Chapter Three #2
“None of them are sure of the time they woke up. Acker—the housekeeper—heard screaming, or thought she did. She said it took her a minute or two to realize it really was screaming, then she jumped out of bed. Their rooms are downstairs. She says she banged on the butler’s door first, then ran up, and found the wife on the floor, cradling the victim, still screaming.
The victim’s sister had her ’link out, contacting nine-one-one.
“The butler came onto the scene, then the cook. They all corroborate. Tyler says he heard Acker bang on his door, shout something was wrong. That’s when he heard the screams. Fortigue, the cook, said she heard banging and running, then the screaming.”
“And leading up to all that?”
“Barrister wasn’t feeling well. The cook made him chicken soup, and he went up to bed not long after dinner.
The butler and housekeeper were already in their quarters by then.
Fortigue states Aileen Carville was concerned about Barrister, that he tended to get a respiratory deal late summer, early fall.
The sister said something about he’d always done that, it wouldn’t be serious.
She went down to her quarters about eight-thirty. ”
“Any sense of conflict in the household?”
“Nothing. The sister’s been here for about ten days, and plans to stay for about another week or two, or however long it takes the crews to finish the work on her condo.
Both the victim and his sister go into work through the week, generally leaving by eight-thirty. Carville generally works at home.”
Peabody finished off the last of the coffee Divine had made her.
“The victim and his family moved in the second week of May. There were some worries—with the staff—whether they’d sell. All three state they’ve come to consider this home as much as employment, so they’ve been grateful the victim and his family kept the house, and kept them on.”
Peabody glanced around. “They’re also happy about the changes they’ve made. My impression? They respected and admired Henry Barrister, but they really liked Nathan Barrister. Liked the whole family.”
McNab pranced in, blond tail of hair with its red tip swinging. His bony ass was covered with baggies the color Eve thought you’d get if you mated an orange with an eggplant. Since his shirt screamed in orange and purple zigzags, she assumed that was deliberate.
His usual forest of hoops and studs curved up both ears.
“Wild digs. And holy shit, that vault. It’s like the high of high-class pawn shops. And the actual vault? It’s like way last century. Classic. If it hadn’t been open, I could’ve cracked that baby in about fifteen minutes.”
Then he grinned. “I figure Roarke for under half of that. But still.”
“Security?” Eve said.
“Right. Definite breach. The system’s dated, too.
Solid enough, but an easy decade or more behind.
Broke in right through the office window.
What they did? Unlocked it electronically, then just opened it, came through.
Didn’t bother to lock it on the way out.
Slick enough,” he added, “but it didn’t take that much with this system. ”
Eve started out for the office. “Did the morgue pick up the body?”
“Yeah. The sweepers just got here. We opened the tablet—just a standard password deal. It’s got everything in there listed. Plus what the dude paid for it, when he got whatever, what it’s worth, all of it.”
She stopped in the office doorway, watched sweepers taking samples of blood, others bagging the amethyst or dusting surfaces.
“Where’s Roarke?”
“He wanted to check something outside. We’ve been through the place—a lot of place to go through. Just surface right now. But going by surface, it doesn’t look like anything’s out of place except in here. I took a look through the desk ’link—nothing hinky. Same on the one in the second office.”
“I’m going to talk to the sweepers, do a pass through the main level. From the tablet, do we know what’s missing?”
“Yeah, it’s jewelry, emeralds and diamonds. Big-ass emeralds, a shitload of diamonds. Something called the Royal Suite, and worth like a quarter of a freaking billion. The expert says some more than that. Extreme wow on that. Anyway, we made you a copy of the data. Roarke’s got it.”
“Maybe that explains why they only took one thing. Grab that and leave. Except, the victim interrupted.”
She turned as the housekeeper stepped out, both evidence bags of bloody clothes in her hands.
“Ms. Carville’s nightclothes, Lieutenant.” She handed her the one in her right hand. “And Ms. Barrister’s. Do you want mine? Some blood transferred when I…”
“No. You didn’t have any on you before you went upstairs.”
Despite looking weary to the bone, despite the more recent signs of tears, the woman seemed rock steady.
“Ms. Carville?”
“She contacted her daughters. It was … difficult. Ms. Barrister’s arranging a shuttle for them for the trip to New York.
After, I convinced her to drink a soother.
I was afraid to try anything stronger, since they’d given her a sedative.
I think she’ll sleep awhile. I hope she will. Is there anything more I can do?”
“I’d like to see downstairs.”
“Of course. If you’ll come with me.”
“McNab, stick with the sweepers unless Roarke needs you. I want security locks on the crime scene windows, and monitors in place. See if Roarke can change the combo of the vault.”
“Copy that.”
“Peabody, with me.”
Uma took them back into the kitchen, into a mudroom area and the back stairs. Stairs, Eve noted, that led both down and up.
“Should I call for John and Divine?”
“No, no need.”
“Originally, the downstairs area held more bedrooms for staff. Men’s quarters on one side, women’s on the other. The kitchen, the servants’ hall. When the house served as a museum, much of this area was for storage, repair, cleaning, authenticating, and so on.”
The stairs opened into a good-sized lounge with entertainment screen, a couple of sofas, a few comfortable-looking chairs.
“During the Urbans, the museum was ransacked, damaged, then abandoned as others were during that period and for a time after. Mr. Henry Barrister purchased it, and did extensive repairs. This is now our shared lounge. Divine enjoys jigsaw puzzles.”
She gestured to a table where one was in progress. “John and I may add a piece or two now and then. We have an eat-in kitchen, our rooms with en suites. There are two other bedrooms, but since I came to Barrister House, only three live-in staff.
“Occasionally, other temporary staff may be housed for large events.”
She broke off, closed her eyes. “Did he suffer? Do you think he suffered?”
“I don’t think so.”
Uma nodded, pressed her lips together. “We share an office. Though Divine prefers to work on her menus, food orders, and so on in the main kitchen or her own room. I generally use the desk in my room, but John and I have no issues on sharing the office space.”
“In all the years you’ve worked here, you’ve never been inside the vault?”
“I didn’t know there was a vault until I heard you talk about it tonight. Until I saw, just now … I don’t understand it.”
“Who cleaned the office?”
“When the first Mr. Barrister occupied it, he used a droid. Since then, I’ve done the daily cleaning, and our cleaning service would clean once a month.”
“I’ve got the name and contact for the service, Lieutenant.”
Eve just nodded at Peabody as she roamed the space. “Any outside egress?”
“Yes.” She led the way into the kitchen, white and spotless, and through it to a walk-in pantry with steps leading up to slanted doors.
“For emergencies, and I’ve never used them in the two decades I’ve lived and worked here.”
Eve climbed up, examined the locks, the security pad, and put it on her list for the sweepers.
“Did you have plans if Mr. Barrister had decided to sell the house?”
“As I said, this has been my place for half my life. I think I might have taken some time to decide, to plan. Henry Barrister remembered us in his will. He was a generous man, so I could have afforded to take time. We were allowed to stay, that was Nathan Barrister’s generosity, while they considered their options. ”
“Okay. I’ll be upstairs. When we leave, the office will be sealed, and we’ll have officers stay on the premises.”
“You must find who did this, Lieutenant. He was a good man. A good son, a good husband and father.”
“Finding who did this is our priority. We’ll be in touch. If anything occurs to you, however trivial, contact me.”
“Believe me, I will.” The first hint of anger broke through the shock and grief. “Someone came into our home and took a life. Believe me, I will. Good night, Lieutenant, Detective.”
Eve head-gestured to Peabody and started for the stairs. As they went up, Peabody glanced back.
“It’s a really nice, comfortable space. It’s like sharing a big, three-bedroom apartment. And no commute to work.”
“Roarke and McNab probably took a look at that lock. I want the sweepers to dust it anyway. No commute to work,” she repeated as Peabody closed the door behind them.
“Easy to get out of the office, back downstairs. If you’re smart—and why wouldn’t you be?
—you’d stage it to look like a break-in.
Murder of the moment, most likely, but the theft had to be planned. ”
She walked back out and into the entrance hall.
“Quick trip up and down the stairs this way, too.”
“You don’t really think it’s an inside job?”
“Not discounting it. It’s as easy to believe the staff knew about the vault as it is to believe they didn’t. It’s been there a long time.”
One of the white-suited sweepers came in, shoved up her goggles. “We’re about done in there, Lieutenant. Want us to seal it?”
“No. I’ll take care of that. There’s a lock and security pad downstairs, behind the kitchen area—outside doors, up a ladder. Process that. Inside and out.”
“Will do. Some vault, huh?”