Chapter Twenty-two

When Shauna opened the door of Angie Decker's apartment, she looked like someone recovering from a long, enervating illness. She stared at Eve with hope sparking in her deeply shadowed eyes.

"We don't have anything to report yet, and we're sorry to intrude. Could we have a minute?"

"Sure. Of course."

The apartment smelled of flowers—some of which, Eve noted, had been at the memorial. And the apartment felt empty but for the three of them.

"Is Ms. Decker here?"

"No. She had to go to work. People have to start living their lives again." She gestured toward a tablet on the table. "I'm starting an apartment search—trying to because it's hard to imagine…"

Tears swirled. Shauna pressed the heels of her hands against them as if to push them back. She won the struggle, dropped her hands.

"It's just hard. But I can't stay with Angie indefinitely. I—I had next week off anyway, so I'm hoping I can find a place, something in the same neighborhood, and start moving in.

"Is this about ChiChi?"

"Not directly. You should know she's agreed to plead guilty to the assault in exchange for mandatory community service and anger management training."

"Fine. It doesn't matter. It really doesn't matter. I'm sorry, let's sit down."

"Actually, I need to ask you for something."

"All right. Oh, the painting? Glenda told me you wanted to buy one of Erin's paintings. The one she did of the pizzeria. She thought it would cheer me up. It did, a little."

Sitting, she looked around blankly, like someone just waking from a hard sleep.

"Shauna, we need you to come with us, to go through your apartment with us."

"What?" Panic leapt into her eyes. "Why?"

"You're the only one who'll know, for certain, if anything's missing."

"But… Erin wasn't killed there. It wasn't a break-in. I don't understand."

"It's a loose end we need to tie up before we can move to the next stage of the investigation."

"What stage? What stage?" She pushed out of the chair. "We were supposed to be married on Saturday. Do you know what we should be doing today? We should be putting up decorations for the wedding. We should be laughing and arguing about what goes where. And checking with the florist—we didn't order a lot, but we each wanted bouquets, and flowers on the tables we'd set up. Now I have those."

She pointed at the flowers on the table.

"I have those, from her memorial. Now you want me to go back to the apartment where we lived together, made all these plans, where we had a life together?"

"Yes, I do."

"Do you think I killed her?" It wasn't anger, but absolute devastation. "Do you think I'll go there and break down and confess I killed the woman I loved?"

"No. You're not, nor have you ever been, a suspect."

"Then why? How could this possibly help you find who killed her?"

"Because if something's not there that should be, you'll know."

She dropped into a chair again, covered her pale face with her hands. "God, God. I know I'm being stupid about this. I know it's weak, but—"

"It's not stupid," Peabody corrected. "It's not weak. It's grief, and it's human and it's hard. We wouldn't ask if we didn't think it's important."

Dropping her hands, Shauna stared at Peabody. "Becca and Greg have gone in to get some of my things, to clean out the food stuff. And Donna and Angie helped Erin's family get some of her things."

"But you know what they removed," Eve said.

"Yes." Shauna closed her eyes, took a breath. When she opened them again, she looked at Eve. "You really think doing this will matter? Will help you find who killed her?"

"Yes."

"I need to get my purse."

When she walked away, Eve shook her head. "She doesn't believe me, doesn't believe this matters."

"But she's doing it. It's hard for her, but she'll do it."

"Yeah. She's tougher than she looks, but it's going to hurt. Let's make it as quick as possible."

Shauna said nothing as they drove the short distance from apartment building to apartment building. She broke her silence when Eve pulled into a loading zone.

"I bet delivery people hate when you do that."

Eve flipped on her On Duty light. "You win that bet."

Under the circumstances, Eve tolerated the elevator ride to four.

Outside the apartment door, Eve waited while Shauna hesitated.

Peabody laid a hand on Shauna's arm. "Maybe ask yourself what Erin would do."

"She'd go in, get it done."

Shauna unlocked the door, opened it.

"It looks so much like us," she murmured. "Who we were together. She used to say I had all the style, she had all the color, and how frosty it was we were each picking some of the other's up."

Slowly, she walked around the living area.

"I was going to sell the furniture. I'd keep her paintings, and maybe a few little things, but sell the rest. That was wrong. We bought most of this together, or brought it with us from our own spaces. I was going to sell it."

She brushed a hand over the back of the sofa. "But no, no, that's wrong. We'd sit here, watch a vid. We'd have takeaway and sit over there and talk and talk. I thought it would feel empty, but it doesn't. I know I can't live here anymore, but I can take some of what we shared with me."

She turned to Eve and Peabody. "I should've come back before."

"You weren't ready before," Peabody said.

"I didn't think I'd ever be." She wandered a bit more. "Everything's here that should be. Honestly, I don't know what I'm looking for, or why."

"Let's try the bedroom." Her eyes on Shauna, Eve gestured.

"Becca got clothes for me," she said as she walked to the bedroom door. "Toiletries and all that. She picked up what I'd need for making the arrangements, the memorial."

"Outfits, clothes, jewelry?"

"Yes."

"Why don't you start with the jewelry?"

"Fine, but it's not like I—either of us—have anything really valuable. It's mostly costume. We were going to exchange rings, so we—I—have those, but they weren't really expensive."

She opened a drawer. "Here they are," she murmured. "Right here." She opened the ring boxes, brushed a finger over each.

Then she slipped one on the ring finger of her left hand. "I have skinnier fingers." And put the other on the middle finger of her right. "It fits well enough there. Is it just whack that it makes me feel better wearing these?"

Eve said simply, "No."

"I'm going to wear them both. At least for a while, I'm going to wear them both. Okay." She breathed out. "I have these sapphire studs my parents gave me for my twenty-first. It's my birthstone. Most valuable I have, and they're right here."

She went through carefully, piece by piece. "Everything's here, except what Becca brought to me. Erin has more. She has more—not expensive—just more, and I know her parents took some pieces."

"But that's all your jewelry?"

"Yes. Oh, well, no, now that you mention it. I have some sentimental pieces. I don't wear them, but…"

She crouched down, opened the bottom drawer.

Then sitting back on her heels, frowned. "That's funny. Did I move the box?"

Eve cast her mind back to the search the morning after the murder.

"A small red box, hinged lid. A few pieces of jewelry inside."

"Yes, that's right. High school stuff. Nothing I've worn since, really, but—"

"Sentimental," Peabody finished after exchanging a look over Shauna's head with Eve.

"Yeah." She pushed through the other items in the drawer.

Gym clothes, Eve remembered, old sweats, and things you'd wear if you expected to get sweaty or dirty.

"I must've moved it. It's just a few things Greg gave me back in our day. A sweet little ring, some earrings, a necklace. Birthdays, Christmas, Valentine's Day, that kind of thing."

She rose. "I must've put them somewhere else. Maybe the closet."

"No, you didn't. I saw them in that drawer the day after the murder."

"I don't understand." Shauna went to the closet anyway. Rose on her toes to look at the top shelf. "I don't know why Becca would've moved…"

Trailing off, she turned. Color poured into her face. "You think Becca—that's ridiculous, and it's awful. She would never, never hurt Erin. Plus, for fuck's sake, she was onstage with me when… when it happened."

"Tell me who knew where you kept those pieces?"

"Well, I…" She ran a hand over her hair. "I guess everybody could have. I bought the little box years ago, because sentimental. I probably said how I liked looking at them once in a while and remembering those days. I know I said Erin didn't mind and I remember how Jon had. A lot. It was one of the reasons I knew we didn't fit."

As she spoke, she opened more drawers, pawed through.

"They're not worth anything, not really, to anyone but me."

"Peabody. Reo."

"On that." Peabody stepped out.

Her face set now, and with some color back in her cheeks, Shauna turned to Eve.

"You knew something would be missing, and there is. But I don't understand why."

"Shauna, I'm going to ask you some questions, but before I do, I need to trust you. Whatever we say here stays here. You can't and won't contact anyone, speak to anyone about what we say here."

Those blue eyes went hot, went sharp. "You know who killed her. You know." She gestured toward the bed in a gesture as hot and sharp as her eyes. "We slept there together. We didn't just have sex, we slept there, woke there, laughed there, made plans there. On Saturday, we'd have put on the white dresses we bought together, hung in that closet, and we'd have made promises to each other.

"You can trust me, Lieutenant, to not do anything, anything that will stop you from locking up whoever took her from me."

"I believe you. How did Greg react when you started dating Erin?"

Some of the fresh color faded from her cheeks. "You can't possibly—"

"He gave you those pieces," Eve pointed out. "He knew you kept them, correct?"

"Yes. Yes. I—I told him, God, I can't remember when, that I kept Shaunbar in a pretty red box in my bottom drawer. He—he thought it was sweet."

"And when you and Erin started dating, what did he think?"

She reached behind her until she felt the foot of the bed, then slowly sat. "He was surprised, and maybe a little… I don't know, disappointed? You have to understand, his family is very set. Man, woman, husband, wife." She chopped a hand in the air at each word. "They're not mean about it, just set. So he was surprised and maybe disappointed. But—"

"Angry."

Shauna rubbed a hand between her breasts. "I guess, a little. It was more like ‘What the hell,' you know? He thought—at first, he thought—she was a kind of bad influence. I can't remember exactly what he said, but we had a little fight about it."

"You had a fight?"

"More a disagreement, and it was over a year ago. I told him what I did with my life, who I slept with, and so on wasn't any of his business. I was pretty harsh because I was already in love with her and he was so critical. But we made up, he apologized. And he and Erin got along fine. More than. You can't expect me to believe my oldest friend would have…"

"Who else could have taken the box, Shauna? Who else did that jewelry mean anything to?"

"I must've misplaced it. No, no, you said you saw it after… but—"

"Would Erin have trusted him? She wanted to surprise you with something you dreamed of, and Donna was out of town. Would she have trusted him?"

Her eyes went dead. "Yes."

"He knew about Maui. When you were together in high school, the two of you talked about it."

"Yes." Her voice sounded dead as well. "After college. We'd get married after college when we both had jobs. And we'd honeymoon in Maui because I'd wanted that since I was a little girl."

She didn't weep. Her eyes stayed dull and dead, and she didn't weep. "Why wouldn't she trust him? He was my oldest friend. I've known him since middle school."

"Dallas." Peabody spoke from the doorway, then nodded.

"Shauna, we're going to take you back to Angie's. I need you to stay there, and I need you to keep your word."

"Do you think I'd speak to him about this?" She got to her feet. "He knew where I kept the jewelry, and taking it was petty. He can be petty, but that's something you overlook in a friend. She would have trusted him. I trusted him. He always thinks he knows what I should do, what's best for me. I overlooked that, too, or ignored it. And if I got pissed about it, he'd back off, apologize. ‘Just trying to look out for you, Shaunbar.' He'd call me that to make me laugh."

She laid a hand on her heart. "In here, I'm not ready to believe he could do anything like this. But in here?" She touched her other hand to the side of her head. "I can. Oh God, God, I can."

She dropped both hands. "I'll keep my word, but I need yours. You have to tell me, if you prove it's true, you have to tell me right away."

"You have my word."

When they dropped her off, Eve watched her walk inside.

"She won't contact anyone, least of all him. But let's make this as fast as possible, too."

"We got the search warrant for his apartment. When we find the box—and we have to hope like hell he didn't toss it all—"

"He wouldn't. Shaunbar's too important to him."

"Okay. When we find it, we'll get the arrest for robbery."

"Enough to take him in, sweat out the rest. He'll have excuses for taking the box," Eve continued as she drove. "He's going to be sure, at first, he can talk his way out of this. He sells, he manages, and we're just women, after all."

"Then this should be fun."

"Not for him," Eve said, and considered it a stroke of Roarke luck when she zipped into a place right outside the apartment building.

A third-floor unit, almost within shouting distance of where Shauna and Erin lived. No cams, crap security.

She mastered in, hit the stairs.

The soundproofing was better than Shauna's building, but not by much. This time instead of wailing, a baby laughed somewhere on the second floor.

Though she decided it was hard to tell the difference.

On three, she knocked first. "NYPSD, Lieutenant Dallas, Detective Peabody, record on. Please open the door."

When she got no response, she knocked a second time. "Dallas and Peabody entering premises by master for a duly warranted search and seizure."

She mastered in, looked around while Peabody secured the door behind them.

Not too dissimilar from the apartment they'd just been in. More stylish, Eve supposed, not as bold and bright, but a similar footprint.

One of Erin's paintings hung in the living area—a street scene showcasing Barney's men's shop. A gift, no doubt, and now insured for its increased value.

"No clutter," she observed. "No lived-in mess, and well-coordinated. Like a man's suit."

"You could say that," Peabody agreed. "Nothing out of place."

"He wouldn't keep it in a communal area. Bedroom, his space in there."

They took the short hallway, turned.

"Nice and neat, but you can see they've been busy and distracted for a few days—things a little jumbled on this dresser—hers—perfume bottle, little dish with stuff tossed in. This one's his, and that highboy, too, I'd wager. He'll have more than her. Got himself matching shoehorn, clothes brush."

Eve started to the highboy. "One closet, so communal. It won't be there."

"I've got his dresser."

Eve took the highboy. She opened the top drawer first. She had about four inches on Becca, and the drawer hit her about chin level.

Socks, folded, not rolled, and color coordinated in dividers.

She pulled it all the way out.

"Jesus, this was too easy."

"You're kidding!"

"Nope. He slid it in the back of the drawer, behind some red socks."

Eve took it out, opened it. "And here's Shaunbar. Ring, couple pair of earrings, necklace, two bracelets."

She bagged it, sealed, labeled.

"Would he keep the garrote? Hard to believe that, but since we're here."

A few minutes later, Peabody called out, "Not the garrote, but I've got piano wire." Peabody held up the package. "And funny, they don't have a piano."

"Bag it," Eve said, "and let's go bag him."

With, Eve thought when she double-parked in front of the men's shop, as much humiliation as possible.

Several horns blasted as she stepped onto the sidewalk. She ignored them.

The display window showed a couple of fake men. One wore a sharp charcoal suit with needle pinstripes that made her wonder if Baxter shopped there. The other, though it was sweltering August, wore a forest-green sweater with black leather pants.

It had a scarf in dull gold tossed jauntily around its neck.

She stepped in to cool air scented with something between pine and cedar.

Summer stuff—though sweltering August—was displayed on a sales rack or neatly folded on shelves.

Suits, hung in sections by designers, comprised most of one wall. Dress shirts, crisp and folded, were stacked in cubbies. Casual wear took the opposite side, and accessories—ties, cuff links, wallets, belts, and so on—had glass displays in the center.

It boosted her to see one of the staff with a customer while the other approached her with a smile.

"Good morning, ladies—nearly afternoon now! How can I be of service?"

"You can get the manager."

His young, slick, handsome face showed concern. "Oh, is there a problem?"

"Apparently. Where's Greg Barney?"

"He's in the dressing room area with a client. If I could assist—"

"You can, by getting him."

"Of course. Just one moment."

As he hurried off, the shop door opened.

Eve recognized Allisandra Charro, personal shopper, from a case they'd recently closed.

And Charro recognized her.

Beaming smiles, she stepped forward in red stilettos and offered a perfectly manicured hand. "Why, Lieutenant Dallas! We meet at last. I helped you identify a murderous teenager by his Stubens."

"I remember."

"Shopping for Roarke?"

"No. On duty."

"Really? How exciting. I'm just here to make some selections for a client—whom I assume has no murderous intent."

"Good luck with that."

As Barney came out, Eve walked toward him.

"Oh, Lieutenant, Detective. If I'd known— You've charged that terrible woman."

"Yeah, we did. And now it's your turn. Greg Barney, you're under arrest for robbery."

"What? What? That's insane. I've never stolen anything in my life!"

She sort of hoped he'd resist, but apparently he was too shocked to make a fuss as she cuffed him.

"You have the right to remain silent," she began as Peabody flanked him and they started out.

"This is some crazy mistake. Roderick, take over. I'll have this sorted out in no time."

"Bet you don't. You have the right to an attorney and/or legal representation," Eve continued as they walked him out.

"I'd absolutely love to dress you," Charro called out. "More than ever!"

"I take care of that all by myself." She continued the Revised Miranda, and Barney, flushed to the roots of his hair with mortification, continued to protest his innocence.

"This is outrageous!" he began to sputter when secured in the back of the car. "You've embarrassed me at my place of business."

Hope so, Eve thought as she got behind the wheel.

"I'm not a thief. What am I supposed to have stolen? How could you do something like this?"

"With a warrant."

"I don't believe you. I haven't stolen anything, so you can't have a warrant."

"Right here." Helpfully, Peabody held up the warrant she'd printed out on her PPC.

"I assumed the two of you were reasonably competent, but now I see why it took you days to arrest that stripper for Erin's murder."

Peabody started to speak, caught Eve's slight head shake, and let that ride.

"I told you it was some lowlife, and it was. Shauna should never have associated with someone like that, and wouldn't have except for Erin."

Keep talking, Eve thought. Record's on, rights read.

"Now you come into my shop, in front of clients and staff, and drag me out like a common criminal."

"I don't recall any dragging. Do you recall dragging, Peabody?"

"No, sir, I don't. And the record will show no dragging involved. He actually came along fairly meekly." She shifted to smile at him. "Thanks for your cooperation."

"It shows what happens when the flighty are given authority."

"Now we're flighty," Eve observed. "Peabody, we're incompetent, flighty draggers."

"Maybe. But he's the one in cuffs."

Pride swelled in Eve's chest as she pulled into the garage.

"And here we are, home again."

When they got him out of the back, he jutted out his chin.

"I can tolerate mistakes. People make mistakes. But there's no excuse for humiliating me at my workplace. There will be recompense."

"Counting on that," Eve said, and led him into the elevator. "Detective Peabody is going to process you, then we'll have a nice chat, the three of us, in Interview."

"The sooner this is sorted out, the better."

His chin continued to jut as the elevator stopped to let in more cops.

"And once we do, you will come to the shop, apologize to me in front of my staff, and you will contact Mr. Henrich and Ms. Charro and explain your mistake."

One of the cops in the car slid an amused glance in Eve's direction.

"Doesn't know you very well, does he?"

Eve just smiled. "Not yet. He's about to."