Calculated in Death Page 14

  “We don’t have time for small talk,” Alexander snapped.

  “Of course. I’m sorry. I’m Thomas Pope.”

  “We need to get this mess sorted out, Tom.”

  “I know.” Pope held up his hands. “I know. I’ve contacted everyone we discussed. It’ll be all right, Sterling.”

  “Someone’s trying to sabotage us.”

  “We don’t know that. Don’t upset yourself. We weren’t the only account taken. And a woman’s dead. She’s dead.” He glanced at Eve. “She had two children. I heard that on the media report.”

  “Yes. I need to ask you your whereabouts on the night she was killed.”

  “Oh. My. Of course, of course. I was home. We spent the evening at home, my wife and I. Our daughter was out with friends. We worry. She’s sixteen. It’s very worrying. We stayed in all evening, and our daughter came home at ten—on time.” He smiled when he said it.

  “Did you see or speak with anyone that evening, other than your wife and daughter?”

  “Ah . . . Actually, I spoke to my mother. Our mother,” he corrected, glancing at Alexander. “We’re half-brothers.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes, I meant to tell you, Sterling, but everything’s been so upside down, I forgot. I spoke with my mother, and, oh yes, my on-the-right neighbor. When I walked the dog.” Every sentence contained a hint of apology. “I forgot to say I went out and walked the dog. We have a dog. And my neighbor and I usually walk our dogs together when we can. We did. About nine o’clock.”

  “All right. Thank you. This audit, it’s required by your bylaws?”

  “It is,” Alexander confirmed. “My father wrote it in when he formed the company. He believes in full accounting.”

  “It’s a way to keep your house clean.” Pope cleared his throat. “My mother always says that. She initially joined the firm as an associate, then became full partner. Though she and Mr. Alexander Senior parted ways on a personal level, they remained business partners until their mutual retirement.”

  “There’s no need to wave around family business,” Alexander snapped out.

  “It’s interesting,” Eve countered. “Has there ever been any problems with previous audits?”

  “Absolutely not.” Pope spoke first, then winced as he glanced at his half brother. “I don’t mean to speak out of turn, but while there have been a few minor issues, immediately resolved, we’re very proud to run that clean house.”

  “Any chance I could get copies of those previous audits?”

  “Absolutely not.” This time Alexander spoke first, and with an entirely different tone. “Now that’s all the time we can spend on this. Look to competitors. It’s obvious this woman got caught up in something that cost her her life. We’re the victims here.”

  “Yeah. You’re the victims. Thanks for your time.”

  Eve bared her teeth when she and Peabody rode down to the lobby. “Another asshole.”

  “The world’s full of them. You’d never know by looking or listening to the two of them that they’re related.”

  “Alexander doesn’t consider them related. He considers Pope a pain in the ass when he’s not considering him a go-fer. And Pope knows it. Alexander’s playing the victim card, and hard—and that buzzes for me. And Pope’s just a little too self-effacing.”

  She replayed the interview in her head as they crossed the lobby. “Alexander plays the big deal, but his ’link didn’t ring while we were in there, and you can bet your ass he didn’t order a hold on communications for us. Pope’s pocket ’link hummed two different times.”

  “I didn’t notice. I did notice how clear Alexander’s desk was. No work on it.”

  “I bet Pope does most of the down-and-dirty work, the inside work, while the other plays big-shot. Doing the down-and-dirty gives you a lot of access.”

  “He doesn’t seem the type to steal, cheat, and kill.”

  “A lot of people who steal, cheat, and kill don’t, Peabody. That’s why they steal, cheat, and kill until we catch them. Let’s hit the next.”

  • • •

  The offices of Your Space spread over a two-level downtown lot. Eve figured a family of four could live there comfortably, particularly as the design reflected a home rather than a work space.

  Seating ranged around a sparkling fireplace topped with a mantel holding candlesticks and flowers. A second seating area aimed toward the wide window. In this second space a woman demonstrated something on a tablet to a young couple who appeared to be engrossed.

  Rather than security, assistants, or hard-eyed admins, one of the four founders of the firm greeted Eve and Peabody personally.

  “Latisha Vance.” The tall, ebony-skinned knockout offered a brisk handshake. “Angie’s with some new clients, but I have some time. We can talk upstairs if you like. Can I get you anything? We have some fresh cookies. They’re deadly.”

  “No, thanks,” Eve said over Peabody’s quiet moan. “Are your other partners available?”

  “Both Holly and Clare are out on jobs. I expect both of them back before long.” She led them up floating stairs painted candy pink. “You’re here about the woman who was killed, Marta Dickenson.”

  “That’s right.”

  “I talked to Mr. Gibbons that day, and he explained about the accident, and assured me it wouldn’t cause any delays.”

  “Had you ever met or spoken to Mrs. Dickenson?”

  “Yes.” Latisha walked them past a bedroom and into a spiffy, organized office where a woman worked at a computer station topped with shelves. “I’m sorry, Kassy, I need the room.”

  “No problem. I’ll pick it up in the sitting room.”

  Latisha sat on a curvy gray chair as the woman slipped out. “Kassy’s our office manager. Yes, I met Marta. The four of us went into the Brewer offices before we hired them. We like to get a feel for things. We liked the feel there, quite a bit. We liked Marta, and hoped she’d be able to take on our account, but at that time she didn’t have room for us. Jim’s great though, and we’re hoping he makes a full recovery, and quickly. But Mart . . . I just talked to her a week ago.”

  “About?”

  “Her hiring us.”

  “For?”

  “We organize. When Angie and I started, just the two of us, we focused on private homes—rooms, really. Going in, designing a system, helping the client purge, and that can be a challenge, redesigning the space if necessary, and so on. It was the Angie and Tisha show for about six months, then Holly and I started talking at the gym.”

  Latisha shifted, crossed well-toned legs. “She worked for an interior designer, and was considering going out on her own. Instead, she came in with us. Angie brought in Clare who was, in fact, an office manager. She opened us up to helping organize, reorganize, redesign office spaces. This space was Clare’s idea.”

  She gestured to indicate the loft. “Offices don’t have to look like offices to be productive and efficient, and we’d also be able to show clients what can be done, how much productivity and comfort they can pack into their space without clutter.

  “Sorry, that was off topic.”

  “No, it’s good to know.”

  “Marta contacted me. She wanted to surprise her husband, redo his home office space and their bedroom. We’d set up an appointment to go look at the site. Angie and I were to meet her there next Monday.”

  “Did you speak with her after she took over your audit?”

  “No. I intended to e-mail her the next day, just to touch base. We were all concerned for Jim, and I wanted to give her a little time to acquaint herself with our file. And then . . .”

  “You’ve been in business about five years?”

  “As we are now, yes.”

  “Business is good.”

  “It is.” She brightened up again. “Most people don�
��t know how to get started, how to let go, repurpose, reimagine. That’s what we do.”

  “And this audit is due to a potential merger.”

  “That’s right. We were approached by a company that designs and makes organizing equipment and tools. They do a nice online business, but haven’t been able to keep up more than a small storefront otherwise. What they need is an influx of cash, and a connection. We’re in talks about merging them into Your Space. Before we move to the next step, we wanted solid figures, ours and theirs, so we insisted on full audits. If we do this, it’s a big step. It would mean expanding, finding a retail and office space for that new end of the business, staffing it. We need to be sure we’re ready, financially, and both parties have to be sure the foundation’s there.”

  “Your financial adviser is on board with this?”

  “Fully aware, yes, and was working with Jim. I know, too, from the media reports that Marta’s body was found right there, at the new WIN building. It’s . . . disturbing to have so many connections to murder.”

  “You work with Jake Ingersol at WIN.”

  “Yeah. A lot of energy,” she said with a smile. “Enthusiasm. We always say we feel like we could organize the world after a session with Jake. Angie talked to him just . . . Here she is.”

  The compact brunette moved quickly, striding in, sticking out a hand to Eve, then Peabody. “Angie Carabelli. I have to say it’s great to meet you even though it’s terrible. Our goal around here is to organize Roarke World.”

  “Angie.” Latisha winced.

  “Oh, come on, it’s a fact. We’re all so sorry about Marta. We liked her, and we were looking forward to working with her. What do you need to know?”

  “We can get this out of the way if both of you can tell me where you were on the night of the murder, from nine to midnight.”

  Angie looked at Latisha. “Don’t you get tired of always being right?”

  “No.”

  “Tisha said the cops would come, and they’d ask that exact question. I said, They will not. Why? And she said—”

  “Connections,” Latisha finished.

  “So we talked about it, all of us.”

  “To get your stories straight,” Eve said mildly.

  “God, that’s just what that sounded like.” Angie let out a choked laugh. “No, just to prepare, especially since the reports said you were in charge, though we still figured you’d just send some other detectives. But I was hoping you’d come because I have this Roarke goal. Professionally,” she added with a smile.

  “If it’s in Angie’s head,” Latisha put in, “it generally comes out of her mouth.”

  “That’s true. Why hedge? It’s not efficient. And here you are, asking the question. I prepared but it still made my stomach jump.”

  “Why don’t I take this?” Latisha suggested. “We were all here—all five of us—until about nine-thirty. We had an after-hours staff meeting, and Clare made Irish stew.”

  “She likes to cook,” Angie put in. “Kassy left first. She got married last September and wanted to get home to her honey. Then Holly left to meet this guy she’s been seeing. He was taking her dancing. Nobody takes me dancing. She looked completely iced, didn’t she, Tisha?”

  “She did. Angie and Clare left together.”

  “We shared a cab. We live in the same building. One of our neighbors was having a party, so we hit that.”

  “And I locked up, went home because I currently have no life,” Latisha finished. “I walked. It’s only five blocks.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t walk alone at night,” Angie admonished.

  “I have a black belt in karate, and I carry Back-Off. I was in bed by eleven. Alone.”

  “Your own fault. If you gave Craig another chance, I think—”

  “Angie, I don’t think Lieutenant Dallas or Detective Peabody are interested in my lack of sex life at the moment.”

  “Everybody’s interested in sex, right?” She grinned at Peabody.

  “It’s hard to argue that.”

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  Peabody blinked. “All right.”

  “Was it totally surreal investigating the murder of the woman who plays you in the vid? She sort of looked like you, especially in the publicity shots. It had to be really weird.”

  In her curvy chair, Latisha just sighed.

  “It was strange, yes.”

  “And a total scandal, which just adds delicious juice—don’t roll your eyes, Tisha, it does. I’d kill to go to the New York premiere. I don’t mean literally,” she said quickly. “I’m sorry. I’m actually nervous, and I don’t get nervous. I have no nerves, except now I do. I’ve never been interviewed by the police. And then it’s you, the Icove police. And Roarke’s cop. And God, I’m sorry, but I seriously love your boots,” she said to Peabody.

  “Thanks. I do, too.”

  Latisha rose, got a bottle of water from a cabinet, handed it to her friend. “Sip, breathe. Breathe, sip.”

  “Thanks.” She breathed, she sipped. “We’re some smart, ambitious women who put their heads and talents together and made something. And we’re working on taking that up a level. We do good work, we make a good living, and we have a lot of fun doing it. And we’re really sorry about what happened to Marta.”

  Latisha reached over, gave Angie’s hand a squeeze. “That’s about it.”

  “Just a couple more things,” Eve put in. “You’re aware of the break-in at Brewer’s company?”

  “Yes. Mr. Brewer called us personally, about an hour before you came,” Latisha told Eve. “It feels as if they’re getting slammed over and over.”

  “Will the theft of your financial files cause you any problems?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think so. We’re a relatively small outfit, and what’s in the files would’ve been shared with the reps of the company we’re considering merging with. It’s a problem because it may hold up the merger, but we’re not in a hurry.”

  “We want to take our time with that,” Angie added. “It feels like a good fit, but so did those fabulous shoes I bought last week, and ended up giving to Clare after they put blisters on my blisters. You know what I’m saying?”

  Peabody had to grin. “Oh boy, do I.”

  “In any case,” Latisha continued, “Kassy talked to Jake about it. The upshot is, we’ve been smart and clean, so if the data gets out, it’s all good. And we’ve already changed all our passcodes, alerted our credit companies, and so on. It sounds like someone’s screwing with Brewer more than with us.”

  • • •

  Not assholes,” Peabody concluded as she climbed back into the car.

  “No, but not assholes also cheat, steal, and kill.”

  “I don’t see any motive.”

  “Maybe there’s something off with this merger. Maybe one of them’s skimming and the others don’t know about it.” Eve shrugged. “I don’t get a buzz either, but the connections are there.”

  “I liked them. I wonder how much they charge. McNab and I could use some organizing at our place.”

  At the moment, Eve was more interested in organizing her notes and her brain. “I’ve got a consult with Mira coming up, and I want to put some of this together before we hit the WIN partners again. You start checking alibis, top to bottom. I’m going to reach out to Vegas PD, see what there is to see on this accident that started this ball rolling.”

  SHE HAD CONSIDERABLE TO DEAL WITH BACK on her own turf. Detectives needed to run investigations by her, or update her on the status. She had to read and decipher McNab’s report on the Brewer building security and on his progress on the vic’s desk unit.

  Her own board and book required updating. Then she needed coffee and a few quiet minutes to process.

  As she added the last photos to her board, Trueheart tapped on her doorj
amb.

  “Sorry to bother you, Lieutenant. Have you got a minute . . . Hey, I know her.”

  “Who?”

  He stepped in, tapped Holly Novak’s picture.

  Intrigued, Eve gave the photo of the Your Space partner another study. Attractive, mixed race, leaning Asian. A dark wedge of hair around a lively face with light green eyes.

  “How and where?”

  “I’m looking for it,” he said. “Oh yeah, they hired her—her company—to organize and streamline my mother’s office. I mean, the office where my mother works. I was over there one day, and met her. Is she a suspect?”

  “I don’t think so, but give me a take.”

  “Friendly, energetic. Ruthless my mom said, but in a good way. Mom liked her, I know that. She said how she wished my aunt would hire her. She’s kind of a pack rat, my aunt. And when she found out I was a cop, out of Central, she said how she bet we could use a good organizer, made kind of a joke about fighting crime through spacial efficiency. I thought it was pretty funny.”

  He scanned the board as he spoke. “She and her company are connected to the Dickenson murder.”

  “There are a lot of connections to the Dickenson murder.”

  “Big business, big money.” At Eve’s questioning look, he flushed just a little. “That’s Young-Sachs and Biden. They get a lot of media, business, and gossip. The new breed of movers and shakers, and that kind of thing.”

  “Take?”

  “Well, for me spoiled, entitled, and showy. That’s probably not fair since it’s media stuff, and that gets overblown.”

  “No, I’d say it’s fair and accurate in this case. And add assholes.”

  “I guess that one was my take, too.”

  “I’d say that sums it up. What do you need, Trueheart?”

  “Oh, sorry, Lieutenant. Nothing really. I . . . just wanted to thank you for giving me a chance at the detective’s exam.”

  “You earned the chance, and Baxter made a solid case for you. The rest is up to you.”