by J. D. Robb
“Doesn’t seem stupid to marry a rich old guy,” Peabody replied. “Calculating.”
“You can be stupid and calculating at the same time. Keeps houses in London, Cannes, New York, and Bimini. Made his money the old-fashioned way. Inherited it from his father. No criminal record, no nothing much. Still, we’ll see if he’s in New York at the moment. Could have servants, staff, assistants, crazy relatives hanging around him with access to his fancy paper.”
She continued on down. “Take the names, Peabody. See if you can find out if any of them are in New York.”
Would it be that easy? she wondered. Would he be that arrogant to leave something so easily traced back to him? Maybe, maybe. She’d still have to prove it, even if she targeted him through his fancy writing paper.
“Niles Renquist,” she stated. “Thirty-eight. Married, one child. Brit citizen with residences in London and New York. Currently chief of staff for the U.N. delegate from Britain, Marshall Evans. Got yourself digs on Sutton Place, don’t you, Niles. Fancy stuff. No criminal on you either, but you’re worth a look-see.”
She sipped coffee, thought vaguely about food.
“Pepper Franklin. What the hell kind of name is Pepper? Actress? Of course you are. Brit actress currently starring in Broadway revival of Uptown Lady. No criminal. Nothing but squeaky-clean on this list.”
It was a little depressing.
But she hit with Pepper Franklin’s cohabitation partner, Leo Fortney.
Sexual assault, indecent exposure, sexual battery.
“Bad boy,” Eve reprimanded. “Bad and busy boy.”
When Peabody came back, Eve already had her list in order of priority and was shrugging back into her jacket.
“Carmichael Smith, Elliot Hawthorne, Niles Renquist, and Pepper Franklin are all in New York, or reputed to be in New York at this time.”
“Suit up. We’re going to go pay some of our English friends a visit.” She started out. “Is the U.N. in session?”
“U.N.? As in United Nations?”
“No, U.N. as in Unidentified Numbskulls.”
“I recognize sarcasm when I hear it,” Peabody said with some dignity. “I’ll check on it.”
Chapter 3
It irritated her to jump through hoops. Every time she cleared one, there was another stack to hurdle. No amount of reason, demand, or threat got her through the maze of assistants, staffers, coordinators, and personal attendants to Carmichael Smith or Niles Renquist.
She was forced to settle for appointments the following day.
Which might have made her slightly less than diplomatic with the blonde touting herself as Mr. Fortney’s social secretary.
“This isn’t a social call. See this?” Eve all but pressed her badge to the woman’s nose. “This means I’m probably not feeling particularly sociable. This is what we NYPSD people like to call an official inquiry.”
The blonde set her face into stern lines and succeeded in looking like a cranky baby doll. “Mr. Fortney is very busy,” she said in an indignant lisp Eve just bet some brainless guy found sexy. “He can’t be disturbed.”
“If you don’t tell your boss that Lieutenant Dallas of the NYPSD is out here waiting to speak to him, everyone in this building’s going to be disturbed.”
“He’s unavailable.”
Eve had taken that line on Smith, who might very well have been at his health center having a complete physical workup. And she’d taken it on Renquist, who quite possibly had been in back-to-back meetings with various heads of state.
But she wasn’t taking it from some actress’s bimbo companion.
“Peabody,” she said without taking her eyes off the blonde, “call for an Illegals sweep. I believe I smell Zoner.”
“What are you talking about? That’s just silly.” Obviously incensed, the blonde danced on her four-inch platforms that had her impressive breasts bobbing like soccer balls. “You can’t do something like that.”
“Oh, I bet I can. And you know what happens sometimes, on an Illegals sweep? It leaks to the media. Especially when there’s a celebrity type involved. I bet Ms. Franklin’s going to be a little annoyed about that.”
“If you think you can intimidate me into—”
“Illegals team will be here within thirty, Lieutenant.” Peabody tried her cold cop voice. She’d been practicing. “You’re authorized to lock down the building.”
“Thank you, Officer. That was quick work. With me.”
“What?” The blonde clattered after her as Eve strode out of the office. “Where are you going? What are you doing?”
“I’m going to lock down. Once a sweep’s been authorized, no one is allowed to enter or leave the premises.”
“You can’t—Don’t.” She grabbed Eve’s arm.
“Oh-oh?” Eve paused enough to look at the lily-white hand with its baby pink nails that clutched her sleeve. “That might be construed as assaulting an officer, and an attempt to obstruct a police investigation. Since you seem a little dim to me, I’ll just cuff you instead of knocking you on your ass, then cuffing you.”
“I wasn’t!” The blonde dropped Eve’s arm as if it had burst into flame, and scrambled back. “I didn’t! Oh, damn it, okay, okay, o-kay! I’ll tell Leo.”
“Hmm. You know, Peabody.” Eve took another testing sniff of air. “I don’t think that’s Zoner after all.”
“I think you’re right, Lieutenant. I think it’s gardenia.” Peabody let the grin spread as the blonde rushed back into the office. “She must be dim if she thinks you can call for a sweep that way.”
“Dim or guilty. Bet she’s got a little goodie stash in here. Who did you call?” Eve asked.
“Weather. It’s hot, and it’s going to stay hot. In case you wondered.”
Chin up, the blonde stepped out again, and announced in her best lisp, “Mr. Fortney will see you now.”
Eve followed in the wake of the woman’s intense dislike.
Fortney was set up in one of the five office suites. The area appeared to have been decorated by the color-blind or the insane—possibly both—as even Eve’s casual sense of style was bombarded with the clashing colors and patterns that dominated walls, floors, ceiling.
Fortney’s space had taken it one step further by adding animal prints that ran rampant over the walls in a jungle madness of leopard spots, tiger stripes, and splotches of unknown wildlife. Clear tables fashioned of glossy plates atop oddly phallic columns were used as accents.
His desk was a larger version of the tables, with the penis-like columns painted a virulent red. He was pacing behind it as they entered, talking rapidly into a headset.
“We need to move on this within twenty-four. Up or down, no in between. I’ve got the outline, the projections, and the Q-factor. Let’s wrap it up.”
He gave a come-ahead gesture with a hand glittering with gold and silver bands.
While he continued to talk and pace, Eve sat in one of the tiger-striped chairs and studied him. He was posing for her, she had no doubt of it. So, she’d accommodate him.
He was artfully dressed in a tunic-jacket and pants, both the color of green grapes. His hair was a dark magenta, worn long and sleek around a narrow, deeply carved face. His eyes too closely matched the shade of his suit to be natural.
Like his fingers, his ears glittered with gold and silver bands.
About six two, Eve judged—with the heeled sandals—and well turned out for his type. Took his body seriously, she imagined, and enjoyed showing it off in fancy duds.
Since he was working hard to show her what a busy and important man he was, she assumed he was neither.
He removed the headset, smiled at her. “I’m so sorry, Lieutenant Dennis. I’m just swamped today.”
“Dallas.”
“Dallas, of course, Dallas.” He made a little ha-ha sound and walked to a long counter, bent down to the minifriggie beneath. He continued to speak in his rapid-fire style, in a accentless tone that said West Coast to Eve. “I
t’s just madness around here, my mind’s going a thousand directions at once. Parched. Just parched. Drink?”
“No, thank you.”
He took out a bottle of something orange and frothy and poured it into a glass. “Suelee tells me you were very insistent about seeing me.”
“Suelee was very insistent I wouldn’t see you.”
“Well, ha-ha, just doing her job. Don’t know what I’d do without my Suelee guarding the gates.”
He beamed, sat in an I’m-a-busy-but-personable-son-of-a-bitch style on the edge of his horrible red desk. “You’d be amazed how many people try to get in to see me on any given day. Comes with the territory, of course. Actors, writers, directors.” He threw up a hand, waved it dramatically. “But I don’t often have an attractive policewoman looking for a meeting.”
His smile glittered, white and perfectly even. “So, tell me, what’ve you got? Play, vid, disc book? Cop drama’s cooled off recently, but there’s always room for a good story. The girl cop angle’s good. What’s your pitch?”
“Your whereabouts between midnight and three A.M. this morning.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I’m primary on a homicide investigation. Your name’s come up. I’d like to know your whereabouts during the time frame I just gave you.”
“Murder? I don’t—Oooh!” With another laugh, he shook his head so his hair shook fashionably. “Interesting pitch. Let’s see, my first reaction would be what? Shock, insult, fear?”
“A licensed companion was brutally murdered early this morning in Chinatown. You can speed up this process, Mr. Fortney, by telling me where you were between midnight and three.”
He lowered his glass. “You’re serious?”
“Midnight and three, Mr. Fortney.”
“Well, my God. My God.” He laid his free hand on his heart, patted it there. “I was home, of course. Pepper comes straight home after the show. We tend to go to bed early during a run. It’s both physically and emotionally exhausting for her. People don’t understand the strain of performing, night after night, and how few reserves one has left after—”
“I’m not interested in where Ms. Franklin was,” Eve interrupted. Or in your stalling tactics, she thought. “Where were you?”
“Well, home, as I said.” His tone was a little testy now. “Pepper would have arrived by midnight, and she needs a bit of company and care after a show, so I always wait up to be there for her. We had a nightcap while she ran down, then we were tucked in before one, so she could get her beauty sleep. I can’t understand why you’d possibly question me. An LC, in Chinatown? What could that have to do with me?”
“Can anyone verify that you were home during the time frame?”
“Pepper, of course. Pepper. I was right there to greet her when she arrived home, just before midnight. And we were in bed, as I said, by one. She’s a very light sleeper. It comes from being so creative and sensitive. She’ll tell you she’d have known if I so much as stirred from the bed in the night.”
He took another drink, a longer one. “Who was this woman who was killed? Do I know her? I don’t use the services of companions. I do, naturally, know many people, from various walks. Certainly some actors and hopefuls might moonlight as LCs.”
“Jacie Wooton.”
“It means nothing to me. Nothing.” The color that had come into his face during his rambling alibi began to diminish. He shrugged, carelessly now. “I don’t believe I’ve ever been to Chinatown.”
“You bought stationery in London several months ago. Fifty sheets and envelopes, plain, cream-colored, unrecycled stock.”
“Did I? It’s certainly possible. I buy quite a lot of things. For myself, for Pepper, as gifts. What in the world does stationery have to do with anything?”
“It’s very expensive, very distinctive stock. It would be helpful if you could produce it.”
“Paper, bought months ago, in London?” He made his ha-ha sound again, but this time it carried annoyance. “For all I know it’s still in London. I think I should call my lawyer.”
“That’s your choice. You can ask your representative to meet us downtown, at Central, to discuss your priors. Assaults and sex crimes.”
His face turned nearly the same shade as his hair. “Those incidents are in my past. If you must know the sexual assault charge was completely unwarranted. An argument with a woman I’d been dating that escalated, and her revenge when I broke things off with her. I didn’t fight the charge as I felt it would only generate more ugly publicity and drag things out.”
“Indecent exposure.”
“A misunderstanding. I’d had a bit too much to drink after a party and, impaired, was relieving my bladder when a group of young women happened to pass. It was foolish and ill-advised, but hardly criminal.”
“And the battery?”
“A shoving match with my ex-wife. Who started the incident, by the way. Just an unfortunate display of temper, which she used to skin me in the divorce. I don’t appreciate having all this thrown in my face, or being accused of murder. I was at home and in bed last night. All night. And that’s all I have to say without my lawyer.”
“Funny,” Eve commented as she headed uptown. “A guy can be arrested and charged three times, but none of it was his fault. All misunderstandings.”
“Yeah, the law’s a bitch.”
“What we’ve got here, Peabody, is a weasely little man who likes to put on a big show. Look at me. I’m important, I’m powerful. I’m somebody. And he has a history of knocking women around, showing off his dick and losing his temper. Surrounds himself with phallic symbols and has a big-breasted blonde playing guardian of the gates.”
“I didn’t like him. But it’s a pretty big leap from shaking his wang to slicing up an LC.”
“Steps and stages,” Eve declared. “Let’s see if Pepper’s home, and how she slept last night.”
The brownstone was lovely, old and elegant. And meant, Eve calculated as she walked toward the door, private security. The sort the owner could turn on and off at whim.
She rang the bell, considered the entrance, the flow of flowers in pots running up the short set of steps, the proximity of neighboring houses.
When the door opened, she had an immediate flash, and not very pleasant, of Roarke’s majordomo, and the bane of her existence, Summerset.
The butler was dressed in stark black, as was Summerset’s habit. He was long and thin with pewter hair atop a narrow face.
She actually felt her gorge rise.
“May I help you?”
“Lieutenant Dallas, Officer Peabody.” Prepared to plow through him if necessary, she flipped out her badge. “I need to speak with Ms. Franklin.”
“Ms. Franklin is engaged in her yoga/meditation hour. May I be of some assistance?”
“You can assist me by getting out of the way, telling Ms. Franklin she’s got a cop at the door who wants to question her regarding an official investigation.”
“Of course,” he said so genially, she actually blinked. “Please come in. If you’d make yourself comfortable in the living area, I’ll inform Ms. Franklin. Would you care for any refreshment while you wait?”
“No.” She eyed him suspiciously. “Thanks.”
“I’ll just be a moment.” After gesturing them into a large, sunny room with long white sofas, he turned toward a staircase.
“Maybe we can trade Summerset for him.”
“Hey, Dallas, check it out.”
Eve turned and studied what Peabody was currently gaping at. The life-sized portrait of Pepper Franklin rose above the sea green mantel of a white hearth. In it, she appeared to be dressed in nothing but mists. They curled and draped around her, shimmering and thin so that her impressive body was displayed. Her arms were stretched out as if welcoming an embrace.
She was smiling, dreamily, her lips painted deep rose. Her hair was a tumble of gold around a heart-shaped face set off by wide, deep blue eyes.
Striki
ng, Eve mused. Sensual. Powerful.
Just what, she wondered, was a woman with that much style and strength doing with a loser like Fortney?
“I’ve seen her on-screen and in mags and stuff, but this is—you know—wow. She looks like, I don’t know, a fairy queen.”
“Thank you.” The voice was silver wrapped in fog. “That was the goal,” Pepper said as she walked into the room. “It’s taken, more or less, from my role of Titania.”
She wore a skin-suit now, in dark purple, and had a short towel hooked around her neck. Her face, still striking, was sheened with perspiration, and her hair was bundled up carelessly.
“Lieutenant Dallas?” She offered a hand. “Excuse my appearance. I’m in the middle of yoga. It helps keep me in shape—body, mind, spirit. It also makes me sweat like a pig.”
“I’m sorry to interrupt.”
“I assume it’s important.” She sat, dropping down on the white sofa, letting out a long sigh. “Please, have a seat. Oh God, Turney, thanks.” She took the large bottle of water the butler brought her on a silver tray.
“Mr. Fortney is on the ’link. He’s called three times in the last thirty minutes.”
“He should know better than to call during yoga hour. Tell him I’ll get back to him.”
She took a long drink, angled her head. “Well, what’s this about?”
“I’d like you to verify Mr. Fortney’s whereabouts this morning between midnight and three.”
The easy smile vanished. “Leo? Why?”
“His name has come up in the course of an investigation. If I can verify his whereabouts during that period, we can eliminate it and move on.”
“He was here, with me. I got home about eleven forty-five. Maybe a few minutes later. We had a drink. I allow myself one glass of wine before bed after a performance. We talked about various things, then I went upstairs. I suppose I was in bed and asleep by twelve-thirty.”
“Alone?”
“Initially. I’m always beat after a show, and Leo’s a night owl. He was going to watch some screen, make some calls. Something.” She lifted one elegant shoulder.