Carter Young-Sachs.” He took Eve’s hand, squeezed it rather than shook, did the same with Peabody. “Let’s have a seat. Tuva, how about some of your amazing coffee. She does something special.”

He winked.

“I’m sorry, they didn’t give me your names.”

“Lieutenant Dallas, Detective Peabody.”

“I thought I recognized you.” He wagged a finger, and the carved band on his middle finger glinted. “Roarke’s wife and the center of some Hollywood in New York excitement. Ty and I are going to the premiere. Tuva, we’re entertaining celebrities here.”

“Police,” Eve corrected. “We’re not here to be entertained or for the amazing coffee.”

“Might as well have some. I’m looking forward to the premiere, especially now that I’ve had this chance to meet both of you.” He settled back, spread his hands, every movement just slightly exaggerated with that chemically induced energy. “And what can I do for you?”

“Are you acquainted with Marta Dickenson?”

“Doesn’t strike a bell. Tuva?”

“She was the auditor from Brewer, Kyle, and Martini. She was killed.”

“Oh. Right.” He maneuvered his face into serious lines for a moment. “Old Man Brewer called me personally about that. Slipped my mind. She wasn’t the original auditor. That was...”

“Chaz Parzarri,” Tuva supplied as she brought out a tray of coffee.

“Right. Nice guy. He had some kind of accident. Bad luck for Brewer and the rest.”

“Can you tell me where you were night before last from nine to midnight?”

“Night before last?” He looked as if she’d asked where he’d been five years before, on a Tuesday, at two-fifteen sharp.

“You attended Poker Night at your club. Your driver picked you up at seven,” Tuva told him.

“Right, right. I couldn’t win a damn thing. Just tanked, but what the hell, all for a good cause.”

“What time did you leave the club?” Eve asked.

“I’m not sure. Since I got my butt kicked, I left early. Maybe nine-thirty or ten.”

“And you went home.”

“Well, no.” He glanced at Tuva, shrugged. “I went by Tuva’s place. I could tell you we worked late, but, hell, we’re all adults here. I’m not sure when I left.”

Color high, Tuva stood very straight. “At just before one in the morning.”

“She’d know.” He offered that quick, crooked grin, another wink. “No big deal. We’re both single. Hey, Ty, come meet the city’s own Lieutenant Dallas and Peabody.”

Another poster boy, dark to Young-Sachs’s light with the broody, sulky looks some women found as appealing as the crooked grin. He dropped down in a chair as if exhausted.

“Tuva, how about another cup here? I could use some coffee.” He gave Eve a subtle smirk. “So, hunting for clones?”

“For killers,” she countered. “Marta Dickenson’s killers.”

“Who?”

Once again, Tuva gave the information, and brought the fresh cup.

“I don’t see what that has to do with me—us. Sorry about the woman, but they’ll just put another number-cruncher on it.”

“I’d like your whereabouts from nine to midnight, night before last.”

He rolled his eyes, but pulled out his date book. “I took the corporate shuttle down to South Beach, to a party. You wanted to do that poker thing,” he said to Young-Sachs. “Said you were feeling lucky. He lost.” Biden jerked a thumb at his associate. “I got lucky. Came back about ten yesterday morning.”

“We’ll need to verify both of your alibies.”

“Over some accountant?” For the first time, Biden showed some interest and annoyance.

“Yes, over some accountant who was, at the time of her murder, conducting an audit on your company, and whose office was broken into last night. Her copies of your files were taken.”

“For crap’s sake. That can’t be good.” As if unsure, Young-Sachs looked at Tuva.

“You would be wise to immediately inform your financial advisers and your lawyers,” Tuva began. “To change all passcodes, to—”

“What the hell kind of dick-all security do they have over at... Where the hell is it?”

“Brewer, Kyle, and Martini,” Tuva supplied.

“We’re firing their asses, you can bank on it.”

“We aren’t clients,” Tuva told him. “They were assigned by the courts.”

“Then get the damn lawyers, and get somebody who’s not a fucking idiot assigned.”

“Are you aware,” Eve put in, “that Marta Dickenson’s body was found by Bradley Whitestone, outside of the building under remodeling for the WIN Group?”

“Goddamn it, get Rob on the ’link,” Biden ordered. “And give Roarke’s get-out-of-jail-free card here the names of our lawyers. We’re done.”

Eve rose slowly, and whatever he saw in her face had Biden shifting. “No offense.”

“Considerable taken. You want to be careful about offending cops, Mr. Biden, especially when you’re mired in a murder investigation.”

“Talk to the lawyers. I’m done.” He shot to his feet. “And get Rob now, send it to my office.” He stormed out.

“I apologize,” Young-Sachs began. “Ty tends to lash out when he’s upset.”

“Interesting. Someone certainly lashed out at Marta Dickenson. Thanks for the coffee. We’ll be in touch.”

“It was really good coffee,” Peabody murmured as they walked back to the elevator.

“Chocolate. Just a little chocolate in the coffee.”

“Are you sure?”

“I know chocolate.”

“Well, damn. I’m off sweets until after the premiere. It doesn’t count, right, because I didn’t know it was there.”

“Right.” Eve stepped on the elevator, muttered, “Asshole.”

“I know. Both of them, really, but Young-Sachs was kind of a benign asshole. Maybe due to being a little high.”

“Which makes him stupid as well as an asshole. The admin knows more than both of them put together. She’s hot for the boss. She’d lie for him, no question. But he hasn’t got the belly for murder. Not in person anyway. The other? He could order it up like lunch.”

“I’ll start runs on them.”

“You do that. Next up. Alexander and Pope.”

The offices of Alexander and Pope opted for fussy dignity. Heavy furniture, art in thick gold frames—lots of paintings of people riding horses with dogs running alongside.

Everybody spoke in hushed tones in reception, as they might in a surgical waiting room.

But as Eve and Peabody were escorted back, she heard the busy sound of ’links beeping, voices dealing, feet scurrying.

Sterling Alexander’s office reflected his reception area with its deep tones, deep cushions, gracefully faded carpets, ornately framed art.

He sat at his desk, a prosperous-looking man with dark hair. The perfect touches of elegant white at the temples added distinguished to his sharply chiseled features.

He gestured Eve and Peabody to chairs with a flick of his hand, and dismissed his silent assistant the same way.

“Pope will be here momentarily. I’ve already spoken to Stuart Brewer, and to Jake Ingersol—you know who they are. I’ve also spoken with our legal counsel. I understand you have a job to do, procedure to follow, but my partner and I must act quickly to protect our company, our investors.”

“Understood. Were you acquainted with Marta Dickenson?”

“No. We worked with Chaz Parzarri. His supervisor informed us he’d been seriously injured while out of town, and our audit—which is required by our bylaws—would be taken over by this Dickenson woman. Then we’re told she’s been killed. And now the office is compromised and our confidential financial data stolen. It’s obvious what’s happened.”

“Is it?”

“Parzarri’s accident must have been engineered so this woman could get her hands on our data. Whoever did that, dealt with her. One of our competitors, I suspect.”

“Do you have competitors that aggressive?”

“It’s an aggressive market, as you should know as your husband is certainly fully involved in real estate.”

“It seems unnaturally aggressive to put one auditor in the hospital and murder another just to access financial data. But,” she said before he blustered in, “we’re investigating all avenues. As we are, I need to ask where you were on the night of the murder.”

A red flush bloomed across his cheekbones. “You would dare?”

“Oh, I would. If you refuse to answer, which is your right, I’ll take that in a way you wouldn’t care for.”

“I don’t like your attitude.”

“I get that a lot, don’t I, Peabody?”

“Yes, sir, you do.”

“Young woman—”

“Lieutenant,” Eve slapped back.

Alexander’s chest heaved twice. “My father founded this firm before you were born. And I’ve run it for the last seven years. We brokered the governor’s country home.”

“That’s nice. I still need to know your whereabouts. It’s routine, Mr. Alexander. It’s not personal.”

“It’s personal to me. I took my wife and a few friends to dinner at Top of the Apple.”

“That would be after you met Jake Ingersol of the WIN Group for drinks.”

Like Galahad before breakfast, Alexander stared holes in her.

She wasn’t tempted to offer him bacon.

“Yes. We discussed business that I have no intention nor obligation to disclose to you. I returned home to meet my wife, and the car took us to the restaurant for our eight o’clock reservations. We didn’t leave until nearly midnight.”

“Okay.”

There was a soft tap, something like a mouse scratch at the door.

“Come!” Alexander boomed out, and the mouse scuttled in.

“I’m sorry I was held up.”

The painfully thin man with a long face flanked by enormous ears offered Eve a soft-palmed hand. “Lieutenant Dallas, I recognize you. And Detective Peabody. It’s very nice to meet you, and before the premiere. My wife and I are looking forward to it. And you and Zelda, too, Sterling.”

“We don’t have time for small talk,” Alexander snapped.

“Of course. I’m sorry. I’m Thomas Pope.”

“We need to get this mess sorted out, Tom.”

“I know.” Pope held up his hands. “I know. I’ve contacted everyone we discussed. It’ll be all right, Sterling.”

“Someone’s trying to sabotage us.”

“We don’t know that. Don’t upset yourself. We weren’t the only account taken. And a woman’s dead. She’s dead.” He glanced at Eve. “She had two children. I heard that on the media report.”

“Yes. I need to ask you your whereabouts on the night she was killed.”

“Oh. My. Of course, of course. I was home. We spent the evening at home, my wife and I. Our daughter was out with friends. We worry. She’s sixteen. It’s very worrying. We stayed in all evening, and our daughter came home at ten—on time.” He smiled when he said it.

“Did you see or speak with anyone that evening, other than your wife and daughter?”

“Ah... Actually, I spoke to my mother. Our mother,” he corrected, glancing at Alexander. “We’re half-brothers.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, I meant to tell you, Sterling, but everything’s been so upside down, I forgot. I spoke with my mother, and, oh yes, my on-the-right neighbor. When I walked the dog.” Every sentence contained a hint of apology. “I forgot to say I went out and walked the dog. We have a dog. And my neighbor and I usually walk our dogs together when we can. We did. About nine o’clock.”

“All right. Thank you. This audit, it’s required by your bylaws?”

“It is,” Alexander confirmed. “My father wrote it in when he formed the company. He believes in full accounting.”

“It’s a way to keep your house clean.” Pope cleared his throat. “My mother always says that. She initially joined the firm as an associate, then became full partner. Though she and Mr. Alexander Senior parted ways on a personal level, they remained business partners until their mutual retirement.”

“There’s no need to wave around family business,” Alexander snapped out.

“It’s interesting,” Eve countered. “Has there ever been any problems with previous audits?”

“Absolutely not.” Pope spoke first, then winced as he glanced at his half brother. “I don’t mean to speak out of turn, but while there have been a few minor issues, immediately resolved, we’re very proud to run that clean house.”

“Any chance I could get copies of those previous audits?”

“Absolutely not.” This time Alexander spoke first, and with an entirely different tone. “Now that’s all the time we can spend on this. Look to competitors. It’s obvious this woman got caught up in something that cost her her life. We’re the victims here.”

“Yeah. You’re the victims. Thanks for your time.”

Eve bared her teeth when she and Peabody rode down to the lobby.“Another asshole.”

“The world’s full of them. You’d never know by looking or listening to the two of them that they’re related.”

“Alexander doesn’t consider them related. He considers Pope a pain in the ass when he’s not considering him a go-fer. And Pope knows it. Alexander’s playing the victim card, and hard—and that buzzes for me. And Pope’s just a little too self-effacing.”

She replayed the interview in her head as they crossed the lobby. “Alexander plays the big deal, but his ’link didn’t ring while we were in there, and you can bet your ass he didn’t order a hold on communications for us. Pope’s pocket ’link hummed two different times.”

“I didn’t notice. I did notice how clear Alexander’s desk was. No work on it.”

“I bet Pope does most of the down-and-dirty work, the inside work, while the other plays big-shot. Doing the down-and-dirty gives you a lot of access.”

“He doesn’t seem the type to steal, cheat, and kill.”

“A lot of people who steal, cheat, and kill don’t, Peabody. That’s why they steal, cheat, and kill until we catch them. Let’s hit the next.”

···

The offices of Your Space spread over a two-level downtown lot. Eve figured a family of four could live there comfortably, particularly as the design reflected a home rather than a work space.

Seating ranged around a sparkling fireplace topped with a mantel holding candlesticks and flowers. A second seating area aimed toward the wide window. In this second space a woman demonstrated something on a tablet to a young couple who appeared to be engrossed.

Rather than security, assistants, or hard-eyed admins, one of the four founders of the firm greeted Eve and Peabody personally.

“Latisha Vance.” The tall, ebony-skinned knockout offered a brisk handshake. “Angie’s with some new clients, but I have some time. We can talk upstairs if you like. Can I get you anything? We have some fresh cookies. They’re deadly.”

“No, thanks,” Eve said over Peabody’s quiet moan. “Are your other partners available?”

“Both Holly and Clare are out on jobs. I expect both of them back before long.” She led them up floating stairs painted candy pink. “You’re here about the woman who was killed, Marta Dickenson.”

“That’s right.”

“I talked to Mr. Gibbons that day, and he explained about the accident, and assured me it wouldn’t cause any delays.”

“Had you ever met or spoken to Mrs. Dickenson?”

“Yes.” Latisha walked them past a bedroom and into a spiffy, organized office where a woman worked at a computer station topped with shelves. “I’m sorry, Kassy, I need the room.”

“No problem. I’ll pick it up in the sitting room.”

Latisha sat on a curvy gray chair as the woman slipped out. “Kassy’s our office manager. Yes, I met Marta. The four of us went into the Brewer offices before we hired them. We like to get a feel for things. We liked the feel there, quite a bit. We liked Marta, and hoped she’d be able to take on our account, but at that time she didn’t have room for us. Jim’s great though, and we’re hoping he makes a full recovery, and quickly. But Mart... I just talked to her a week ago.”

“About?”

“Her hiring us.”

“For?”

“We organize. When Angie and I started, just the two of us, we focused on private homes—rooms, really. Going in, designing a system, helping the client purge, and that can be a challenge, redesigning the space if necessary, and so on. It was the Angie and Tisha show for about six months, then Holly and I started talking at the gym.”

Latisha shifted, crossed well-toned legs. “She worked for an interior designer, and was considering going out on her own. Instead, she came in with us. Angie brought in Clare who was, in fact, an office manager. She opened us up to helping organize, reorganize, redesign office spaces. This space was Clare’s idea.”

She gestured to indicate the loft. “Offices don’t have to look like offices to be productive and efficient, and we’d also be able to show clients what can be done, how much productivity and comfort they can pack into their space without clutter.

“Sorry, that was off topic.”

“No, it’s good to know.”

“Marta contacted me. She wanted to surprise her husband, redo his home office space and their bedroom. We’d set up an appointment to go look at the site. Angie and I were to meet her there next Monday.”

“Did you speak with her after she took over your audit?”

“No. I intended to e-mail her the next day, just to touch base. We were all concerned for Jim, and I wanted to give her a little time to acquaint herself with our file. And then...”

“You’ve been in business about five years?”

“As we are now, yes.”

“Business is good.”

“It is.” She brightened up again. “Most people don’t know how to get started, how to let go, repurpose, reimagine. That’s what we do.”

“And this audit is due to a potential merger.”

“That’s right. We were approached by a company that designs and makes organizing equipment and tools. They do a nice online business, but haven’t been able to keep up more than a small storefront otherwise. What they need is an influx of cash, and a connection. We’re in talks about merging them into Your Space. Before we move to the next step, we wanted solid figures, ours and theirs, so we insisted on full audits. If we do this, it’s a big step. It would mean expanding, finding a retail and office space for that new end of the business, staffing it. We need to be sure we’re ready, financially, and both parties have to be sure the foundation’s there.”

“Your financial adviser is on board with this?”

“Fully aware, yes, and was working with Jim. I know, too, from the media reports that Marta’s body was found right there, at the new WIN building. It’s... disturbing to have so many connections to murder.”

“You work with Jake Ingersol at WIN.”

“Yeah. A lot of energy,” she said with a smile. “Enthusiasm. We always say we feel like we could organize the world after a session with Jake. Angie talked to him just... Here she is.”

The compact brunette moved quickly, striding in, sticking out a hand to Eve, then Peabody. “Angie Carabelli. I have to say it’s great to meet you even though it’s terrible. Our goal around here is to organize Roarke World.”

“Angie.” Latisha winced.

“Oh, come on, it’s a fact. We’re all so sorry about Marta. We liked her, and we were looking forward to working with her. What do you need to know?”

“We can get this out of the way if both of you can tell me where you were on the night of the murder, from nine to midnight.”

Angie looked at Latisha. “Don’t you get tired of always being right?”

“No.”

“Tisha said the cops would come, and they’d ask that exact question. I said, They will not. Why? And she said—”

“Connections,” Latisha finished.

“So we talked about it, all of us.”

“To get your stories straight,” Eve said mildly.

“God, that’s just what that sounded like.” Angie let out a choked laugh. “No, just to prepare, especially since the reports said you were in charge, though we still figured you’d just send some other detectives. But I was hoping you’d come because I have this Roarke goal. Professionally,” she added with a smile.

“If it’s in Angie’s head,” Latisha put in, “it generally comes out of her mouth.”

“That’s true. Why hedge? It’s not efficient. And here you are, asking the question. I prepared but it still made my stomach jump.”

“Why don’t I take this?” Latisha suggested. “We were all here—all five of us—until about nine-thirty. We had an after-hours staff meeting, and Clare made Irish stew.”

“She likes to cook,” Angie put in. “Kassy left first. She got married last September and wanted to get home to her honey. Then Holly left to meet this guy she’s been seeing. He was taking her dancing. Nobody takes me dancing. She looked completely iced, didn’t she, Tisha?”

“She did. Angie and Clare left together.”

“We shared a cab. We live in the same building. One of our neighbors was having a party, so we hit that.”

“And I locked up, went home because I currently have no life,” Latisha finished. “I walked. It’s only five blocks.”

“I wish you wouldn’t walk alone at night,” Angie admonished.

“I have a black belt in karate, and I carry Back-Off. I was in bed by eleven. Alone.”

“Your own fault. If you gave Craig another chance, I think—”

“Angie, I don’t think Lieutenant Dallas or Detective Peabody are interested in my lack of sex life at the moment.”

“Everybody’s interested in sex, right?” She grinned at Peabody.

“It’s hard to argue that.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

Peabody blinked. “All right.”

“Was it totally surreal investigating the murder of the woman who plays you in the vid? She sort of looked like you, especially in the publicity shots. It had to be really weird.”

In her curvy chair, Latisha just sighed.

“It was strange, yes.”

“And a total scandal, which just adds delicious juice—don’t roll your eyes, Tisha, it does. I’d kill to go to the New York premiere. I don’t mean literally,” she said quickly. “I’m sorry. I’m actually nervous, and I don’t get nervous. I have no nerves, except now I do. I’ve never been interviewed by the police. And then it’s you, the Icove police. And Roarke’s cop. And God, I’m sorry, but I seriously love your boots,” she said to Peabody.

“Thanks. I do, too.”

Latisha rose, got a bottle of water from a cabinet, handed it to her friend. “Sip, breathe. Breathe, sip.”

“Thanks.” She breathed, she sipped. “We’re some smart, ambitious women who put their heads and talents together and made something. And we’re working on taking that up a level. We do good work, we make a good living, and we have a lot of fun doing it. And we’re really sorry about what happened to Marta.”

Latisha reached over, gave Angie’s hand a squeeze. “That’s about it.”

“Just a couple more things,” Eve put in. “You’re aware of the break-in at Brewer’s company?”

“Yes. Mr. Brewer called us personally, about an hour before you came,” Latisha told Eve. “It feels as if they’re getting slammed over and over.”

“Will the theft of your financial files cause you any problems?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so. We’re a relatively small outfit, and what’s in the files would’ve been shared with the reps of the company we’re considering merging with. It’s a problem because it may hold up the merger, but we’re not in a hurry.”

“We want to take our time with that,” Angie added. “It feels like a good fit, but so did those fabulous shoes I bought last week, and ended up giving to Clare after they put blisters on my blisters. You know what I’m saying?”

Peabody had to grin. “Oh boy, do I.”

“In any case,” Latisha continued, “Kassy talked to Jake about it. The upshot is, we’ve been smart and clean, so if the data gets out, it’s all good. And we’ve already changed all our passcodes, alerted our credit companies, and so on. It sounds like someone’s screwing with Brewer more than with us.”

···

Not assholes,” Peabody concluded as she climbed back into the car.

“No, but not assholes also cheat, steal, and kill.”

“I don’t see any motive.”

“Maybe there’s something off with this merger. Maybe one of them’s skimming and the others don’t know about it.” Eve shrugged. “I don’t get a buzz either, but the connections are there.”

“I liked them. I wonder how much they charge. McNab and I could use some organizing at our place.”

At the moment, Eve was more interested in organizing her notes and her brain. “I’ve got a consult with Mira coming up, and I want to put some of this together before we hit the WIN partners again. You start checking alibis, top to bottom. I’m going to reach out to Vegas PD, see what there is to see on this accident that started this ball rolling.”