Chapter Sixteen #2
“They made Dr. Dolbey, Dr. Gretta Dolbey, acting director to replace Dr. Chu, but she came to speak to Director O’Brian before he left, and Ms. Reynolds told Dr. Dolbey he was in a meeting. He wasn’t.”
The words, sotto voice, tumbled out now.
“So I heard Dr. Dolbey tell her she had to speak with him as soon as possible. Her swipe wouldn’t work on a certain area of the lab, and Security told her she hadn’t been authorized access.
Director O’Brian had to do that. And she needed the files and reports on that area in order to familiarize herself with whatever project was ongoing. ”
“Did she get access?”
“No, because she came up after the memorial, and was upset, even angry when she learned Director O’Brian was gone, that he’d left before authorizing her. I think she said she’d have to go over his head.”
Mae took two audibly shaky breaths. “God, I’ll be fired if they find out I’m talking to you. I don’t want to work here anymore, but I need this job. They could make it so I can’t get another in New York. Maybe anywhere.”
“You’re doing the right thing, Mae, so you hang in.”
“First Director Chu, then Dr. Dent. Now Director O’Brian just left. I’ve never seen Mr. Wyst really angry. It was—it was actually scary.
“I have to go. She watches me like a . . . I was going to say hawk, but it’s like a vulture.”
“Mae, contact me if you need me, or if you find out anything else. If you don’t want to work there anymore, I can help you bag another job. A good one.”
Mae smiled, weakly. “I don’t want to be a policewoman, but thank you.”
“Not that. If you like what you’re doing now, just not there, I can help you get a job doing what you’re doing, and not there. If you want to discuss that, you have my contact.”
Mae closed her eyes. “I really want to discuss that. But I have to get back to my desk. Good-bye, Lieutenant.”
Eve sat back, digested it. Then sat up, wrote it out.
It wouldn’t be the more she needed, but she copied it to Reo before she rose and went out to the bullpen.
“I’ve found two more—both images,” Peabody told her. “One just two years ago where Delgato got an award. In the photo Cruz is listed as Mr. Carlos Cruz, Dr. Delgato’s escort for the evening. And the other—”
“Tell me on the move. With me.”
“Did we get something? Did we?”
“O’Brian took off, or told his coordinator he was taking three weeks leave, to cancel everything.”
“Running scared.”
“Bet your ass. Mae, the coordinator, had me wait a few minutes, contact her again so she could talk. She went into a bathroom stall because she’s been told not to talk to me.”
“She did though.”
“Yeah, she did. Shit’s going down, Peabody, and it’s going down fast. Wyst didn’t know O’Brian was taking off, and he’s pissed. The acting director, Chu’s replacement.”
“Ah, Dolbey.”
“Right, she came up because her swipe’s not cleared for the restricted area. She doesn’t have access to it or to any of the reports or files pertaining to it.”
“They’re not letting her in. She’s not part of whatever, and they’ll need to pull in someone who is. Or who they know will go along.”
“Which tells us they don’t think she will. Mae also said the admin lied to Wyst and said she didn’t know O’Brian’s location. Mae’s convinced Reynolds knows everything, so she’s covering for O’Brian.”
“O’Brian won’t be back, will he?”
“I think he’s cashing in, decided to retire to an undisclosed location. Maybe he’s still packing up—doubtful. But we might be able to find out where he’s gone. Get your shovel out on that and dig there.”
“He’s married, right? Grown kids, grandkids.”
“Correct.”
“If I don’t find his transpo, we can try the adult kids.”
“His place first.” Eve hopped in the car, plugged in the address.
Peabody yanked out her PPC. “I’ll start with private shuttles. O’Brian must think he’s next, or certainly in the running. He wasn’t on the list for the restricted area.”
“Doesn’t mean he wasn’t read in, or taken in when and if necessary. He comes off more administration than lab guy.”
“Yeah, he does. I’m not finding him on anything private out of New York yesterday or today. A quick exit like this, maybe he took what he could get.”
“Keep digging.”
She pushed through to Tribeca, cursed the evil parking gods. She found a loading zone, snagged it.
“Down the block, on the corner.”
“Oh, shiny, and with a really nice side courtyard, all stone and brick and elegant. I’m going to bet your ass it’s Roarke’s. It’s got that smooth blend of old-world and contemporary he’s maximum good at.”
Entrance to the courtyard required a security swipe. A few people sat out at tables, sipping wine, cocktails. A tiny snow-white dog drank delicately from a tiny silver bowl.
Eve rounded the corner to the main entrance and the liveried doorman.
Eve held up her badge.
“Nice meeting you, Lieutenant. What can I do for you?”
“John O’Brian.”
“Sure, Penthouse B. But he’s not here. On a business trip.”
“You saw him leave?”
“Sure did. In a hurry, too. Had luggage with him. Mick brought it down, as I remember.”
“Did you hail him a cab to the shuttle station?”
“No. Didn’t need to, as he had a car service waiting. Not his usual one.”
“Is that so? He left alone?”
“Sure did. Business.”
“Did you notice which car service?”
“That’s my job,” he said cheerfully. “E-Z—the letters—Ride.”
“And where was it taking him?”
“That I can’t tell you, as he didn’t say. I didn’t say much myself, as Mr. O’Brian looked upset and rushed. Mick said how they’d had a big problem at work—that’s Banner-Wyst—and Mr. O’Brian had to take off, take right off, to start fixing it. Said he could be gone a couple, three weeks.”
“How about his wife? Is she up there?”
“I held the door for her not a half hour ago when she came back home.”
“Thanks.”
“Anytime at all!”
“You’re going to keep your ass because I’m winning that bet.”
“Just check with the car service, Peabody.”
Eve crossed the mosaic tiles of the lobby with its floral displays, cushy seating, the small, discreet, and no doubt pricey shops, to the desk and the woman who sat in a dove-gray suit and sharp red heels.
“Good afternoon, welcome to Tribeca Towers. How may I assist you?”
Eve offered her badge. “Lieutenant Dallas, Detective Peabody, NYPSD. We need to speak with Ms. Ellyn Dossier, Penthouse B.”
“Of course, Lieutenant. I’ll let Ms. Dossier know you’re here.”
“I’d rather you didn’t.”
The woman blinked once. “I see. Penthouse B has a private elevator to its entrance. That requires my swipe. Before I do that, I apologize, but I need to ask to scan your badge and verify.”
“No problem.”
The woman took out a scanner, used it.
“Would you mind, Detective?”
“Not a bit.”
She scanned Peabody’s badge, then rose. “This way please.”
She escorted them to an elevator with dull gold doors. When they opened, she used her swipe, pressed a button, then held the doors while they walked in.
“Please let me know if you need any further assistance. I’m on the desk for another hour. If your business takes longer, I’ll inform the desk of your visit before I leave.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re very welcome,” she said as the doors closed.
“Okay, you win the bet.”
“Yay, me! And the car service took O’Brian—though he booked the car as Ian Granger—to a shuttle station in New Jersey.”
Eve rolled her eyes. “And he really thinks that’s covering his tracks.”
“Yep. No Ian Granger booked on a private, but the car took him to the private shuttle area.”
“Forget the name, check the timing.”
They rode up inside smoked-mirrored walls in air that smelled lightly of . . . fresh orange peels, Eve realized.
It was kind of nice.
The elevator opened in a private foyer, white on white on white, with a large painting on each wall over a white bench. The paintings brought in streaks and smears of strong colors.
Eve pressed the buzzer beside the double white doors.
The voice, not a comp, maybe a droid, came through the speakers.
“This is the O’Brian-Dossier residence. We have not cleared up any visitors. Please exit through the doors behind you, or we will contact the police.”
Eve held up her badge. “Don’t bother. We are the police.”
“Please keep your badges visible for scanning. You are verified, Lieutenant Dallas, Detective Peabody. I will inform Ms. Dossier of your arrival.”
It took a few minutes, but the doors opened.
Droid, Eve thought. Distinguished male model, dark hair silvered at the temples. Average height and build in a black suit, white shirt, black tie.
“Ms. Dossier will see you in the living area. Please come in. You’re welcome to sit, as she will be another moment or two. I’m authorized to offer you refreshments. Ms. Dossier requested tea for herself.”
“We’re good, thanks.”
Music played quietly, softly. Since it was some sort of opera, Eve gave thanks for the quietly.
Like the foyer, the spacious living area was white on white on white, the color from art, from pillows, from the bits and bobs on tables, shelves.
A white piano stood at the edge of the wide glass doors so its player would face the room. Outside the doors on the terrace, not white furniture, but all those wild colors in patterns.
Stairs wound up to a second floor. Ellyn Dossier used them to descend.
Her dark blond hair cut in a sharp, angled bob suited the sharp, angled face and contrasted with the petite and curvy build.
Her eyes, a quiet blue that matched her dress, studied Eve and Peabody as she glided down on short, heeled boots.
Sunlight through the doors and windows caught at the diamonds on her left hand, the rubies at her ears and throat.
“Good afternoon. Please, please sit.”
She had a voice like wispy fog over a quiet lake.
“I assume this is about Larry, about Ezra. It’s so shocking.”
She sat, crossed her legs.
“Did you know them well, Ms. Dossier?”
“I’m afraid I didn’t. The occasional dinner or work-oriented event I was able to attend. My work through Helping Hand keeps me quite busy. I will, of course, attend their memorials.”
“Dr. Chu’s memorial was earlier today.”