Strangers In Death

11

LUCE AND HIS WIFE REMAINED IN NEW YORK, in residence in one of the ritzy suite’s at Roarke’s Palace Hotel. Linny Luce-Eve wondered how she felt about ending up with that name-opened the door and introduced herself.

She was what Eve thought of as a solid woman, well-built and compact like an efficient car designed for low maintenance and long usage. Thick brown hair with white wings framed a face more handsome than pretty. She wore a long-skirted black suit with sensible low-heeled boots and exquisite pearls. Her handshake was firm and businesslike.

“Edmond is on the ’link with London. He shouldn’t be long. Please sit. I ordered up tea. It’s quite good here. But I expect you know that, it being your husband’s establishment.”

She sat on the fat cream and white cushions of the sofa, poured out. “Milk or lemon?”

Neither was going to make Eve like tea any more than she did. “Just black, thanks.”

“Detective?”

“Milk, one sugar, thanks.”

“This is a difficult day for us. I hope you’ll understand how I mean it when I say your call was a welcome distraction. Edmond and I…we can’t quite fathom what to do with ourselves. After the memorial…Maybe it will be easier after the memorial, after we go back home.”

She sighed, looking toward the wide windows that opened to the towers of New York. “Life goes on, doesn’t it? It has to.”

“You knew Mr. Anders a long time.”

“Yes. Edmond and Tommy were friends longer, of course. But I knew Tommy over forty years. We can’t think what to do with ourselves. I’m sorry, I said that, didn’t I?”

“Can I ask you, Mrs. Luce, since you knew him well before his marriage, if you could tell us if he had any serious relationships before his wife?”

“Serious? I wouldn’t say. He enjoyed the company of women, but he simply enjoyed the company of people. We used to tease him quite a bit about settling down. I admit I tried matchmaking a few times.”

“I wonder if you could give me some names and contact information, on women you remember Mr. Anders’s…enjoying.”

“Yes, I could do that.” Linny looked straight into Eve’s eyes. “You’re asking this because of the way he was killed. That was not Tommy. I will never believe otherwise.”

“When did you first meet Ava Anders?”

“Oh, she was still working for Anders-a public relations exec. I can’t recall her title, if I ever knew. I first met her at a charity event here in New York. Ava had done the PR. A fund-raiser for one of the sports camps Tommy built. Black-tie, with dinner and dancing, a silent auction, an orchestra. Very elaborate, as I recall. She was very bright and clever. I remember watching them dancing at some point during the evening, and telling Edmond Tommy better watch out with that one.”

“Watch out?”

“I suppose what I meant was, she very much had her eye on him, and seemed a woman who knew how to get what she wanted. Which proved to be true. It wasn’t long after that they began to see each other socially, and whenever the four of us got together, it was obvious he was besotted by her, and she so…tickled by him.”

“Did you like her?”

Linny’s eyes widened. “Yes, of course, I did. Do. The four of us had some very lovely times together.”

“Would you say he remained besotted and she tickled?”

“It’s very difficult even for good friends to judge the inside of another’s marriage. And marriages evolve and adjust. They remained devoted to each other, certainly.”

“Friends, women friends,” Peabody put in, “often discuss aspects of their marriage with each other. Dish a little on their husbands, vent their frustrations, have some laughs over the little quirks and habits.”

“They do,” Linny said with a smile. “Yes, they do. Ava and I aren’t intimate in that way. We get along quite well, but we don’t have as warm or close a relationship, you might say, as Tommy and I did. Frankly, Tommy was the glue there. I enjoy an afternoon at the football pitch, and Ava preferred the shops and galleries. I have grandchildren, and she doesn’t. I’m fifteen years her senior, after all.”

She glanced over as her husband strode in. “There you are, Edmond.”

“Sorry for the delay. Lieutenant, Detective.” He sat like a man weary to the bone. “There’s to be a memorial in London, in fact, in every city around the world with an Anders base. There were details I needed to address quickly.”

Linny put a hand on his knee, patted it briskly in a gesture that translated absolute unity to Eve. “You’ll have some tea now.”

“Mr. Luce, with Mr. Anders’s death, how much influence in the company will Mrs. Anders gain?”

“Considerable, if she wants it, I suppose, but Ava’s never been interested in the business per se. In the charities, the programs, the publicity, but not the mechanics of running things. That will be for Ben.” He let out a long sigh. “In fact, he called just as I was finishing with London. He plans to arrange a meeting of the board and executive officers early next week. He’s asked me to consider coming on as his second in command.”

“Oh, Edmond.”

“I know.” It was his turn to pat his wife’s knee. “I planned to ease back a bit. More than a bit,” he admitted. “With the goal of retiring within the next two years. I hadn’t told Tommy yet. In fact, I planned to broach the subject when we golfed, the day…the day he died. He’d want me to help Ben during the transition, Linny. I may still make that two-year goal.”

“Mr. Luce, did Ben indicate he’d discussed this with Mrs. Anders?”

“No, why would he?”

“She has a seventeen percent share of the company now.”

“Yes, yes, of course. I’m sorry, I’m not thinking very clearly today. In any case, as I said, Ava’s never been interested in the company.”

“But as the next majority share holder, as the widow of the company’s president, she would be within her rights to expect a more hands-on position, a seat on the board maybe-and that goes along with that.”

“Technically, yes, I suppose so. But realistically, I can’t imagine it.”

“You knew Reginald Anders?”

“Oh yes.” Edmond’s face lightened with a smile. “In fact, it was Reggie who first hired me, more than half a century ago.”

“At his death, Thomas Anders inherited the majority share of the company, correct?”

“Yes. As Ben will now. Tommy considered Ben his son, and followed his own father’s lead on that.”

“Just so I have all the details straight. I understand Ava Anders has a small percentage of the company-well, a larger one now. But the initial share, did she come into that at her father-in-law’s death?”

“I believe that’s correct. Reggie was very fond of Ava.”

“All right, we appreciate you seeing us at a difficult time.” Her ’link signaled, and checking the display, she ordered it to answer, identify, and hold. “I need to take this. Is it possible I could use another room?”

“Of course.” Linny got quickly to her feet. “Let me show you to the office. Would you like to take your tea?”

“No, that’s fine.” She followed her hostess into a top-flight office done with plush leather and glossy wood.

“I’ll write down those names you asked for while you’re taking your call. Be comfortable,” Linny told her, and backing out, closed the double doors behind her.

Eve engaged her ’link. “This is Lieutenant Dallas, Mr. Bronson, thank you for holding.”

“Well, well. If I’d known you were this attractive, I’d have gotten back to you sooner. What can I do for you, Lieutenant Brown Eyes?”

“First, you can cut the crap.”

“Mmm. I love ’ em sassy.” He grinned at her, the same shit-eating grin from his official ID photo. Eve figured he’d practiced and perfected that one in the mirror. “So tell me what a sassy, brown-eyed police lieutenant from New York wants with Dirk.”

Dirk, she thought, was a complete asshole who had smooth, tanned cheeks that told her he’d had considerable and skilled work. Golden brows arched over eyes of Mediterranean blue like the sea she caught glimpses of behind him. His golden hair waved in the undoubtedly balmy breeze.

“You were married to an Ava Montgomery.”

“Wasn’t I just? A brief yet memorable episode in my past. Don’t tell me Ava’s in trouble.” He laughed as though little could amuse him more. “What did she do? Hire the wrong caterer?”

“Her current husband was murdered a few days ago.”

“Really?” His eyebrows quirked, and for a moment his face seemed to hold an expression other than smug conceit. “That’s…inconvenient. He’s a, what is it, a sporting goods king or something? I believe I own one of his tennis rackets.” Then he laughed, all brassy amusement. “Do you think I killed him? After all these years, to win back the fair Ava? This is exciting.”

“Why don’t you tell me where you were on March eighteenth, and we’ll get that little joke out of the way.”

“Cruising the Aegean, as I am now-with a bevy of beauties, a number of friends, and a full crew. Would you like to come interrogate me?”

“I’ll keep that in reserve. When’s the last time you saw your ex-wife?”

“Which ex-wife?”

“Don’t waste my time, Dirk.”

“So serious. Let’s see, when did Dirk last lay eyes on the lovely Ava? Ten years ago? No, longer. How time does fly. Closer to fifteen, I think. I bumped elbows with her in New York, if memory serves, at some party or premiere. Whatever. I believe she’d been recently married to the sports king.”

“Why did you and Ava divorce?”

“Who remembers? I’m sure I strayed, as I do enjoy variety. Dirk is no damn good and has a selection of ex-wives and women who would be delighted to verify that.”

“She didn’t satisfy you sexually?”

Avid amusement shone in his eyes. “Well, aren’t we nosy?”

She saw him shift, heard the rattle of ice in a glass, then watched him sip something tall and rosy. “She was-and my memory is clear on this-delightful in bed, and other interesting places. We wouldn’t have gotten as far as marriage otherwise. But I have a weak will and a roving eye. In any case, I wasn’t ambitious enough for her as I was-and am-content to coast and cruise. She wanted something-someone-who would provide her with opportunities for money and fame, respect. Like, I imagine, the dead sports king. I enjoy my sloth. We weren’t suited.”

“So she left you.”

“With a tidy sum and not a backward glance. Her cold heart and steely resolve were part of her appeal to me. As I recall, she introduced me to the woman I strayed with, and gave me far too many opportunities to take advantage. But somehow, she didn’t see it as her fault when I took advantage. Imagine that!”

“Imagine that. Thanks for your time.”

“It’s been entertaining. If you ever want to coast or cruise, be sure to look me up.”

“Yeah, I’ll jump right on that.” She clicked off, stood for a moment absorbing. Then she went out to take leave of the Luces.

Sounds like a big, oily ball of smile,” Peabody commented after Eve filled her in.

“Yeah, he does. Polar opposite of Anders.”

“Devil’s advocate. A woman gets burned like that, it’s reasonable she’d look for a completely different type.”

“Yeah, absolutely logical, absolutely reasonable. Good plan.”

“You really think plan? Like, okay, sleazy ex-husband dispatched. Check. Now hook nice guy with deep pockets?”

“She introduced the ex to the woman he cheated with. Read between the lines, Peabody. If you know a kid’s addicted to ice cream, do you put a big chocolate sundae in front of him and walk away? If you want out of a marriage with a tidy sum, sympathy, and no fault on you, what better way than to set up your weak-willed, roving-eyed husband? It’s something she’d do. It’s exactly something she’d do.

“I want to talk to Greta again. You go back, pick up the files. If you need help transporting, order it up. When you get back to Central, do a search for repeating names. Any that show multiple times in any program. Run those first.”

She pulled over, spoke over the ensuing storm of horns. “Take the wheel. I’ll catch a cab, then tap Roarke for a ride to the memorial.”

She checked the address in her book, then decided to walk a few blocks to clear her head before engaging in the war for a cab. Since she was on foot, she pulled out her ’link to check on Feeney.

He answered, honking like a dying goose. “Man, you sound sick.”

“I am sick. Goddamn it. You think I’m lying here in bed drinking this disgusting boiled tree bark they gave me for my health?”

She waited a beat. “Well. Yeah.”

“I’m burning up. I’ve got hot shards of glass in my throat and ten pounds of snot in my head. And what do they do? What do they do?” His eyes bugged out like glass marbles. “They give me fucking liquid tree bark and the wife’s poured so much chicken soup down me, I’m starting to cluck. I don’t want to die here in this damn bed. If this is the end, I want to buy it at my desk, like a man. You gotta get me out of here, Dallas. You gotta bust me out. You can take Sheila.”

His face was wildly flushed, but Eve thought that was as much from sick panic as sickness. And she wasn’t altogether sure she could take Feeney’s wife. “Ah, what? I can’t hear you. It must be a bad ’link.”

“Don’t you pull that crap on me.”

“Okay, okay. How about this? I’ve got Peabody picking up files, hundreds of them from Anders Worldwide. It’s the wife, Feeney, I know it in my guts. But I’ve got nothing to take to the commander, much less the PA. The search and runs on these files are going to take hours. Maybe days. Peabody could fill you in, toss some to you. You could work from there.”

“Best you can do is throw me a bone?” He honked again. “I’ll take it.”

“It’s a big bone, Feeney, and I need somebody to dig out the meat.”

“All right. You tell the wife.”

“What? Wait!”

“You convince her you need me on this. Make it life and death.”

“No! Feeney, don’t-”

“Sheila!” He honked the name out, and in the lingering chill of March, Eve’s hands went damp with sweat.

What people did for friendship, Eve thought, as she paid off the cab. Now she was responsible, according to Mrs. Feeney, if the work set back his recovery. Should’ve left him hacking up a lung at his desk in the first place, she told herself as she buzzed Greta Horowitz’s apartment from street level.

She angled toward the view screen.

“Lieutenant Dallas?”

“Yes. Can I come up?”

“I’ll open the locks.”

The doors beeped clear, opened smoothly. Inside, the entryway was small, and absolutely pristine. Eve imagined Greta would tolerate no less. The elevator hummed cooperatively to the fourth floor where Greta stood in the doorway of her unit.

“Has something happened?”

“Just some follow-up questions.”

“Oh. I was hoping you’d found who killed Mr. Anders. Please come in.”

The apartment was as unpretentious and efficient as its occupant. Sturdy furniture, no frills, a scent of…clean, was the only way Eve could describe it.

“Can I get you something hot to drink?”

“No, thanks. If we could sit down for a few minutes.”

“Please.” Greta sat, planted her shoes on the floor and her knees together. Smoothed down the skirt of her dignified black suit.

“You’re attending the memorial,” Eve began.

“Yes. It’s a very sad day. After, I’ll go to Mrs. Plowder’s, to help with the bereavement supper. Tomorrow…” She let out a little sigh. “Tomorrow, I am back to work. I will prepare the house so Mrs. Anders can return home.”

“Prepare it?”

“It must be freshened, of course, and some marketing must be done. The bed linens…you understand.”

“Yes.”

“I’ll supervise having Mr. Anders’s clothes packed.”

Don’t waste time, do you, Ava? “Packed?”

“Mrs. Anders feels it will distress her to see them. She prefers they be removed before her return, and donated, of course, to charity.”

“Of course. Mrs. Horowitz, how long did it take you to put away, give away, your husband’s clothes?”

“I still have his dress uniform.” She glanced over, and following, Eve saw the framed photo of the soldier Greta had loved. “People grieve in their own way.”

“Mrs. Horowitz, you strike me as the sort of woman who not only knows her job, but does it very well. Who not only meets her employers’ needs, but would anticipate them. To anticipate, you’d have to understand them.”

“I take pride in my work. I will be glad to get back to it. I dislike being idle.”

“Did you anticipate Mrs. Anders instructing you to pack away her husband’s clothes?”

“No. No,” she said again, more carefully. “But I was not surprised by the instructions. Mrs. Anders isn’t sentimental.”

“I doubt anyone would describe either of us that way, either. As sentimental. If I lost my husband…I’d need his things around me. I’d need to touch them, to smell them, to have them. I’d need those tangible pieces of him to get me through the pain, the shock, the sadness. You understand me?”

Gaze level on Eve’s, Greta nodded. “Yes, I do.”

“Would you have been surprised, if the situation were reversed, and Mr. Anders instructed you to pack up his wife’s clothing?”

“Very. I would have been very surprised.”

“Mrs. Horowitz, I haven’t turned on my recorder. I’m just asking you for your opinions. Your opinions are very helpful to me. Did she love him?”

“I managed their house, Lieutenant, not their marriage.”

“Greta,” Eve said in a tone that had Greta sighing again.

“It’s a difficult position. I believe honesty and cooperation with the police is an essential matter. And I believe loyalty to and discretion about an employer is not a choice, it’s duty. You would understand duty, Lieutenant.”

“Mr. Anders was your employer, too. Yes, I understand duty. We both have a duty to Thomas Anders.”

“Yes.” Greta looked at her husband’s photograph again. “Yes, we do. You asked me before about their relationship, and I told you the truth. Perhaps not all shades of the truth, perhaps not my feelings on that truth.”

“Will you tell me now?”

“Will you tell me first if you believe Mrs. Anders had anything to do with her husband’s murder?”

“I do believe it.”

Greta closed her eyes. “I had that terrible thought, not when I found him that morning, you understand. Not then. Not even that night, or the next morning. But…with so much time on my hands, so much time to think instead of work, I began to have those thoughts. Those terrible thoughts. To wonder.”

“Why?”

“There was affection, gestures-on both sides. An indulgence on both sides. You would see this and think they are nicely married. Comfortably married, you understand?”

“Yes, I do.”

“If she encouraged him to go out, play his golf, or attend his games, how could you fault her? If she encouraged him to take his trips, even to extend them, it would be natural enough. Women come to prize their solitude, especially when they’re long married. A little time without the man underfoot.”

“The reasonable, loving, indulgent wife.”

“Yes. Yes, exactly what it would seem. But, in fact, she was happier when he was gone than she was when he was home, and the longer he was gone, the happier she would be. This is my opinion,” Greta hastened to add. “My sense only.”

“That’s what I’m after.”

“I would sense an annoyance in her on the day he was scheduled to return. I could sense it even as she fussed about what meal to serve him to welcome him home. When he was gone, she would have dinner parties or cocktails with her friends. Friends of hers, you understand, that were not so much friends of his. And never with Mr. Benedict.”

Greta paused, pressed her fingers to her lips for a moment, then folded her hands neatly in her lap again. “I might not be saying this to you if she hadn’t instructed me to clear his clothes out of his dressing room, as she might instruct me to see that the floors were polished. Just another household task. I might not be telling you this if I didn’t know she saw the disapproval I didn’t hide quickly enough. And seeing it, Lieutenant, her manner changed. Her voice thickened with the tears that came into her eyes. But it was too late. I’d seen the other, heard the other, so it was too late. It was then she asked me to help at Mrs. Plowder’s, and told me what she would pay for my time, which is more than it should be. It was then she told me I would have a raise in salary when I returned to work tomorrow, and that she depended on me to help her through this difficult time.”

Greta looked down at the hands folded in her lap, nodded. “It was then, Lieutenant, I decided I would begin to look for other employment. Only this morning, I contacted an agency for this purpose.”

“She miscalculated with you, Greta. Will you be able to go to the memorial, to the Plowders, to go back to work, for the time being, without letting her see what you think or feel?”

The faintest smile touched Greta’s mouth. “I’m a domestic, Lieutenant. I’m very skilled at keeping my thoughts and feelings to myself.”

“I appreciate you sharing them with me.” Eve rose, held out a hand.

Getting to her feet, Greta took it, then held it. And held Eve’s eyes. “We may be unfair to Mrs. Anders. But if we aren’t, I trust you, Lieutenant, to make justice for Mrs. Anders.”

“I’m good at my job, too.”

“Yes, I believe you are.”

Rather than cab it all the way back to Roarke’s office, Eve flipped out her ’link as she hit the street again. The transmission bounced straight to his admin. “Hey, Caro, could-”

“Hello, Lieutenant.”

“Yeah.” Was she supposed to make small talk? Hadn’t she done that enough already? “Well…sorry to interrupt. Maybe you could tell Roarke I’ll meet him at the memorial.”

“If you’d hold a moment, I’ll put you right through to him.”

“But-” Too late, she thought with a roll of her eyes as the calming blue wait screen came on her screen.

And, as advertised, a moment later Roarke’s vivid blue eyes replaced the calm. “Just called to chat?”

“Yeah, it’s just talk, talk, talk with me. Listen, I just wanted to leave a message that I’ll meet you at the memorial. It’s still too early, so I’m going to duck into a cyber-café or something, get a little work done, then cab it over.”

“Where are you?”

“I’m over on Third, heading down to Fifty-fourth. So-”

“Wait there.”

“Listen-” Too late, she thought again, as this time her screen went blank. “Wait there,” she mumbled and jammed the ’link back in her pocket. Wait so he could drive across town to pick her up when she was perfectly capable of getting herself where she needed to go.

She could hardly call any of the women on the list Linny Luce had given her while she stood on the damn street. Those conversations would involve considerable delicacy, she imagined. And privacy.

At loose ends, she strode to the corner, swung wide of the throng waiting for the light, and studied them for a while.

Briefcases, shopping bags, baby carts-strollers, she corrected. Three people at the curb tried to out-jockey each other for position while they held up their arms to signal a cab. And the fleet of yellow streamed by, already hauling fares. Up the block a maxibus farted as it lumbered to a stop to disgorge passengers, take on more.

Some guy bopped by eating a slice, and as the scent reached out and beckoned like a lover, Eve remembered she’d not only given her ride to Peabody, but left the crullers in it.

Damn it.

She leaned back against the corner of the building while sky trams cruised overhead, traffic clogged the street, and the subway rumbled under it. Everybody going somewhere, or coming back from somewhere else.

While she waited, a couple of women already loaded like pack mules with shopping bags stopped by the display window beside her. And cooed, Eve thought, with the same over-the-top, slightly lame-brained adoration as Mavis cooing over Belle.

“Those shoes! They’re absolutely beyond.”

“Oh God! And the bag. Do you see the bag, Nellie? It looks positively gooshy!”

Eve tracked her gaze over. They looked like a couple of perfectly normal, perfectly sane women, she noted. And they were about to drool on the display glass over a pair of shoes and a purse. They continued to rhapsodize as they pulled the shop door open. Where, Eve assumed, they would shortly drop many hundreds of dollars for something to cart their junk around in, and many hundreds more for something that made their feet cry like babies.

She glanced away in time to spot some guy in a green army coat come flying across the street, dodging vehicles, clambering over others with a wild, happy grin plastered on his face. Happy, she assumed, because the beat cops in pursuit huffed half a block back, losing ground.

People scattered as people tended to do. Eve continued to lean back against the building, but she rolled to her toes and back as she gauged the timing. Green Coat bugled a hooting call of triumph when his combat-booted feet smacked the pavement. And flicking a glance-and his middle finger-behind him, kicked in for the dash down Fifty-fourth.

Eve simply shot out her foot.

He flew, the green coat rising like wings, and landed with what had to be a skin-scraping slide over the sidewalk. He groaned, grunted, managed a half roll. She helped him the rest of the way to his back with a shove of her boot, which she then planted on his sternum.

“Nice takeoff, bad landing.” She pulled out her badge as much for the people rubbernecking as the guy under her boot.

“Shit, shit! I had it cooked and in the pan.”

“Yeah? Well, now it’s burnt, and so are you.”

He held his hands out to show his cooperation, then used the back of one to swipe blood off his face. “What the hell’re you doing standing around the damn corner?”

“Just waiting for my ride.” She saw it cruise up, the mile-long black limo that actually made her stomach hurt with embarrassment. When Roarke lowered the back window, cocked his head, grinned, all she could do was scowl.

The beat cops huffed and puffed their way up to her. “We appreciate the assistance, ma’am. If you’d just-Lieutenant,” the cop panted when she badged him in turn. “Lieutenant. Sir. We were in pursuit of this individual as-”

“This individual made your pursuit look like a couple of old ladies hobbling back to their rocking chairs.”

“Fucking-A right,” said the individual.

“Shut up. You’re winded, sweating,” she continued. “And this guy was fresh as a daisy until his face met the sidewalk. This embarrasses me. Now if you’ve got your breath back, wrap him up.”

“Yes, sir. For the report, Lieutenant, the individual-”

“I don’t care. He’s all yours.” She strode toward the limo. “Lay off the crullers,” she called back, then climbed inside the shining black car.