“I can’t do that. I can’t. We have to protect our clients’ privacy. We’d be sued up the butt if I turned confidential files over to the police.”
“We’ll get a warrant.”
“Please do. I mean that, sincerely. Please get a warrant and I’ll personally see that you have any and all data the law demands. I need to contact Mr. Kraus,” she continued as she got back to her feet. “I need to tell him what’s going on. What’s happened. And Bick. You’ll need to talk to Bick.”
“Bick Byson was also murdered early this morning.”
She lost all of her color, every drop of it. “I—I can’t think. I don’t know what to say. This is horrible.”
“I’m sorry. I understand it’s a shock. We need to speak with Mr. Byson’s supervisor.”
“Um, that’s—oh, God, I can’t t
hink. Myra. Myra Lovitz. I can contact her for you.”
“I’d prefer you didn’t talk to her until we have. Who else would have worked on accounts with Ms. Copperfield?”
“I’ll get you a list of names. Sorry.” She clipped to her desk, yanked open a drawer, pulled out a tissue. “Sorry, it’s starting to sink in. I can call upstairs, have Myra’s admin tell her you’re coming. Would that help?”
“That’d be good. Thanks for your cooperation. We’ll be back, with a warrant, for the files.”
Upstairs, they were met by the admin and escorted straight back into an office similar to Cara’s.
Myra Lovitz sat behind a desk covered with files, discs, notes. She was into her early sixties, Eve judged, and had let her hair go stone gray in a way that suited her tough, sharp-angled face. She wore a suit—blue pinstriped and all business. She smiled sourly as Eve and Peabody came in.
“Okay, what is this, a raid?”
“We’re here concerning Bick Byson.”
Even the sour smile faded. “Something happen to the boy? We’ve been trying to reach him all morning.”
“He’s dead. He was murdered last night.”
Her lips folded in, her hands fisted on the desk. “Goddamn city. Goddamn it. Mugged?”
“No.”
Eve let Peabody take point on this one, ask the questions, get the statements. It was nearly a replay of the first interview, but with Myra’s more acerbic style.
“He’s a damn good kid. Smart, reliable. Knows how to schmooze the clients when they need it, how to be all biz when they want that. Good reader of people, you know? He and that sweet kid from accounts downstairs? Both of them? God, what a world.”
“What were they working on?” Peabody asked her.
“They? Bick and Natalie didn’t work on the same accounts. He did individuals, domestic, she did corporate, primarily foreign.”
“How did he seem to you the last couple of weeks?”
“A little jumpy, now that you mention it. Wedding coming up, and they just bought a place in Tribeca. Having it rehabbed, doing decorating, furniture shopping. Man’s bound to be jumpy.”
“He didn’t mention any concerns to you?”
“No.” Her eyes sharpened. “This wasn’t just some random killing, was it? Are you telling me someone deliberately murdered those two kids?”
“No, ma’am,” Eve interrupted. “We’re not telling you anything just now.”
After starting the ball rolling on the warrant, Eve wanted only one thing. To get back to Central, and from there do both her written and oral reports, write up her timeline, start her murder board.
But Peabody would not be denied.