Obsession in Death (14 page)

His mouth thinned. “Another message for you?”

“That’s right.”

“I’ll tag Jen – Jen Kobechek. She’s the best we’ve got.”

“That’ll save me time. Appreciate it.”

“Gotta take care of each other.” He signaled to his crew. “Let’s sweep it out.”

Eve walked back, got into the car.

“You’re going to tell me we’re going underground,” Peabody began.

“Maybe not. Carmine Atelli owns Gametown. We dealt with him briefly when we went down for Ledo a couple years ago. He has a place in the Hudson Towers.”

“Swank.”

“A nest of rabid rats is swank compared to the underground.” Eve slid into traffic. “He’s more likely home this time of day than below, so we’ll check it. But we’re going to make another stop first.”

As it was still shy of nine, Eve tried Hilly Decker’s apartment first. The slapdash, post-Urbans triple-decker needed a face-lift, but it held its own in a neighborhood of struggling-to-claw-up-to-middle-income housing and shops.

Inside it smelled faintly of someone’s breakfast burrito. The inhuman wail of a baby rattled the walls of the first floor.

“Why do kids always make that sound? Like somebody’s stabbing them in the ear?”

“It’s about all they got,” Peabody told her. “Something hurts, they’re hungry or just pissed off, all they got is crying.”

“Strikes me they’re just pissed off most of the time.”

The sound eased slightly on the second level, or was drowned out more by someone playing a morning talk show at ear-thumping volume.

Eve banged a fist on 2-A.

No cam, she noted, no palm plate, but an electronic peep and good sturdy locks.

“Hold on, Mrs. Missenelli!”

The door wrenched open. Hilly Decker stood, one stubby-heeled half boot in her hand, the other on her left foot. She wore a black skirt and vest with a pale blue shirt under it. Several big silver clips stuck haphazardly through her brown hair.

Her eyes, the color of kiwis, popped wide.

“You’re not Mrs. Missenelli! Ohmygodohmygodohmygod!”

She ran the words together into one hysterical squeal, dropped the boot, bounced up and down. “Oh my
GOD
! You’re Eve Dallas. You’re her. Here. You’re here.”

“We need to speak with you, Ms. Decker.”

“Oh my God, I just have to hug you.” As Hilly lurched forward, arms out, Eve put both her hands up.

“No,” she said, definitely.

“Right, right, sorry. God. You’re not a hugger. I know, I’m just so
excited
. Oh my God. My heart’s racing. You should feel my heart. Do you want to? No. Sorry. Oh my God.”

Peabody elbowed in. “Can we come in, Ms. Decker?”

“Oh God,
yes
. Please. I know you, too. Peabody! Is it just amazing working with Eve Dallas? Is it just like ultra-abso-mag?”

“I’m living the dream.” Somewhat concerned Eve might punch if Hilly lost her mind and tried for another hug, Peabody insinuated herself between them. “Maybe we could sit down.”

“Oh yeah, sure! Is the place a mess? It’s not too bad,” she decided, rushing around on one shoe, fluffing pillows. “It could be worse. It has been worse, especially when Luca was around. My ex?” She beamed at Eve. “Remember, I told you about him.”

“Sit,” Eve ordered.

“Okay.” Hilly sat, obedient as a puppy and twice as frisky. “I feel like I’m jumping out of my own skin, and…” She waved her hands in front of her face, blinking rapidly. “I promised myself I wouldn’t cry when I finally met you, and here I go anyway. This is just the best day of my life!”

“Where were you at six this morning?”

“What? Sleeping. Oh, I should get you coffee! I don’t have the kind you drink. I can’t afford it, but I tried it once just to see. It’s seriously ulta. I’ve got Pepsi, though. I can get you a tube of Pepsi.”

“Sit,” Eve ordered again when Hilly jumped up. “Were you alone – at six this morning?”

“Oh yeah. I haven’t been interested in anybody since Luca. After we broke up, I asked myself: What would Eve do? It really helps me to think things through that way. WWED! And I thought, Well, Eve would sit back, take some stock, just live life, you know?”

Radiating joy, she hugged herself.

“I was getting upset you never wrote me back, but here you are. Right here. I don’t know how many times I walked by Central and tried to drum up the courage to go in, see you. I just knew if we ever got the chance to just talk, we’d totally click. Like, you know, sisters.”

“December twenty-seventh, between five and seven in the evening. Where were you?”

“When was that?”

“Two days ago,” Peabody said helpfully. “Two days after Christmas.”

“Oh, right! My mind’s just
blown
! I was right here. Recovery time from Christmas, you know? I had to go see the fam – three
days
of fam – and that takes it out of me. Our offices are closed this week, so I had the day off work. I’m only going in today because I have a court thing. So I just hung here, watched screen. We could go out tonight, totally have drinks.

“The Blue Squirrel!” she announced, inspired. “Do you still hang there? I’ve been a few times, but never saw you.”

“Did you see or speak to anyone?”

“When?”

“December twenty-seventh, between five and seven.”

“No. Did I? I don’t know. Who remembers?”

Eve leaned forward. “Think about it.”

“Oh well, okay, if that’s what you want. Um… Oh, that must be Mrs. Missenelli. She’ll
die
to meet you. I’ve told her all about you.”

When Hilly sprang up to rush to the door, Eve squeezed her eyes tight.

“Mother of God,” she muttered.

“She’s still wearing one shoe,” Peabody pointed out. “No way, Dallas, no way this is the crafty, controlled, organized killer.”

“Mrs. Missenelli, and Toby.” All smiles and shiny eyes, Hilly came back holding an enormous and fluffy white cat and towing a tiny woman with a helmet of shoe-black hair. “
This
is Eve Dallas.”

“Metcha,” the woman said, and looked mildly annoyed.

“Can you believe it? Can you believe she’s here?”

“I’m dumbfounded. You’re gonna drop Toby by the groomer’s, right, Hilly?”

“Sure, sure, on my way to court. I’ve got to be in court by ten, but I’ve got plenty of time to visit first,” she told Eve, “and get Toby to the groomer’s. It’s right on the way. Do you want to hold him? You have a cat.”

“No. Thanks.”

“Toby should meet Galahad. I bet they’d be best friends, too.” Hilly snuggled the giant cat. “We were just talking about how we spent the day after the day after Christmas, Mrs. Missenelli.”

“Between five and seven in the evening,” Eve repeated. “December twenty-seventh. Did you see or speak to anyone during that window of time?”

“I don’t know.”

“You saw me, you spoke to me. Jumping Jesus, Hilly, your brain’s always scattered. Don’t know how you get yourself up every day.”

Missenelli fisted her hands on bony hips. “I came over here, asked you about Toby and the groomer’s. Right about six o’clock, because Mr. Missenelli was watching his show, and it comes on at six. And you still in your pajamas – nice ones though, like I said.”

“From my aunt, for Christmas.”

“You had a glass of wine, and you said I should have one, and since I hate Mr. Missenelli’s six o’clock show, I did. Now, you make sure Toby gets to the groomer’s. I appreciate it. You’re a good girl, Hilly.” Missenelli arrowed back at Eve. “Now what’s all this about?”

“Routine,” Eve said.

“Don’t hand me that. This is about that dead lawyer lady, isn’t it? I heard about that.”

“Bastwick?” Hilly’s eyes popped again. “Leanore Bastwick? You’re here about… murder. But, but, but, I didn’t even
know
her. I thought – I thought you came just to meet me, and talk. And we’d – we’d – we’d hang out. Am I a suspect? Oh my God.”

“Not anymore,” Eve said.

When Hilly burst into tears, hovered over by Mrs. Missenelli, who sent Eve the serious stink eye, Eve got out.

“I think you broke Hilly’s heart.”

“Oh, you’re funny, Peabody. I’m cracking up inside.”

She strode out, got back in the car with a headache throbbing like a tooth. “ ‘Living the dream’?”

“Day in, day out,” Peabody said cheerfully.

“Dreams can become nightmares really fast,” Eve warned, and bulleted away from the curb.

8

Eve pulled up at the lofty dual towers spearing over the Hudson. Since she wasn’t in the mood for snotty, superior doormen, she flipped on her On Duty light and got out of the car, badge in hand.

The doorman, decked in ruby-red jacket with silver braiding, silver pants with a red tuxedo stripe, scowled at it, at her, at the dead ordinary vehicle.

“We only let prime rides sit out here. We got an ambience to uphold.”

“Ambience? Is that why you’re decked out like something that should be on some weird little girl’s doll shelf?”

The muscle in his jaw twitched. “We got an underground lot,” he began.

“This is my badge, that’s my vehicle – and it stays where I put it.”

“Look, look, I’m not trying to give you trouble. My brother-in-law’s on the job in Queens.”

“Good for him. Carmine Atelli.”

The doorman heaved a long, windy sigh. “Penthouse West. Badge or not, you’re going to have to log in, and they’re going to buzz up to Mr. Atelli, ask if he’ll receive. He works nights, so he mostly sleeps days.”

“I’m his wake-up call.”

With Peabody, Eve walked into the slick, shiny lobby with its glossy red walls, silver floors. Huge black vases flanked a seating area, filled with flowers that looked like they’d been plucked from a garden on Venus.

Ambience, she thought. It took all kinds.

A table held a bowl of glossy red apples, and a sleek black computer.

“You’ve got to log in there,” the doorman told her. “You can’t access the elevators unless you have a swipe or you log in and get cleared.”

Eve held her badge up for scanning. “Dallas, Lieutenant Eve, Peabody, Detective Delia, NYPSD.”

One moment, please, for verification…

“You could cut through this bullshit,” she said to the doorman.

He pokered up in a way that made Eve think he didn’t much like his brother-in-law in Queens.

“I’m not supposed to clear anybody up without the resident’s say-so.”

Identification verified for Dallas, Lieutenant Eve, Peabody, Detective Delia. Please state the nature of your business and/or the resident you wish to visit.

“Carmine Atelli, Penthouse West.”

One moment please while Mr. Atelli is notified. Would you like to state the nature of your visit?

“You got two cops in the lobby. Guess.”

Unable to comply.

“Underground business must be good,” Peabody commented to the doorman. “For Atelli to rate a place like this.”

“Couldn’t say. I haven’t been down there since I was sixteen and lost a bet.” The doorman hustled over to open the door for a woman wrapped in a blue coat, with a mile of multicolored scarf wrapped around her neck, an earflap hat pulled low over her head, and thick mittens on her hands.

She had three yappy little dogs, all in plaid sweaters – and, to Eve’s amazement, tiny boots – on leashes.

“Thanks, Chester.”

She led the yapping, booted dogs to the elevators, hauling and clucking when they tried to drag her to Eve and Peabody.

“Sorry!” She trilled out a laugh. “They don’t bite!”

She pulled a swipe out of her pocket, then made kissing noises and herded the trio into the elevator.

“Those dogs had boots.”

“I guess their paws get cold,” Peabody said.

“Huh. Who makes tiny dog boots? Who thinks to make tiny dog boots? How do you know what size to buy? This is an area with many, many questions.”

Mr. Atelli will receive you. Please use Elevator C. Enjoy your visit, and the rest of your day.

The elevator rode swiftly and silently to the penthouse level, then opened into a private foyer painted dove-wing gray and holding a pair of black lacquer benches. A large white orchid bowed between them from a pedestal in the form of an elongated, naked woman.

Niches ranged on the opposing walls, all filled with jewel-toned bottles and statues – all women in various states of undress.

Even as she stepped up to press the button on the inner door, Carmine opened it.

He wore black lounging pants in a silky hue, and some sort of short black robe, open over a snug white tank. Gilded blond hair fell in tousled waves around a sharply handsome face. He smiled, gestured them in. A large stone winked on his finger – the same silvery blue as his eyes.

“Ladies, an unexpected pleasure.”

“Not ladies, not a pleasure. Cops and police business.”

“Different perspectives. Please, come in, sit.”

Windows backed the living area, with dwarf lemon trees, heavy with fruit, bathing in the pale winter sun that slipped through them.

Low-slung gel sofas in navy, double-wide chairs in navy and gray stripes ranged with tables with a dull nickel finish. Splashes of color came from the art – the female form again, in every hue, sinuous or robust, sensual or pastoral.

As he gestured for them to sit, a woman wandered down a curve of steps. Her hair tumbled, flame-red, down the back of a short, white robe that gapped open enough to showcase impressive breasts – and the fact that she was a natural redhead, or had her hair colored above and below.

Her voice, sleepy as her cat-green eyes, purred. “You want coffee, baby?”

“Sure do. I wake you up?”

“The ringer did, but that’s okay. Josie’s out though.”

“Maybe we’ll both wake her up when I’m done here.” He sent her a grin and a wink, got a husky laugh as she kept wandering out of sight.

“So, Lieutenant, Detective.” He spread his hands as he sat. “What can I do for you?”

“What time did you get home this morning, Carmine?” Eve asked him.

“About five-thirty, I think. I took off a little early this morning as Josie’s in town. A good friend,” he added, “who’s been in Europe for a few months. She and Vivi and I had a drink – here – then went to bed. Is there a problem with my place?”