J. Robb - Born In Death

“Woke up. Grabbed one of the lamps for a weapon. The woman, she grabs for her ’link and tries to run, but the guy’s got a different instinct. Protect the cave. Goes out, tangles with the killer. Surprises him maybe. Fight. Bruising on vic’s knuckles indicate he got a couple hits in anyway. Full-contact stun, and he goes down.”

She walked back out, studied the positioning again. “Killer tapes hands and feet, gags him. Doesn’t kill him straight away, then. Why gag him if he’s stunned? Has something to say or do first, then. Questions to ask. Did you tell him what you did to Natalie? Bet you did.”

She did a quick preliminary walk-through. The loft had three bedrooms, as the neighbor said hers did. The largest of them was empty but for more building supplies. The last was set up as an office. But there was no comp unit. She could see where there’d been one, probably covered with a protective cloth when construction was on the slate. There was a coat of dust on the folding table standing as a desk, and a clear spot on it where a computer would have stood.

She was back in the living area studying the open window when Peabody came in.

“Neighbor’s shook, but she’s solid. I let her contact her husband, ask him to come home from work. He left, by the way, about seven this morning. Wit says her husband and the vic here sometimes hit the health club together before work. They obviously didn’t hook up this morning.”

“His TOD’s about an hour after Copperfield’s. Same MO. No comp on premises, no discs.”

“They had something on someone,” Peabody concluded. “Work-related probably. Knew something, heard something, worked on something. That how he got in?” she asked, lifting her chin toward the window.

“It’s been forced. Evac’s here on this level, but he likely exited that way. Could have sent it back up from the ground. We’ll want the sweepers to dust the controls. Won’t be prints, but it keeps them busy.”

She ran through the scene, and her take of it, for her partner.

“Maybe some DNA on the pieces of the lamp, some on the vic’s fists.” Peabody looked down at the body. “Guy was in good shape. Looks like he gave his attacker some trouble.”

“Not enough.”

They left the crime scene in the hands of the sweepers and headed for the accounting firm.

“You know, seeing the kid back there reminded me. How’d the coaching class go last night?”

“It’s not to be discussed,” Eve said. “Ever.”

“Aw, come on.”

“Ever.”

To hide a smirk, Peabody glanced out the side window and looked longingly at a corner glide-cart. “Baby shower’s coming right up. You set?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Or she hoped she was.

“I made her this sweet baby blanket while I was in the weaving mode over the holidays. It’s all rainbow colors. I’m doing these cute little booties and a hat, too. What’d you get her?”

“I don’t know.”

“You haven’t gotten her shower gift yet? Cutting it close.”

“I got a few days.” Considering, Eve glanced over. “You could go buy something to cover it. I’ll pay you.”

“Uh-uh. It’s not right.” Peabody folded her arms. “She’s your oldest friend, your best pal, having her first baby. You have to buy it yourself.”

“Damn it. Damn it, damn it.”

“I’ll go with you, though. We can swing by this baby place she’s been haunting after we hit the offices. Grab some lunch, too, maybe.”

Eve imagined the process of shopping in a baby boutique, and had to fight off a shudder. “I’ll give you a hundred dollars to go on your own.”

“That’s hitting below the belt,” Peabody replied. “But I’m too strong to be bribed. You have to do the thing, Dallas. It’s Mavis.”

“Coaching classes, baby showers, now shopping. Is there no end to the price of friendship?”

Eve put it aside – buried it – and made her way to the main reception area of Sloan, Myers, and Kraus.

In keeping with their service of high-end clients, the area was plush, glass-walled, and full of green, leafy plants. The wide stone-gray counter served as a work area for three receptionists, all of whom wore headsets and worked busily on keyboards. A trio of waiting areas fanned out like sunbeams, boasting deep chairs, media screens, and a selection of entertainment discs.

Eve laid her badge on the counter in front of a three-piece-suited man with streaked blond hair worn in short, tight curls. “I want to see someone in charge.”

He gave her a cheerful smile. “That certainly wouldn’t be me. In charge of a specific department, or altogether in charge?”

“Let’s start small. I want Natalie Copperfield’s and Bick Byson’s supervisors.”

“Let’s see. Copperfield’s Senior Account Exec, Corporate, Foreign and International. That’s this floor. You’ll want Cara Greene. And ah, Byson, Byson. Byson, Bick,” he all but sang as he read his screen. “Vice President, Personal Finance, Domestic. That’s up a level, and it would be Myra Lovitz.”

“We’ll take Greene first.”

“She’s in a meeting.”

Eve tapped her badge. “Not anymore, she’s not.”

“Okay by me. I’ll call through. You want to have a seat?”

“No, just Greene.”

Swank place, Eve thought as she waited. A lot of money came through these doors. And nothing tempted murder so much as lots of money.

Cara Greene wore a dark red suit, and though it buttoned to the throat, it was cut in such a way that showed she had a nice, perky rack. She also had an impatient expression on a smooth, caramel-toned face, and clipped out into reception on ice-pick heels.

“You’re the police?” she demanded and shot an accusing finger at Eve.

“Lieutenant Dallas, Detective Peabody. You’re Greene?”

“That’s right, and you’ve just pulled me out of an important meeting. If my son’s hooked school again, I’ll deal with him. I don’t appreciate the cops coming to my office.”

“We’re not here about your son. We’re here about Natalie Copperfield, and if you’d prefer, you can come to my office. Now.”

The irritation shifted immediately to wariness. “What about Natalie? You’re not going to tell me she’s in any trouble. She’d never break the law.”

“Can we take this into your office, Ms. Greene?”

The expression changed again, and this time there were hints of fear in bottle-green eyes. “Something happened to her? Was there an accident? Is she all right?”

“Your office would be best.”

“Come with me.” Moving fast, Cara skirted around the reception desk, through a pair of glass doors that swished open on her approach. She kept up the brisk pace, past a jungle of cubes where the drones slaved away, past offices where accountants crunched their numbers, to the corner office that suited her position.

She shut the door behind them, turned to Eve. “Tell me fast. Please.”

“Ms. Copperfield was murdered early this morning.”

Her breath hitched, a quick in and out before she held up a hand. She moved, not so briskly now, to a refreshment station along one wall, pulled out a bottle of chilled water. And sank to a chair without opening it.

“How? How? I don’t understand. I should have known something was wrong when she called in sick yesterday and didn’t make this meeting this morning. I should have known. I was so mad at her. This meeting…” She held up her hand again. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. It’s such a shock.”

Before Eve could speak, she lurched to her feet. “Oh, God, Bick. Her fiancé. Does he know? She’s engaged to one of the VP’s in personal finance. He should be upstairs. Oh, God. They’re getting married in May.”

“She worked for you directly?”