Chapter Nine
She couldn’t have slept deeper if she’d been laid out in a drawer in the morgue. He gave her the hour, then stretched it another thirty minutes. When she began to stir, he set aside the work.
When he got to the bedroom, she sat up, tangled in the throw, one hand absently stroking the cat.
Her face looked warm from sleep, her eyes still heavy with it.
He went to the AutoChef for coffee.
As she had that morning, she took the mug in both hands.
“Twice in one day. Right? It’s still today? I feel like I slept a week.”
“It’s the very same day.”
As she drank coffee, he could all but see her mind wake up. And she smiled at him.
“Maybe I could take another hour.”
He leaned in, kissed her. “You’ll have a meal first. We’ll take another hour later on.”
“Huh. Well, if you don’t want to get me naked, I need to update my board and—”
“A meal, Eve. That’s first for you. And while you have it, I’ll tell you about the financials I’ve been through.”
“Did you find—”
“While we eat. I’ll handle the burgers. You can deal with the chips—fries,” he corrected, “you’ll want with it. As I do, come to think of it. And I’m in the mood for a pint.”
“I wouldn’t mind a beer.”
“Good. You’ll want your jacket and boots.”
She reached for her boots. “It’s not the wife. I have to look into the whole gambling, addiction, blackmail, sex-on-the-side thing, but it’s not going to be the wife.”
“I’ll agree with you.” He handed her jacket to her. “Let’s start the grill and have a pint.”
“I’ve lost track of the time.”
“It’s half past I’m bloody hungry.”
Amused and awake, she went down with him. While he did whatever he did to get the grill going—she stayed out of that one—she sipped a beer.
Cooler, she thought, than the last time they’d done the sit-outside deal. But pleasant. Before long, the scent of grilling meat joined the perfume of flowers. For her contribution, she went into the kitchen—definitely not her domain—and programmed the AutoChef for a basket of fries.
Glancing around, she thought of the Barrister cook. She figured Divine would approve of this—enormous—space. Slick, sleek, efficient, but still, like the air outside, pleasant.
It smelled a little like vanilla, a little like lemons. In fact, she spotted a glass bowl of lemons on a counter. One of the windows had a glass bump-out thing where green plants thrived. She knew they were herbs—she wasn’t a complete idiot—but had no idea what Summerset did with them.
She took the fries out as Roarke put the plates with their burgers on the patio table.
“It’s a pretty nice kitchen.”
At her comment, his eyebrow winged up. “Do you think so then?”
“I see a lot of kitchens.” She sat, scooped fries onto her plate, and gave them a good snow shower of salt. “This one has the same sort of feel as the Barristers’. I mean that someone who enjoys it uses it.”
“Summerset does enjoy it, but won’t be using it this evening. He just let me know he ran into Mavis and company at the street fair. They invited him back to the house for dinner.”
“That’s somebody else who likes a kitchen. Peabody probably gets a nice little orgasm every time she walks into hers now. And Mavis is getting into the whole thing, too.”
She took a bite of burger. “That’s never going to happen with me.”
“I believe I’d worry a bit if it did.”
“But we’re good, right?” She gestured with a fry. “We put this together. It’s not like we’d starve.”
“We’re fine and good.”
“Since we’re fine and good, how about that update? The financials?”
“Before that, I’ll tell you I spoke with Brian. Since the story broke, there’s been considerable talk. Speculation, as he put it. And he gave me a few names of people in the business of thievery who might pull off a job such as this.”
“How many names?”
“Eight to start, and I imagine your friends at Interpol know most of them.”
“I’ll run them.”
“To save you some time, I eliminated four of them, as I confirmed they were nowhere in or near New York at the time of the murder.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because.” He gestured with a fry back at her. “I’m the expert consultant. The other four’s whereabouts are more nebulous, so might warrant a look.”
“They’ll get one. Do you know any of them?”
“A few, by reputation. None personally.” He smiled at her as he ate. “We don’t have conventions or monthly meetings, darling. Not even a secret handshake.”
“But you never worked with any on this particular list.”
“I didn’t, no. If and when I worked with others, each would have a specific area.”
She gestured again. “Such as?”
“Well now, say you wanted to hit a bank. Not with the bursting in with weapons, all the shouting, and people huddled on the floor. That’s messy and too often violent.
But you might want to find your way into a vault or some particular safe-deposit boxes.
You might put together a team where everyone has their own area of expertise. ”
Eve decided her best response was a grunt.
“If it helps? If I were to have planned the Barrister House job, I’d have worked alone, and I’d give you a probability of ninety that’s what happened here. It’s a basic job. The take’s staggering, but the work’s basic.”
“A man’s dead.”
“And shouldn’t be. Not only for human reasons, Eve, but because it was a basic, step-by-step job.
Jam the security—and that wouldn’t be especially tricky—get inside—again, simple enough.
Open the vault, which would take a bit of time but only rudimentary skill and some practice.
Get the take, get out. But you’d prepare for contingencies.
I don’t think you’ll find your killer on the list Brian gave me. ”
“Because?”
“They’re experienced, and good at what they do.
It’s the panic that doesn’t fit for me, not with this bunch.
So I’m thinking, if I want to hire someone for a rich take but simple execution, why not someone I can get on the cheap?
Someone good enough who’d do the job for a fraction of what someone—we’ll say like me—would demand. ”
She sat back. “That’s a good angle. Damn it.”
“Might be they didn’t mean to kill Barrister. Just grabbed something to put him down so they could get out. That doesn’t matter,” he said before she could. “But it’s plausible.”
“Okay, yeah. It’s plausible. I’ll still look at the list.”
“Of course.”
Thinking it through, she ate another fry. “Someone less experienced might brag about pulling it off, dead man or not.”
“The quickest way to end up in the nick, but yes. Ears are out for such a thing.”
“Appreciated.”
He sat back with his beer. “As to the financials. The widow has her own business account where she deposits her fees, pays any business expenses for more than twenty years. She does quite well. The majority of their properties, stocks, accounts are held jointly. When he inherited the house, he had it put in both their names. He does—did—have an account in his name only, but that appears to be for his personal expenses, wardrobe, tailoring, grooming.”
He sipped his beer. “It’s all tediously aboveboard. We actually have the same accounting firm and estate attorney. But it’s not surprising, as they deal with wealth.”
“She inherits the lot?”
“He—and she—have provided very well for their daughters. He’s split his interest in Zip between his wife, his girls.
His affairs, and his widow’s, are in meticulous order, as best I can tell.
There’s nothing in either to indicate a gambling problem, an addiction to be fed, a side piece, or blackmail payments. ”
“What I figured.”
“I ran through the daughters’—and that didn’t take long. I can give you the particulars, but it’s quicker to say they’re wealthy, responsible young women who haven’t, so far, abused their privilege.”
“Also figured.”
“Joy Barrister, I haven’t quite completed. But at this point, I can say she’s a careful investor. The divorce didn’t cost her, unless you count the fact her ex is also quite well-off, and their combined wealth put them both on another level.”
“I can count that.”
“With her father’s death and his bequests, she now owns the condo outright, and like her brother with Barrister House, is having considerable work done to, I imagine, make it more to her taste.
She spends lavishly, but well within her means, which are also lavish.
She does have one small, in comparison, questionable account. ”
“Really?”
“It’s not unusual for someone with great wealth to work the system to try to protect some of that wealth.
She has some rental properties scattered here and there and holds them under an LLC.
And more or less adjacent to that, this other account.
Technically questionable. She might get a rap on the knuckles for it, but no more than that. She opened it after the divorce.”
“Okay, you could look a little more there, since that’s the first out-of-bounds on any of them.”
“I’ll do that, and the staff. I could have a conversation with our estate attorney.”
“Why is it our estate attorney?”
Eyes sober, he reached over and took her hand. “I know it’s a burden to you, and I’m forever grateful you bear it, and so gracefully. But our marriage, our partnership, our enduring love and excellent sex has made you a wealthy woman.”
She looked into those wildly blue eyes, where humor danced under the sobriety. And said, “Bite me.”
“There’s that excellent sex again. You met with the estate attorney in regards to your will.”
“I’m dumping it all back on you.”
“And,” he continued, “asked me to deal with other eventualities, then—though I’m painfully aware you didn’t read the prenup document thoroughly or comprehensively—you signed it.”
“Yeah, yeah, but—”
“But. Garrett remains both my estate attorney and yours. So if you want, I can have a conversation with him. Or open the door so you can do so.”
“I’d rather the first, but it has to be the second.”
“All right then.”