by J. D. Robb
“I imagine. Dennis would know.”
“He would?”
Mira managed a smile as she hurried up the steps. “It’s important. He knows what’s important. I don’t remember the code.” She pressed the buzzer, used the knocker.
When Dennis, disheveled gray hair, baggy pine-colored cardigan, opened the door, Mira grabbed his hands. “Dennis! You are hurt. Why didn’t you tell me?” She took his chin, turned his head to study the raw bruise on his temple. “You angled this away so I wouldn’t see it on the ’link.”
“Now, Charlie. I’m all right. I didn’t want to upset you. Come in out of the cold now, both of you. Eve, thank you for coming. I’m worried about Edward. I’ve been all through the house. He’s just not here.”
“But he was?” Eve prompted.
“Oh, yes. In the study. He was hurt. A black eye, and his mouth was bleeding. I should show you the study.”
When he turned, Mira let out a sound as much of frustration as distress. “Dennis, your head’s bleeding.” He hissed when she reached up to feel the knot. “You come in the living room and sit down, right now.”
“Charlie, Edward—”
“You leave Edward to Eve,” she said, pulling him into a big space that had either been decorated in a severely minimalist style, or several pieces of furniture had been removed. What remained appeared comfortably used and cheerful.
Mira took off her coat, tossed it carelessly aside, then dug into her enormous purse.
Eve got her first real clue why so many women carried handbags the size of water buffalos when Mira pulled a first aid kit out of hers.
“I’m going to clean up these lacerations, and ask Eve to drop us off at the nearest emergency room so you can have this X-rayed.”
“Now, sweetie.” He hissed again when Mira dabbed at the wound with an alcohol wipe, but managed to reach back and pat her leg. “I don’t need X-rays or other doctors when I have you. I just have a bump on the head. I’m as lucid as I ever get.”
Eve caught his smile, sly and sweet, when Mira laughed at that.
“No double vision, no dizziness or nausea,” he assured her. “Maybe a little headache.”
“If, after we get home and I give you a thorough exam—”
This time he turned around, wiggled his eyebrows, and grinned in a way that had Eve swallowing an embarrassed laugh of her own.
“Dennis.” Mira sighed, and cupping his face in her hands, kissed him so softly, so tenderly, that Eve had to look away.
“Ah, maybe you could tell me where to find the study—where you last saw your cousin.”
“I’ll take you back.”
“You’re going to sit right here and behave until I’m finished,” Mira told him. “It’s straight back, Eve, and then on the left. Lots of wood, a big desk and chair, leather-bound books on shelves.”
“I’ll find it.”
She could see where more art had been removed, more furniture—in fact, she found a room empty but for stacks of packing boxes. Yet she didn’t see a single mote of dust, and caught the light scent of lemon as if someone had crushed their blossoms with the air.
She found the study, and at a glance decided nothing—or nothing much—had been taken out of this space.
Organized, attractive with its heavy wood trim, its sturdy masculine furniture and deep tones.
Burgundy and forest, she mused, taking a long look from the doorway. Family photos in black or silver frames, polished plaques from various charitable organizations.
The desk itself still held a coffee-colored leather blotter, matching accessories, and a slick little data and communication center.
Beside the fireplace with its thick mantel stood a bar—small, old, certainly valuable. On it sat two crystal decanters, half full of amber liquid, with silver labels. Whiskey. Brandy.
She moved from the wood floor to the rug stretched on it. The softly faded pattern told her it was likely old and valuable like the bar, like the crystal, like the pocket watch on display under a glass dome.
She saw no sign of struggle, no indication anything had been stolen. But when she crouched down, examined the space before the fringe of the rug brushed over wood, she saw a few drops of blood.
She circled the room slowly, carefully, touching nothing as yet. But she began to see . . . maybe.
She started back, paused at the doorway of the living room to see Mira competently applying ointment to her husband’s temple.
“Don’t go in there yet,” Eve said. “I’m just going out for my field kit.”
“Oh, it’s nasty out. Let me get that for you.”
“I’ve got it,” she said quickly when Dennis started to rise. “Just give me a minute.”
She went back into the icy rain, got her field kit out of the trunk. As she went back she studied the neighboring houses, and pulled out her own ’link to send Roarke a quick text.
Got hung up. Will explain when I get home.
And considered she’d obeyed the Marriage Rules.
When she came back in, she set the kit down to take off her coat, scarf, hat. “Okay, let’s take this by the numbers. Have you tried to contact your cousin?”
“Oh, yes. I did that right away. He didn’t answer his ’link. I did try him at home as well, and reached his wife. I didn’t want to alarm her,” Dennis added, “so I didn’t mention any of this. She told me he wasn’t home, and would probably be running late. She may not know about his appointment here, but if she did, she wouldn’t tell me.”
“Appointment?”
“Oh, I am sorry. I haven’t explained any of this.” He gave Mira one of his absent smiles. “I tried to reach him earlier today, to see if the two of us could just . . . sit down and discuss our differences about the house. I got an assistant who seemed a little harried at the time. Otherwise she might not have mentioned he had an appointment here with a Realtor to assess the house for sale. It . . . Well, it set me right off. He shouldn’t have done that behind my back.”
Eve nodded, opened her kit to take out a can of Seal-It. “Pissed you off.”
“Eve,” Mira began, but Dennis patted her hand.
“Truth is best, Charlie. I was very upset. He wouldn’t answer his personal ’link, so when I finished my last class, I came here. Terrible traffic conditions. Something should be done.”
“Yeah, I think that all the time. When did you get here, Mr. Mira?”
“Oh, I’m not at all sure. Let me see. I finished my last class . . . it must have been about four-thirty. My TA and a couple of students had questions, so that took a bit of time. Then I had to get my papers together, and it may have been five or so before I left. Then getting here.” He added that sweet, vague smile, but his eyes, that dreamy green, held worry. “I couldn’t really say exactly.”
“Good enough,” Eve told him, as clearly trying to determine the timing distressed him. “There’s security on the house. Was it active?”
“It was. I have the passcode, and a swipe. My palm print is authorized.”
“There’s a cam.”
“Yes!” The idea obviously delighted him. “Of course there is! It would show my arrival—and Edward. I never thought of it.”
“Why don’t we take a look at that first? Do you know where the security station is?”
“Yes, of course. I’ll show you. Never thought of it,” he said again, shaking his head as he rose. “If I’d just looked for myself, I’d have seen Edward coming and going. You relieve my mind, Eve.”
“Mr. Mira, you were attacked.”
He stopped, blinked. “I suppose I was. That’s very upsetting. Who would have done that?”
“Let’s see if we can find out.”
He led her back, made a turn, then showed her a large, modern kitchen with some old-fashioned touches that suited the house.
It a
ll looked . . . comfortable, and reminded her in some ways of the Miras’ house uptown.
“There are viewing stations in several rooms,” Dennis explained as he opened a door off the kitchen. “So my grandparents or the staff could see who was at the door. But this is the main hub.”
He looked at it, gave everything a vague glance. “I’m afraid I’m not very good with complex electronics.”
“Me, either.” But she walked over to where she was damn sure a component should be. “But I can tell you somebody took the whole damn deal—the drive or whatever the hell it is, the discs.”
“Oh dear.”
“Yeah. Who else has access to the house?”
“Besides Edward and myself? The housekeeper—her mother worked for my grandparents for decades, and she’s helped us out for several years. She would never—”
“Understood, but I’m going to want her name so I can talk to her.”
“Is it all right if I make tea?” Dr. Mira asked.
“Sure, go ahead. Mr. Mira, I want you to walk me through exactly what happened. The cab dropped you off?”
“Yes. Right out front. I left my briefcase—so careless—but the driver called me back for it. I was angry and upset. I let myself in. It’s a push-pull coming here. The memories are strong and good, but it’s hard to know it’s not the same, and can’t be. I set my briefcase down, and I heard voices.”
“More than one?” Eve prompted.
“Well . . . I think so. I expected to find Edward and the Realtor he’d engaged. I assumed they were talking. I called out to him. I didn’t want to startle them. I started back, and when I got to the study, I saw him sitting in Granddad’s desk chair. Black eye, the blood. He was frightened. I saw the fear, and I started forward to help him. I must have been struck from behind. It’s never happened to me before, but I believe that’s what happened.”
“It knocked you out.”
“The injuries are consistent with a strike from a heavy object, back of the skull.” Mira brought Dennis a mug, wrapped his hands around it. “And with his right temple hitting the floor when he fell.”
“I’m not questioning that, Dr. Mira.”
“I know you’re not.” She sighed, then leaned into Dennis to gently kiss his bruised temple. “I know you’re not.”
“What did you do, Mr. Mira, when you came to?”
“I was disoriented, very confused initially. Edward wasn’t there, and though we haven’t been on the best of terms in a long time, he would never have left me on the floor that way. I called for him—I think—and I looked. I’m afraid I wandered around the house for a while, still a little confused, until it came to me something terrible had happened to Edward. I contacted Charlotte so she wouldn’t worry, and asked her if you could come and look into it all.”
He gave Eve a look with those soft, dreamy eyes that made her want to kiss his temple as Mira had. It mortified her.
“I realize now I should have simply contacted nine-one-one rather than bothering you.”
“This isn’t a bother. Are you up to taking a look at the study? Seeing if anything’s missing or out of place?”
“Anything I can do.”
When they walked back, she sealed her hands, her feet. “It’s better if you don’t touch anything. You’ve already been in there, and through the house, so sealing up’s beside the point. But let’s keep it to a minimum.”
She paused at the doorway. “So your cousin was in the desk chair. Behind the desk.”
“Yes, he was—oh, not behind it. The chair was in front of the desk.” He frowned a moment. “Why would that be? But, yes, he was sitting in the chair, in front of the desk. On the rug.”
“Okay.” That jibed with her observations. “Hold it a minute.”
She took what she needed from her kit, crouched down to take a swab of the blood from the floorboards, sealed it. Then meticulously swabbed an area of the rug.
She added drops of something from a small bottle to the swab, nodded. “Blood here. Somebody cleaned it up, but you don’t get it all with a quick run of household cleaner.”
She bent down, sniffed. “You can still smell it.” She put on microgoggles, peered close. “And if you’re looking, you can see it, and the faint pattern where the chair rolled out and back, sat here with weight in it.”
“Edward’s weight.”
“Looks that way. Another minute.” She moved behind the desk, started an inch-by-inch exam of the chair.
“They missed some. Just a drop here.” She swabbed again, carefully, leaving enough for the sweepers to take their own sample. “Was he restrained, Mr. Mira?”
“I . . .” He closed his eyes. “I don’t think so. I don’t think he was. I’m sorry. I’m not at all sure. I was so shocked.”
“Okay. Black eye, bloody mouth. So someone assaulted him, put him in the chair, but out here, more in the center of the room. Scared him enough to keep him there. A stunner maybe, a knife, a weapon anyway, or the threat of more physical violence.”
She circled the room again. “Voices. So they were talking. Wanted something from him, most likely. But before they can get it, or finish, you come in. You call out, so that gives them time to threaten him to keep it shut, to move out of sight. They don’t stun you, if they have a stunner. You stun somebody, it takes a few seconds, and maybe you see them before you go down. Bash from behind. But they don’t finish you off, or take you with them. You’re not important in this. You’re just an inconvenience. But they go to the trouble of cleaning up, putting the chair back behind the desk.
“Why?”
“It’s fascinating, the science and art of what you do.”
“What?”
“What you do,” Dennis said, “it’s a science, and an art. The observational skills are so polished, and—I think—innate. Sorry, my mind wandered.” He smiled. “You asked why. I think I might understand that. If they knew Edward, they might know me. Some people would say, as my mind will wander, I simply fell and struck my head. And imagined the rest.”
“Some people would be stupid,” Eve said, making him smile. “Anything not here that should be, Mr. Mira, or out of place?”
“We’ve kept this almost exactly as he left it. My grandfather. Some of what’s here comes to me, to my children, to others. But they were content to leave it like this for now. Everything’s here. I don’t think anything’s been taken or moved.”
“All right. You came to the doorway, saw him. You froze for a second—people do. You’re focused on your cousin, and you move forward to help him.”
She went to the doorway, paused, took a quick step in. Then scanned the shelves.
She picked up a stone bowl, brilliantly polished, frowned, set it down again. Tested the weight of an award plaque, dismissed it. Then she curled her fingers around the uplifted trunk of large glass elephant in jubilant blues and greens. Had weight, she mused, and that handy grip.
“Dr. Mira?”
Mira moved forward, and like Eve examined the elephant. “Yes, yes, the legs. They’re consistent with the wound.”
As Eve got another swab, Mira turned to Dennis. “I will never, this is an oath, never complain about your hard head again.”
“Cleaned it up, but we’ve got a little blood. Attacker steps back, side of the doorway. This is handy, heavy. You come in, whack, down you go. He, she, they—it’s going to be they, one to deal with Edward, one to deal with you and the cleanup. So one of them gets rug cleaner, whatever, cleans things up, gets the hard drive, the discs. And they take him, leave you. I’m going to go through the house, make sure they didn’t stuff him somewhere—sorry,” she said immediately.
“No, don’t be.”
“I’m going to have sweepers come in, go over all this. I can contact Missing Persons, expedite there.”
“Could you . . .”
“Will you take lead on this?” Understanding, Mira took Dennis’s hand. “Both of us would feel easier if you remained in charge.”
“Sure, I can clear that. Why don’t you go back and sit down, let me get things rolling.”
Eve bagged the elephant, contacted Crime Scene, ordered up some uniforms to canvass. Someone had walked in the house, most likely invited in by Edward Mira. She’d check on this Realtor. And someone had walked back out again, either carrying Edward’s body or forcing him to leave with them.
They’d need transportation.
Not a burglary, she thought, and not a straight kidnapping, or why rough him up first? The chair in the middle of the room struck her as an interrogation.
Somebody wanted something from Edward Mira. Chances were he’d stay alive until they got it.
She went back to the living room. They’d turned on the fire, and sat together on a sofa, drinking tea.
Eve sat on the coffee table facing them, as it made a tighter connection.
“I need some information. The Realtor—name, contact?”
“I have no idea. I’m sorry. The assistant didn’t mention it, and I was too upset to ask.”
“Okay, I’ll get that from his office. Where’s his office?”
“He retired from Congress to create and head a political think tank,” Mira told her. “He has an office in their headquarters, in the Chrysler Building.”
“Prime real estate.”
“Status is very important to Edward,” Dennis said. “His organization, the Mira Institute, takes two floors, and owns a pied-à-terre in East Washington for Edward’s use or when one of the other executives needs to be there.”
“Need that address, too, and his home address. I’m going to talk to his wife when I leave here. How was their relationship?”
Dennis glanced at his wife, sighed.
“I’ll take this. Mandy is a realist who enjoys the life she leads. She excelled on the campaign trail, continues to excel at fund-raisers and committees. The fact that Edward cheated, often? She considers that part of the whole, and not particularly important, as he’s discreet. She’s discreet as well, and uses the services of a licensed companion. Both their children are grown, of course, and while each play the game in public, neither have much affection for their parents or the choices their parents have made.”