Devoted in Death (15 page)

“Did she have trouble with anyone? Did anyone bother her?”

Kari grabbed one of her dreds, twisted it, untwisted it. “She works with models, so there’s a lot of drama and demand. She’s good at it. There’d be somebody pissed, sure, if she rejected them, or the client turned them down when she sent them out. Nobody specific that I can think of.”

“Any guys who wanted to take Mattio’s place with her?”

“Plenty. She was wasting her time with him. Take the guy across the hall.”

“Across the hall?”

“Yeah.” She dropped her hand, sighed a little. “Luke Tripp. He’s single, he’s cute, he’s interested. But she’s had her focus on Mattio, making it work with him.”

“This neighbor ever get pushy?”

“Oh God no. I wish he would, a little, and maybe she’d take more notice.”

“How about Mattio? Did he ever get pushy, physical, any kind of abuse?”

“No physical, no. ‘Abuse’?” The fire flashed against the fear again. “I think it’s abusive to be a serial cheater who turns it all around so it’s the fault of the person he cheated on. But that’s me. He’s an asshole, but he’d never hurt her that way. Or anyone. They might fight back, and hit him in his precious face.”

She asked more questions, got the clear picture of a young woman – happy and successful in her work, with an eclectic circle of friends – who’d been hung up on the wrong man for about eight months.

“Can I take a look at her room?”

“Oh, sure. Look anywhere, at anything. Can you put out a – what is it – an APB or something? Maybe she had an accident. I called the hospitals and clinics, the emergency centers. Everything I could think of, but —”

“Get me a recent photo of her,” she told Kari, to give her something to do. “We’re going to look for her.”

“You’re going to look for her.” Kari grabbed Eve’s hand. “You promise?”

“I’m looking for her now, getting information from you, seeing where she lived, seeing her things. We’ll double-check at the hospitals.” And the morgue, Eve thought.

“Thank you. Thank you so much. Her room’s this way. I’ve got lots of pictures. I’ll get one for you.”

“I’d like to have your ’link.”

“Mine, why?”

“I’m going to have someone in EDD – Electronics – try to narrow down the location. Where she was when she texted you.”

“You can do that?” Kari pulled it out of her pocket. “Here, whatever you need.”

Eve used her own to contact McNab.

“Yo, Dallas.” His pretty face came on screen – the flash of silver links curving along his ear nearly blinded her. “Snow day!”

“I need a location off a text. Can you do that without the actual ’link in your hand?”

“I’m the magic man. Tag me on it, or connect it to yours, and give me a couple mo’s. She-Body,” he called out. “Got a task for your LT going. Don’t suit up yet. We were about to put on the snow gear, head out,” he told Eve.

“I’ll tag you on the civilian’s ’link.”

“Use this code,” he said, while the screen showed his movement around the apartment to the second bedroom they used as a mutual office.

She used the code he gave her, heard the signal on his end.

“Okay, what model are you using?”

“How the hell do I know?”

“Never mind, wait, let me…” She saw his comp now, and the codes flashing over his screen. “There it is, okay. Order Function/Control/Interface.”

She did as he instructed, felt the ’link vibrate lightly in her hand.

“Texts coming up. Which ones are you after?”

“That one.” She could just see Jayla’s name on McNab’s screen. “The last one from Jayla Campbell.”

“  ‘Wine and whine,’ nice one. Couple more mo’s on this. Did you know the ’link’s deactivated?”

“How?”

“I can dig into that if you want, but it’s nonresponsive. This text was sent near Carmine and Sixth. Somewhere in a two-block area.”

Peabody’s face pushed onto the screen. “What’s up? Do you have something hot?”

“I’ve got something. I’m currently on Bond, checking out a possible missing person. You head over to Carmine, talk to the people who gave a party last night.” She reeled off the address. “Subject’s name is Jayla Campbell. Get what you can. Save me time and tag Uniform Carmichael, have him check medicals for Campbell. I’ll get back to you.”

“You are looking for her,” Kari said from behind her. “You think something really bad happened to her.”

“Whatever’s happened, I’m looking for her.”

Eve got a good sense of Jayla Campbell. She liked popular music, nothing too cutting edge, nothing too nostalgic. She had a love affair going with shoes, and kept her wardrobe separated into the professional wear, the party wear and the hangout wear.

She leaned toward the conservative in sex, opted for the yearly birth-control implant – and was due for a recharge there in three months.

She liked her work, had hopes to climb the ladder to full partner, and struggled to keep steady on a healthy nutrition and exercise routine.

She had a younger sister, still in college, and parents who were going to celebrate their twenty-sixth anniversary in the fall.

She believed, according to the journal she kept on her bedroom comp, she was the woman to make Mattio a star, and to make him a good man.

Not in love with him, Eve deduced. Thinks she is, but it’s not the long-haul. And there was just enough about Luke Tripp – the cute neighbor – to show Jayla was paying some attention there.

She enjoyed a varied social life, much of it work-centered, kept a decent budget with occasional splurges – which included hair and skin care, an apparent priority.

By the time Eve left the apartment, she visualized a woman with a good work ethic, one who enjoyed interaction with people – friends and strangers alike. A dependable woman. Not one who would leave her closest friend and roommate hanging and worried.

She knocked on the door across the hall.

The man who opened the door had a compact body and an attractive face. His dark hair stuck up in wild tufts, as if he’d combed it with a rake. And his eyes, warmly blue, widened when she held up her badge.

“Luke Tripp?”

“Yeah. You’re the police. Did you find her?”

“No, we haven’t.”

“Ah, Jesus.” He dragged his fingers through his hair, added more tufts. “Kari just told me about an hour ago. I’ve been tagging everybody I can think of, but nobody’s seen her.”

“When did you last see or speak to her?”

“We got home from work at the same time yesterday, walked in together. Talked for a couple minutes, like you do. Later, about nine maybe, I was restless, so I decided I’d hit the gym. It’s right around the corner. I rode down in the elevator with her and Mattio.”

He said the name in a spit of contempt.

“Don’t like him much.”

“At all,”
Luke corrected. “He’s an asshole, and he treats her like crap. She deserves better.”

“Like you?”

He let out a half laugh, then just sighed. “I wish.”

“How about after the gym?”

“After? I… Oh, well, God, you’re looking for where I was when she went missing.” This time he pressed his fingers to his eyes. “Okay, anything that helps. I ran into a couple gym buddies, and we went out for a brew. I’d’ve been home by midnight. Do you want to come in, do you want to look around?”

“No. I’m just crossing things off the list.”

“Kari said she was upset about Mattio – big surprise – but you’ve got to trust me. She’d never do this to Kari, never just drop off the grid. They’re family.”

No, Eve thought when she left the building, the woman she pictured had a good, solid sense of responsibility, and wouldn’t do this to a friend.

Eve pulled out her ’link to coordinate with Peabody on the next step.

9

She arranged to meet Peabody at Mattio Diaz’s building, on the west edge of Greenwich Village. She didn’t have the same happy luck with parking, and had to settle on a price-gouging underground lot three snow-packed blocks away.

The hike convinced her Roarke had been right – as usual – about the boots.

The snow kept the traffic, pedestrian and vehicular – thinner than normal in the trendy neighborhood, and she noted several stores had opted to close, at least for the morning.

She spotted a glide-cart operator dressed for exploring Siberia, down to the goggles. A couple of indeterminate sex huddled in the steam of his grill over a bag of chestnuts that scented the air. And a gang of kids raced by with the manic energy that told her schools had taken a snow day.

She spotted Peabody – pink coat ridiculously cheerful through the thick curtain of snow – and McNab with her. He wore atomic cherry with an earflap hat of such eye-burning colors she imagined it had come from Peabody’s oddly skilled hands.

They, too, huddled over a bag of chestnuts.

“Hey, Dallas!” Like the coats, Peabody’s voice was ripe with cheer. “Did you hear?”

“Hear what?”

“We’re going to get six to eight inches!”

“Well, whoopee.”

“I didn’t have anything cooking,” McNab began, and held out the bag to share. “I asked Feeney, and he said to come on along.”

She shook her head at the chestnuts which then vanished into one of his half a million pockets. “Fine. I’m going to talk to the reputed dickwad about what happened last night. I could use you to triangulate. Peabody’s got the locations of the snatch and dump on Kuper. Let’s see how it plays with the area where Campbell sent the text last night.”

“I can be all over that and back in no time.”

“Let’s get the hell out of this damn snow.”

“It’s so pretty.” Peabody turned her face up to it, let it catch on her eyelashes.

“It’s also going to make it harder for us to dig up anybody who might have seen Campbell or the people I strongly suspect grabbed her. What did you get from the party people?”

“Nothing much. A couple of guys threw the party – good space for one. Neither of them even realized she was gone. Didn’t know her anyway. But there was another guy there this morning – stayed over.”

“Had a threesome,” McNab put in as Eve used her master to get into the building. “Definitely.”

“I have to say yes to that,” Peabody confirmed. “The third guy talked with her some. He wants to get into modeling. He’s got the looks. She gave him her card. And he noticed she had some words with Diaz – who’d been sexy dancing – with a lot of hands on various body parts – with a blonde. Wit says she was really steamed, and he couldn’t blame her as it was pretty in-your-face. He said something to the blonde after he saw Campbell grab her coat and take off. The blonde’s name is Misty Lane.”

“The hell it is.” Eve shook snow off her coat.

“Yeah,
professional
name. A model/actress/cocktail waitress. The blonde just laughed it off, and said guys like Mattio were for fun, not for keeps. He says it was after midnight, but couldn’t pin it down.”

“Good enough.”

The converted-to-lofts warehouse boasted a freight elevator some people found charming. Eve considered them death traps and opted for the stairs.

“Nadine’s thinking about a place like this,” Peabody said.

“Like this?”

“On her list of possibilities. Big, trendy loft space. The others are a brownstone – a la Charles and Louise. And the third’s a multilevel penthouse type condo in some slick building.”

“Number three,” Eve said.

“Oh, did she decide? Last I talked to her Roarke had given her some different properties to look over, but that’s as far as she’d gotten.”

“That’s what she will decide.”

“Maybe, but whichever way she goes, she’s after full, top-of-the-line security. That near-miss with Roebuck scared her.”

“Good. I told her not to open the damn door. Next time she won’t.” Eve paused on the third floor. Despite the momentary stupidity, Nadine Furst was a friend. “She’s doing okay?”

“Yeah. She took a delayed vacation – solo this time. Just a few days. She’s already back – mostly, I think, because she wants to move as soon as she can.”

And, Eve imagined, because the top on-screen crime-beat reporter couldn’t stay away from the action for long.

She knew the feeling.

She buzzed at Diaz’s door, and got a tinny computerized voice.

Mr. Diaz has engaged the Do Not Disturb option.
There was a jumble of noise, a sort of wheeze – as if the comp had asthma.
Please leave your name.

“Cheap tech,” McNab commented. “Bottom of the barrel.”

Cheap tech or not, it currently stood in her way. Eve took out her badge. “Scan this,” she ordered. “This is official police business. Inform Diaz now.”

The scanning function is currently inactivated. Please leave your name.

Eve pressed the buzzer, held it down.

The Do Not Disturb
– through the speaker came the equivalent of a computer death rattle –
Name leave unable to process.

Ruthlessly, Eve ignored the dying gasps, kept her finger on the buzzer.

It took more than a few of McNab’s mo’s, but the next sound was human.

“What the fuck!”

“NYPSD. Open the door, Mr. Diaz.”

“Well, Jesus, it’s barely
morning
.”

Things rattled and thunked, and the door cracked open.

Yeah, he was a looker, Eve thought, even half asleep and obviously strung-out. Unearthly green eyes, thick black lashes, chiseled cheeks covered with scruff and a tumble of dark hair streaked with red gave him the kind of polished sexy used on billboards.

“You can let us in, Mr. Diaz, or we’ll arrange to have this conversation at Central.”

“Central what?”

Apparently the gods had used up their quota on his face, and hadn’t had much left over for brains.

“We’re cops, so that would be Cop Central.”

“What the fuck!”

“The fuck will be explained in the course of the conversation.”

“Well, Jesus,” he said again, and opened the door.

He hadn’t bothered with clothes – apparently the quota had included the body that matched the face on the scale.

Beside her Peabody gulped audibly.