“Your brownstone is a crime scene,” he said, nodding at the Shores’ doorman, who buzzed upstairs to announce their arrival. “It’ll be taped off and off-limits all day so the cops can do their jobs. If you insist on working, it’ll have to be out of the Shores’ apartment. Which shouldn’t be a problem; Jill’s here, too.”
“It’s seeing clients that’ll be the problem,” Morgan explained. “We sometimes meet with them at Winshore, but normally at a mutually convenient location—which won’t be happening, since Arthur will never let Jill and me out of the apartment today. Not that I blame him; he’s worried about our safety. Plus, there’ll be a media fest waiting to pounce on us.”
“I can’t control the media part, although I did convince Arthur not to give them any added ammunition. We spoke while you were sleeping. He agreed to head up to the Poconos tomorrow as planned. As for his family’s safety, it’ll be taken care of. He was on his way over to the Nineteenth Precinct to fill in whatever information they need to file their report.”
“I’m surprised he left Elyse and Jill alone.”
“He didn’t. Two of my men are with them. After I drop you off, I’ll swing by Arthur’s office. I’m arranging extra security to ease his mind.”
“Great. So it’ll be just Jill, Elyse, and me—and the ‘Secret Service.’ I guess asking clients to drop by here is out.”
“Good. Then maybe you’ll take it easy for a day.”
Morgan slanted him a look. “Would you?”
A chuckle. “You got me there.” Monty pressed the up button on the elevator.
“The truth is, if I don’t keep busy, I’ll lose my mind.”
“Understood. So do business via telephone and e-mail. It’s only for a few days. Your clients will cope just fine. And so will you.”
“Why do I feel placated?” Morgan asked as the elevator doors let them out on the twenty-fifth floor. “If you and Lane saw something, or found out something, I have the right to know.”
“Yeah, you do. But we didn’t. All we did was explore what-ifs. None of them went anywhere—yet. I won’t hide facts from you, Morgan. But I also won’t take you on wild-goose chases. It’s counterproductive and upsetting. You’re just going to have to continue to trust me.”
“I do and I will.”
Monty knew how much this was costing her. He also knew there was just one way to fix it.
The Shores’ apartment was just ahead.
“Before I go meet Arthur, I’d like to talk to Elyse again, review some of the details she gave me the other day. I need her calm and focused. Can you and Jill make yourselves scarce?”
“Of course.” Morgan nodded. “Just please go easy on her. She’s taking this hard.”
“By ‘this,’ do you mean the threat to your family?”
Morgan’s features tightened. “You mean as opposed to the threat to her privacy and her marriage? Yes, that’s what I mean. Believe me, she’s used to the ‘Arthur’s Angels’ stories splashed across the front page of the Enquirer. It’s been years. She’s pretty immune.”
“To the stories or the infidelity?”
“The stories. Infidelity’s not something you ever get used to.” Morgan’s brows knit quizzically. “Why this line of questioning? It’s not like you to go for someone’s Achilles’ heel, at least not a personal one.”
“I’ll go for anything that helps find our killer. Otherwise, you’re right; I don’t believe in invasion of privacy and I couldn’t give a damn who sleeps with who. I’m just getting a handle on Elyse’s state of mind. The fact that she’s in bad shape over the threat to her family doesn’t surprise me. She’s obviously the maternal type.”
“Yes. She is.”
They reached the Shores’ apartment and stopped. Monty waited while Morgan fished out her keys.
“It’s me,” she called out as she pushed open the door.
“Hi.” Jill was waiting in the foyer, dressed in comfortable sweats, her hair pulled back in a scrunchie. She looked pale and drawn as she walked over and gave Morgan a hug. “I’m glad you’re home. Did you get some sleep?”
“A little. What about you?”
“Same.” Jill turned to Monty. “Detective, can I get you something?”
“Not a thing,” he assured her. “I’ll be taking off soon.”