J. Robb - Creation In Death

The waitstaff, men in formal white suits, women in short, full-skirted black dresses, moved from table to table serving drinks from trays. The patrons were decked out in black tie, retro suits, sleek gowns of the type that had been in Sarifina’s closet, or elaborate and frothy ones.

Elegance and sophistication were the bywords, and Eve was mildly surprised to see tables of people in their twenties, straight through to those who had, no doubt, celebrated their centennial.

Music pumped out from the band on the glossy black stage. Or maybe “orchestra” was the term, she thought, as there were at least twenty of them with strings, horns, a piano, drums. And the swinging beat had couples massing over what was the centerpiece of the club. The dance floor.

Black and silver, the large pattern of squares gleamed and sparkled under the shimmering lights of slowly revolving mirror balls.

“This is, like, ultimately uptown,” Peabody commented. “Extreme.”

“Everything old is new again,” Roarke said, scanning the club. “You’ll want the assistant manager here, a Zela Wood.”

“You have all your employees’ names at the tips of your fingers?” Eve asked.

“No, actually. I looked up the file. Name, schedule, ID photo. And…” He zeroed in. “Ah, yes, that would be Zela.”

Eve followed his direction. The striking woman wore pale gold that glowed against skin the color of good, strong coffee. Her hair was worn in long, loose waves that tumbled around her shoulders, down her back. She covered a lot of ground quickly, Eve noted, and still managed to glide as if she had all the time in the world.

It was obvious she’d seen and recognized the big boss as her eyes-nearly the same color as her dress-were fixed on him. Her fingers skimmed the silver rail as she climbed the steps toward him.

“Ms. Wood.”

“How lovely.” She offered him a hand and a dazzling smile. “I’ll have a table arranged right away for you and your party.”

“We don’t want a table.” Eve drew Zela’s eyes to hers. “Let’s see your office.”

“Of course,” Zela said without missing a beat. “If you’ll just come with me.”

“My wife,” Roarke said and got an automatic scowl from Eve, “Lieutenant Dallas, and her partner, Detective Peabody. We need to talk, Zela.”

“Yes, all right.” Her voice remained as smooth as the cream that might be poured in that strong, black coffee. But worry came into her eyes.

She led the way past the coat check, the silver doors of rest rooms, then used a code to access a private elevator.

Moments later, they stepped out into the twenty-first century.

The room was simply and efficiently furnished, and reflected business. All business. Wall screens displayed the club, various areas-which included the kitchen, wine cellar, and liquor storage area. The desk held a multi-link, a computer, and a tray of disc files.

“Can I offer you anything to drink?” Zela began.

“No, thanks. You know Sarifina York?”

“Yes, of course.” The worry deepened. “Is something wrong?”

“When did you last see her?”

“Monday. We have our Monday teas geared toward our older patrons. Sarifina runs those, she has such a knack for it. She’s on from one to seven on Mondays, and I take the evening shift. She left about eight, a little before eight, I think. I asked because she didn’t show on Wednesday.”

Zela glanced at Roarke, pushed at her hair. “Tuesdays are her night off, but she didn’t come in Wednesday. I covered. I just thought…”

Zela began to fiddle with the necklace she wore, running her fingers over the sparkling, clear stones. “She had a breakup with the man she’s been seeing, and she was down about it. I thought they might have picked things up again.”

“Has she missed work without notice before?” Eve asked.

“No.”

“Are you saying that to cover?”

“No. No. Sari’s never missed.” Now Zela’s gaze latched onto Roarke’s face. “Never missed, and that’s why I covered for her initially. She loves working here, and she’s wonderful at her job.”

“I understand and appreciate that you’d cover a night for a friend and coworker, Zela,” Roarke told her.

“Thank you. When she didn’t show Thursday, and I couldn’t reach her, well, I’m not sure if I was annoyed or worried. A combination of both, really, so I contacted her sister. Sari had her sister listed as contact person. I didn’t contact your office, sir. I didn’t want to get her in trouble.”

Zela’s breath trembled as she drew it in. “But she is in trouble, isn’t she? You’re here because she’s in trouble.”

It was going to be a kick in the face, Eve knew. It was always a kick in the face. “I’m sorry to tell you, but Sarifina is dead.”

“She’s…what? What did you say?”

“You should sit down, Zela.” Taking her arm, Roarke nudged her gently into a chair.

“You said…she’s dead? There was an accident? How…” Those pale gold eyes gleamed with wet and shock.

“She was murdered. I’m sorry. You were friends?”

“Oh, God. Oh, God. When? How? I don’t understand.”

“We’re looking into that, Ms. Wood.” Eve let her gaze drift briefly to Roarke as he walked to a wall panel, and opening it chose a bottle of brandy from the selection of liquors. “Can you tell me if anyone bothered her or seemed unusually interested in her?”

“No. No. I mean, a lot of people were interested in her. She’s the sort of person who interests people. I don’t understand.”

“Did she complain about anyone bothering her, or making her uncomfortable?”

“No.”

“Drink a bit of this.” Roarke pressed a glass of brandy into Zela’s hand.

“Has anyone come in, asking questions about her?”

“Just tonight, a few hours ago, a police detective. He said, he told me that Sari’s sister had reported her missing. And I thought…” Tears spilled now. “I honestly thought Sari’s sister was overreacting. I was a little worried, a little, because I thought she’d gone back to the ex, and he’d talked her into blowing off this job. That was the problem,” Zela continued as she rubbed a tear from her cheek. “He didn’t like her working here because it took up most of her nights.”

Now those damp eyes widened. “Did he hurt her? Oh, my God.”

“Did he strike you as the type who would?”

“No. No, no. A whiner, that’s what I thought. Passive-aggressive, and kind of a jerk. I’d never have believed he’d hurt her. Not like this.”

“We have no reason to believe he has, at this time. Can you give me his name, his address?”

“Yes. All right.”

“Would you still have your security discs from Monday?”

“Yes. Yes, we keep them for a week.”

“I’m going to need those. I’ll take the discs from last Saturday and Sunday as well. On Monday, did she leave alone?”

“I didn’t see her leave. What I mean is, I came in here at about quarter to eight, and she was just putting on her coat. I said something like, ‘So you can’t get enough of this place?’ and she laughed. Just wanted to finish up some paperwork. We talked for a few minutes, just shop talk mostly. She said she’d see me Wednesday, and I said…I said, ‘Have a good day off.’ Then she went out of the office, and I sat down to do a quick check on the late reservations. As I assumed, she’d gone straight out. She never mentioned being with anyone.”

“All right. I’d appreciate it if you could get me those discs, and that information on the man she’d been seeing.”

“Yes.” Zela got to her feet. “Is there something I can do? I don’t know what I should do. Her sister? Should I contact her sister?”