Chapter Twenty #3
“I’ll add that once the operation is successfully completed, we will take possession of the Royal Suite, and take responsibility for its security and its return.”
“All yours.”
“Give me a moment to speak to my superior and have that process begun.”
When he stepped out, she scanned the room. “Any comments, questions, remarks before I lay this out?”
“I got one for Reo. Are you going to step on these assholes, and hard, for taking the stab at the lieutenant?”
“Yes, Detective Sergeant, I am.” With a wide, humorless smile, Reo put down one fashionable heel and ground it into the floor.
“Okay then.” Now he glanced over at Roarke. “Can’t much blame you for the blonde. She’s a looker.”
“She is, but can’t begin to measure up to the lanky brunette who holds my heart.”
“Man.” Willowby fanned herself, then patted her heart. “Dreamcake express.”
“Enough of that.” Eve shoved her hands into her pockets. “Enough.”
Abernathy came back—and none too soon—gave Eve the nod.
“Let’s get started.”
It took more than an hour to lay it out, assign teams, perfect the timing.
Then she took questions, considered some suggestions, some options, worked some of them in.
“That’s it. Twenty-one hundred, in the garage for transportation. Anyone without Thin Shield, you’re vested. Everyone wears a helmet. Dismissed. Peabody, hold a minute.”
McNab pranced over on his rainbow airboots. “I know this is to-the-top important, and dangerous, but man, it’s going to be fun.”
“How do you figure the fun?”
“Dallas, come on. We’re busting in on a bunch of mega rich in their fanciest duds. The type who’ve gotta think that money can buy them in or out of anything. And we’re taking them down, the NYPSD’s taking them down on Long freaking Island.”
“A man died in the mix of this.”
His green eyes hardened. “Yeah, and none of them give a rat’s ass. We do. And taking down those rich assholes? Yeah, I’m getting some jollies out of it.”
“Get them after. Peabody, find out—discreetly—Joy Barrister’s location. I want to move on her place, but I’d rather she wasn’t there when we do.”
Despite the tie, she turned to Jenkinson. “You and Reineke, on the search with us.”
“I’ll tag along,” Roarke said as he wandered over. “To deal with any e’s as needed.”
“Take the boy here to help with that,” Feeney decided. “The rest of us will monitor for any change in the auction plans. And yeah.” He nodded at Roarke. “Shuttle arrivals.”
“Expect high-level legal team for Barrister.” Reo stepped up. “Likely high-level sleazy for the other two. I’m on tap whenever you want to put them in Interview.”
“I’ll let you know.”
“She’s at work,” Peabody told Eve, “but is about to leave for Barrister House. She plans to stay there for several more days. I said I contacted her, as we didn’t want to disturb the vic’s wife, but wanted any details on the memorial.
It’s day after tomorrow, and they’re still working on those details. ”
“Good. Perfect. She’s got a crew working on the place, but we can deal with that, if necessary. Let’s get this done. I want to be back here to go over the whole thing again with Abernathy’s team.”
When they arrived at the lovely five-story building that had escaped the ravages of the Urban Wars, lobby security walked over.
Jenkinson grinned. “Hailey, you old bastard. Is this where you ended up?”
“Sure is. Sweet gig. I heard you made DS. They’ll promote anybody these days.”
“This is my lieutenant. Dallas, this is Detective Hailey, retired from the six-three.”
“Loo. How’s it going?”
“Not bad. Detective, we have a search warrant for Joy Barrister’s apartment.”
“Is that so?” His eyes changed, and she saw the cop in them. “I heard her brother got murdered. He was a nice guy. I gotta figure this pertains to that.”
“You don’t appear surprised it would.”
“She’s got a hard shell.”
“Is anybody up there?”
“Like a beehive most days. Cabinet guys were here since about eight, doing the last of the kitchen install. They just left a couple minutes ago. Closet designer types later today. Got kitchen counters coming in, but that’s tomorrow.
Place is clear right now, as the other guys went for their lunch break.
You can count on about an hour and a half. They take their time.”
“Makes it easy. Maybe you could give us a heads-up if she decides to drop by and review the work.”
“Count on it. I’m going to swipe the elevator for you, take you straight up. She’s got the whole frigging fifth floor.”
“Appreciate it.”
They rode up in an elevator Eve assumed had been refitted and updated, though it maintained the look of old and classy.
They came out on five into what Eve supposed could be called the foyer area, though it stretched across the building from north to south with windows letting the light in on either side.
A trio of tall plants scooped up the light on the south side. A few chairs, a couple of long tables allowed someone to sit, though she couldn’t think why they would.
A huge vase with an Asian pattern stood on one of the tables and held a mass of white flowers and spilling greenery.
“Record on. Lieutenant Dallas. Everybody, state your name for the record.” When they had, she took out her master. “Entering the apartment of Joy Barrister on a search-and-seizure warrant. All records on,” she ordered, and mastered in.
Jenkinson let out a low whistle.
Given the age of the building, she’d obviously had walls taken down to achieve the wide-open living area. More likely, Eve thought, the space had, at one time, been more than one unit.
While currently empty, the floors gleamed in a gray that nearly hit black, and the scent of fresh paint came off the white, white walls.
A chandelier made a waterfall of sparkling crystals.
“If the rest is like this,” McNab commented, “this is going to be quick.”
“Look for e’s. Jenkinson, you and Reineke start that way. Peabody and I’ll start this way.”
She found a powder room, obviously remodeled, the main suite, empty. It had a large closet/dressing room still being finished, and a large bathroom.
“Still tiling in here,” Peabody observed. “It’s a lot of tile. I guess it’s elegant, but strikes me as cold.”
“It takes cold to bash your own brother’s head in. Where’s her closet safe? She’d have one.”
“Maybe in storage like the rest of her stuff. It looks, to my eye, like they gutted this closet and started up a new design.”
“You’ve got the eye.”
Eve moved on, then angled her head at a locked door.
“Can’t master through that kind of interior lock,” Peabody pointed out.
“No, but I can pick it.” She’d brought her lockpicks, as she’d thought she might want them.
She was still working on the lock when Roarke started toward her. She hissed at him.
“I’ve got this.”
“I should hope so. We found the security hub. McNab’s having a look at it.”
“Any safe?”
“Not so far. The other side of the apartment is well under construction. They’re doing a good job of it. There’s a kitchen, a kind of morning room, formal dining, another powder room. A guest room with en suite. As there’s no home office on that side, I’m assuming you’re unlocking one.”
“Yeah, that’s my bet. And yes!”
She opened the door. Unlike the rest, Joy had kept it furnished, and had obviously decided not to include it in the remodel.
“Plenty of space. You can hit that desk unit, Roarke, and, Peabody, take the drawers in the desk. Little sitting area, but it looks like business in here. No fuss, no frills.”
She opened a door. Storage and a mini-AC and friggie. Across the room, she tried a second door. Locked.
She turned to see Roarke smile at her, said, “No.” And got out her picks again. It took her longer, she accepted that, but she damn well wanted to do it herself.
“Got a locked drawer here, too,” Peabody told her.
“A lot of locks for a home office. Roarke, take care of that one.”
She tried to ignore the fact he took care of that one while she still struggled.
“Clone ’link, locked,” Peabody told her. “A small disc file, some cash, and how about a police-issue stunner?”
“How about that? Bag it all. We’ll take it in.”
And finally, she heard the lock give.
And there she found the safe. Floor to ceiling, as wide as the standard door.
“It’s another vault.”
“Not at all. A large safe,” Roarke said from behind her. “But given the spacing, only about eighteen inches deep. That’s a Crown safe, and that model? Hmm, twelve to fifteen years old.”
“After her brother moved to Brooklyn. It’s hers. Always been hers. Open it.”
“Happy to.”
McNab came in. “It’s solid security and overkill for a building with—Hey, that’s an old Crown.”
“Not very old, really.”
It took him less time to open the safe than it had for her to pick a lock.
Deflating.
When he had, when he pulled the heavy door open, she let out a breath.