Faithless in Death

by Robb, J. D.

  “Dead woman, attacked from behind, who, by all appearances had wine and sex prior to the attack. EDD will confirm if the lock was compromised, as visual exam leans no.”

  They replaced the field kits, got back in the car.

  “We know the TOD, the probable COD. We know, because Brownstone comes off honest and credible, the vic was private about her private life, serious about her work. Supplemented her income by teaching two or three times a week, and was careless with her security.”

  “We know,” Eve added, “that the vic’s lover or lovers was or were discreet enough Brownstone can’t confirm she had any. Potentially one or more of her students. Stay after class, have a roll, head out. She’ll have the schedule and a list of students on her comp. Have EDD copy us there.”

  As she drove, Eve called in for the name of the nine-one-one caller, and a copy of the recording.

  “Gwendolyn Huffman.”

  “The same person who texted her yesterday afternoon.”

  Considering, Eve tapped her fingers on the wheel. “Isn’t that handy? Let’s hear the call.”

  Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?

  Oh, God, oh God, she’s dead! She’s dead. There was blood.

  Ariel! It’s Ariel. You need to help, send help.

  Over the calm, clear voice of the nine-one-one operator, the hysteria rose only higher as the caller spewed out the address.

  Hurry, hurry, please hurry. God, God, I’m going to be sick.

  The transmission ended.

  “Never gave her name,” Eve said. “They got it from the ’link number.”

  “She sounded hysterical, start to finish.”

  “If she actually saw the body in the West Village, dropped the morning takeout, then went all the way home to the Upper East Side, she had time to bank that down a little. And if she didn’t see the body, how the hell did she know? Let’s see if she’s taken the time to work out the answers.”

  The building on the Upper East Side rose high and sleek, steel and glass with the curve of generous terraces on the top floors. On the street, two doormen in silver-trimmed black flanked the wide glass entrance.

  Neither of them looked pleased to see Eve’s deceptively unstylish DLE pull to the curb.

  As the one on the left approached, Eve got out of the car, flipped up her badge.

  “Leave it where I put it.”

  “Ma’am—”

  She jabbed a finger at him, then at her badge. “Does this say ma’am? No, it does not. It’s says Lieutenant. It says NYPSD. Leave my ride where I put it.”

  She strode past him, across the sidewalk, and through the glass that whisked open when she approached—and made her wonder why the hell they needed doormen.

  They walked into what Eve thought of as obsessive elegance. Gold and silver abounded with some royal blue tossed in with a few cushy club chairs. Gold chandeliers dripped light; slim silver urns displayed an arrangement of twisted, gold-flecked branches.

  The air, hushed and fragrant, whispered discreetly of wealth and privilege.

  Two clerks, in royal blue suits, manned a curved, mirrored counter. One continued to work diligently on her comp. The other tossed his best professional smile at Eve.

  “Good morning, and welcome to House Royale. How may I assist you today?”

  Maybe it was petty, but Eve felt just a tiny bump of satisfaction when she held up her badge and watched that smile drop away.

  “We’re here to speak to Gwendolyn Huffman.”

  “Felicity?” He looked over at his companion, who’d stopped working to fold her hands on the counter.

  “Verify their IDs, Jonathan.”

  “Oh, yes, of course. If I could scan your badges, please?”

  After he rooted up a scanner, verified, Felicity nodded.

  “We cleared two officers about a half hour ago. Clearance was delayed, as Ms. Huffman had a Do Not Disturb on her unit. Ms. Huffman’s fiancé arrived about fifteen minutes before we put through clearance. As Ms. Huffman had updated her DND to exclude him, Mr. Caine went straight up.”

  “So you kept cops cooling heels, but let the fiancé go up?”

  Felicity remained placid. “I certainly apologize, Lieutenant. However, in lieu of a warrant or a verified emergency, we’re obliged to honor a resident’s DND.”

  “What time did you come on the desk?” Eve asked her.

  “Eight-thirty A.M. As I told the officers, I haven’t seen Ms. Huffman this morning.”

  “We’ll need a copy of the security feed for the last twenty-four.” Eve paused, made it significant. “I can get a warrant.”

  “That won’t be necessary. We’re more than willing to cooperate however we’re able. Jonathan, go to security and obtain what the lieutenant requested.”

  “Lobby,” Eve said, “elevators, Huffman’s floor.”

  He all but popped up. “I’ll get it right away.”

  “We’ll pick it up on our way out,” Eve told Felicity. “Clear us up.”

  “You’re cleared. Ms. Huffman is 4800, forty-eighth floor, east.”

  “Thanks.” Eve walked to the elevators with Peabody. Two gold for west, two silver for east.

  “Here’s a thought.” Eve stepped into the car with its gold-veined silvery mirrored walls. “Huffman’s back here when she made the nine-one-one call. It came in at the same time Felicity came on the desk. So Huffman was upstairs, here. She puts on the DND, and buys time.”

  “She had to know cops would come,” Peabody concurred.

  “Unless she’s an idiot, yeah. Pulls in the fiancé for a little support, maybe runs the story by him. So far, she’s not making my wit-of-the-week list.”

  “The desk said they cleared the fiancé up, so he doesn’t live with her.”

  “She goes all the way downtown, and early, stops for coffee and muffins for two. Why?”

  “The text said a sitting.”

  “Yeah—no names on the texts, either, no chatty details. So, she heads downtown very early in the morning. Either the door to the vic’s place wasn’t secured or Huffman has access. If she has access, why? Goes in, goes up, drops the takeout, and doesn’t just leave, she comes all the way back here before she calls it in.

  “Why?”

  Eve stepped out into a wide hallway with silver carpet. “Let’s see how she answers.”

  Apartment 4800 boasted double doors, a palm plate, security cam, and double police locks. Eve pressed the buzzer.

  The resident is not receiving visitors at this time, the computer began, please—

  “Lieutenant Dallas, Detective Peabody, NYPSD.” She held up her badge for the scanner.

  After a brief hesitation, a scan, the computer advised, Please wait.

  A moment later, the right door opened. She judged the man to be in his mid-thirties, with the sun-streaked blond hair, golden tan, and rugged good looks that said he liked to spend his free time hiking or sailing or playing tennis or some other outdoorsy thing.

  At the moment he wore a three-piece navy pin-striped suit and a perfectly knotted gray-and-navy tie.

  “Lieutenant, Detective.” He nodded briefly, his eyes—nearly the same color as his suit—sober. “Please come in. I’m Merit Caine, Ms. Huffman’s fiancé.”

  He led them through a small foyer flanked by potted trees with little oranges hanging from the branches, and into a wide living area.

  If the lobby struck Eve as obsessive elegance, this struck her as studied elegance.

  Everything perfect and perfectly matched, she thought. The soft colors and gentle curves of the furnishings, the huge antique rug—perfectly faded—the quiet art, all landscapes or still lifes interspersed with mirrors of varying shapes, the scent of roses and lilies in crystal vases, and the perfection of the view of the river outside the wall of glass. The generous terrace offered a little outdoor living with its glass table, cushy chairs, and potted flowers.

  It all suited the woman curled in the corner of the pale blue sofa. Eve judged her a s
olid decade younger than the fiancé. Young enough, she thought, to do without facial enhancement—or expert enough with them to make it appear she had.

  She’d pulled her blond hair back in a tail so her classic oval of a face was unframed. Her eyes—a soft blue like the sofa—showed signs of weeping. Delicately.

  She wore white pants in a fluid material, and a flowing white shirt. Everything about her read fragile.

  The two uniforms rose from their chairs. Each had coffee, but set the cups down.

  “Detective, take the officers to the foyer, get their reports. We’ve got this from here,” she said to them. “Ms. Huffman, I’m Lieutenant Dallas.”

  “I know.” Her voice wavered. “Merit and I saw the vid. The Icove Agenda. I can’t believe this is happening.” She reached out for Merit’s hand. “I—I told the officers, was telling them what happened. Except I don’t know what happened. I just don’t know.”

  “It’s all right, Gwen.” Merit sat beside her, kept her hand in his. Her left one boasted a chunky square-cut diamond. “It’s going to be all right.”

  Ruggedly Handsome, meet Delicate Beauty, Eve thought. A perfect match.

  He looked back at Eve. “Please sit, Lieutenant. Can we offer you something?”

  “Just answers,” she said, and sat.

  “Before you start, I’m also Gwen’s legal representative.”

  “You’re a lawyer, Mr. Caine?”

  “Yes, with Caine, Boswell, and Caine. While Gwen wants to help your investigation in any way she can, you understand she’s had a shock.”

  “What kind of a shock have you had, Ms. Huffman?”

  “I—well—I—I found Ariel. She was …” Gwen turned her face into Merit’s shoulder. “So much blood.”

  “You were in her apartment?”

  “Yes. This morning.”

  “What time?”

  “Early. I’m not sure, but it had to be about seven-thirty. A little before? I’m not sure.”

  “How did you get into the apartment?”

  Gwen turned her face back toward Eve, but left her head on Merit’s shoulder. “The door was open a little. I could hear the music—she likes music on when she works—so I just went inside. I called up to let her know, then I started to go up to her studio. I’d brought coffee and muffins from this place she likes. I was telling her that. ‘I’ve got lattes and cranberry muffins.’ I think I said something about being a little early, maybe how she shouldn’t leave her door unlatched.

  “Then when I went up … I saw her. On the floor, and all the blood. I saw her face, her eyes. I think I screamed. I don’t know. I couldn’t breathe, I felt sick and dizzy and terrified. I ran out. Oh, Merit, I shouldn’t have run away like that.”

  “You were in shock.”

  “Did you touch anything?”

  “I don’t know. The door, the railing. I don’t know.”

  “How did you get back here?”

  “I got a cab somewhere. I don’t even know. I ran, I walked. I felt outside myself.” She pressed her hand with its dazzling diamond to her heart. “It didn’t seem real. It couldn’t be real.”

  Eve gestured to another chair when Peabody came back in.

  “How long have you known Ms. Byrd?”

  “We met last fall—September, I think. It must have been September because Merit was on a business trip. I went to an art opening downtown. Ariel was one of the featured artists. I liked her work so much.”

  A single tear slid rather beautifully down Gwen’s cheek. “I bought one of her pieces, and we talked. We just hit it off. I admired her fierce dedication to her art, but she also had a breezy side, if you know what I mean. We became friendly.”

  “Friendly enough for you to drop by her apartment at seven-thirty in the morning?”

  “I was early, as I said. I was supposed to be there at eight, but I was excited. I’d commissioned her to do a piece in marble for Merit, for a wedding gift. I was going to do a sitting.”

  “Did she often leave her door unsecured?”

  “I … I don’t know. I didn’t go to her place that often. We’d usually meet for drinks or to browse a gallery, have some lunch. Of course I’d been to her place, seen her work space, but I don’t recall her door being unlatched before.

  “She could be careless,” Gwen added. “When her mind was in her work, she could be careless.”

  “All right. You were friends. You met her other friends.”

  “Not really. It’s not that she’s an unfriendly person, but she didn’t socialize much.”

  “What about romantic partners?”

  “She never mentioned anyone specifically. I used to tell her Merit had an adorable cousin, and I could fix her up.” She smiled a little now when she looked at her fiancé. “Henry. But she’d had a bad breakup a couple of years ago, and said she wanted to concentrate on her work. Romance could wait.”

  “Did she mention the name of the ex?”

  “No.”

  “Okay, why don’t you tell us about your evening?”

  Those soft and teary blue eyes widened. “My evening?”

  “Where you had dinner, what time, with whom.”

  “I don’t understand.” Once again, she looked at Merit.

  “You’ve established time of death,” he said.

  “We have. I’d like to get this out of the way, let Ms. Huffman have some quiet and some privacy.”

  “Do they think I could do that to her?” Eyes wide, lips trembling, she clutched at Merit. “To anyone?”

  Eve shot Peabody a glance so her partner leaned in, all understanding. “Ms. Huffman, this is such a difficult time for you. You suffered a shock and a loss. Everything you tell us helps us find out what happened to your friend, who hurt your friend. Maybe you talked to her last evening?”

  “No, I … Did I? No. We texted! That’s right, in the afternoon. I texted her to confirm the sitting, and she texted back that she was looking forward to it. I was meeting with our wedding planner, Marjorie. Merit and I are getting married in July.”

  “Congratulations.” Peabody added a smile.

  “I came home after. Merit’s preparing for a court case, so he’d be working late. I got restless. It was such a beautiful day. I went out for a walk, some window-shopping. I guess about six? Six or six-thirty? I’m not sure. I ended up walking to the park. I’m not sure what time I got back here. Eight? Nine? Then I had a salad, a glass of wine. Two,” she corrected. “And worked on some of the things Marjorie and I had discussed. Between the wine and the long walk, I was in bed and asleep by eleven.”

  “Did you meet anyone on your walk, buy anything while you window-shopped?” Eve asked.

  “No. Oh, Merit and I texted, what, about nine-thirty?”

  “About. I texted Gwen to let her know we were ordering in more food, and we’d probably be at prep for another two or three hours. Since we were taking a break, we texted back and forth for a few minutes.”

  “Ms. Huffman, given this morning’s timeline, you didn’t call nine-one-one for approximately sixty minutes after you found Ms. Byrd.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. So sorry. I’ve never in my life seen—I didn’t start to think straight until I was back home, and even then. Then it hit me. I’d left her there. Just left her. I started to take a pill, a sleep aid. I can hardly believe I nearly took a sleep aid so I could just make it all go away. I started shaking all over again, and I called the police. But I couldn’t stop shaking.”

  “You put a Do Not Disturb on your room and ’links.”

  “Yes, when I was going to take the pill. I nearly took it again after I called, but I just drank a soother, and I finally realized the police would need to talk to me, and I wanted Merit. I wanted Merit.”

  She began to cry slow, graceful tears as she huddled against him.

  “I should have stayed with her.” With pretty tears sliding, she turned her face up to his. “I should have stayed with Ariel and talked to the police there. I’ll be ashamed I di
dn’t for the rest of my life.”

  “Don’t. Don’t blame yourself.” He brushed his lips on her forehead. “I’d appreciate if we could call this now, Lieutenant, Detective. She’s had more than enough.”

  “We appreciate your cooperation,” Eve said as she rose. “And we’re sorry for your loss. We’ll see ourselves out.”

  On the walk to the elevator, Eve asked, “Anything we didn’t cover from the uniforms?”

  “Not really. They’d just gotten started. They said there was some stonewalling—not clearing them up because of the DND, waiting for her legal rep. Then some crying and soothing to get through.”

  They stepped into the elevator, started down. “They’d started to establish the relationship, the basic timeline, then we got there.”

  “Okay, they didn’t get deep enough into the initial interview to see the big, gaping holes in her story.”

  “They didn’t mention it,” Peabody replied. “I guess I’m going to risk wrath and say I felt some of her version had wobbles, and I always suspect anyone who can cry and look gorgeous doing it—but that may be envy. But I didn’t see the big, gaping holes.”

  “Wait for them.” Eve headed straight to the lobby desk. Before she could ask, Felicity gave her a packet, sealed and labeled.

  “The copy you requested, Lieutenant. If we can be of any further assistance—”

  “You can. How long has Ms. Huffman lived here?”

  “For nearly four years, if memory serves.”

  “Does your memory include an approximation of how long she’s been seeing Mr. Caine?”

  “An approximation would be the best I can offer. I’d say about a year, less for his automatic clearance.”

  “Thanks. One more thing.” She pulled out her PPC, brought up Ariel Byrd’s ID photo. “Do you recognize this woman?”

  “No, I’m sorry.”

  “Okay, another one more thing. The other shifts on the desk. I need their names and contacts.”

  “Of course. Jonathan, get that information, please.”

  Once she had it, Eve thanked Felicity again before heading out with Peabody.

  Peabody waited until they were in the car. “So our wit’s a suspect. I get that, it’s routine. But I don’t get why you’re narrowing in on her right off.”