Stolen in Death by J. D. Robb

Author:J. D. Robb
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Publishing Group

Chapter Thirteen

On the way to Central, she got two tags. She found them a nice distraction from the ad blimps telling her to Fall into Style.

As she took them, Peabody eyed the in-dash AC. Eve held up two fingers.

“Okay, Mira has clear time at ten, and that gives me space to check with Feeney, update. Roarke says the lawyer will make time for me at my convenience.”

Peabody passed Eve her coffee. “What kind of lawyer works on a cop’s convenience?”

“He’s Roarke’s estate lawyer, too. And I guess he’s mine, sort of.”

“That explains that. It’ll make it easier to get information. I mean, the family gave him the go to talk to us, but this’ll make it easier.”

“I guess we’ll find out. Ms. Fancy.”

Pausing at a light, she drummed her fingers on the wheel, watched a woman, sleek in black skin pants, jog with a golden-haired dog across the intersection. A man in a business suit talked on his earpiece, briefcase in hand, as he strode after her. Coming the opposite way, a sidewalk sleeper pushed his cart of belongings and talked to himself while a uniformed nanny hauled up her toddler charge to her hip and gave him a wide berth.

New York had it all.

“Ms. Fancy,” Eve repeated as the light changed. “Is that an actual name or one Henry just hooked on her? Even if it was the name she went by, that doesn’t mean it was her real name.”

She pulled into the garage, parked. “I’m tossing the name at Abernathy. Maybe they have a file on that name.”

“He’s in the media deal, right?”

“Yeah, I’ll toss it then. Yancy?”

“He’s in the field now.” Together, they walked to the elevator. “He’s got another ahead of us at one, but he’ll plug them in after that.”

“Good enough.” Eve stepped in, stuck her hands in her pockets, jiggled loose change. “Here’s how I see it. Fancy Blonde’s kept in touch. He’s a prime mark, so she keeps a hand in. She realizes he’s slipping some, mentally. An even better mark now.”

Eve shuffled back as the elevator stopped and cops shuffled on.

“Gets herself the invite to stay a few days. Maybe she’s just in it for whatever she can charm him out of. Shopping, macaroons, pressed panties.”

A uniform glanced back at her. “Pressed panties? Is that a dessert or something?”

“Or something.” Since the doors opened again, Eve got off for the glides. “Maybe she figures she can snag something in his will, or get a quick marriage out of him. How bad could it be when he’s over a hundred and losing it? And frail—they’ve all said frail. But.”

“He shows her the vault. I can see that,” Peabody agreed. “But if she’s on the grift, why doesn’t she just slip a couple things into her shopping bags, then book it?”

“Can’t do that. He might notice. He’s losing it, but these are big fucking deals, and if he sees something’s gone, it points at her. He’s got a lot of money, Peabody, a lot of contacts.

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