Born in Death (In Death 23)

“Have you had any contact with Ms. Copperfield or Mr. Byson?”

“No.”

“That’s odd. Don’t you find that odd, Detective, that Mr. Cavendish would have no contact whatsoever with the person who handles his firm’s accounts?”

“I have to say I do. Me, I’m on a first-name basis with the guy in Payroll back at Central.”

“I may have, at some point, met—”

“I corresponded and met with Ms. Copperfield,” Bruberry interrupted. “When necessary. Such matters are, primarily, dealt with through our home office in London.”

“And just what do you do here?” Eve asked, speaking directly to Cavendish.

“I represent our firm’s New York interests.”

“Which means?”

“Exactly that.”

“That clarifies it. And you also represent the legal interests of Lordes C. McDermott, who was a client of Bick Byson.”

“Ms. McDermott is a family relation, and naturally is represented by our firm. As to her financial manager, I couldn’t say.”

“Really? Gee, seems like one hand doesn’t keep a grip on the other around here. And, second gee, I don’t think I said Byson was her financial manager, just that she was a client.”

Cavendish fiddled with the knot of his tie. Nervous tell, Eve thought.

“I assumed.”

“While we’re at it, your whereabouts on the night of the murders, Ms. Bruberry?”

“At home. I was in bed before midnight.”

“Alone?”

“I live alone, yes. I’m afraid that’s all the time Mr. Cavendish can spare.”

Eve got lazily to her feet. “Thanks for your cooperation. Oh,” she continued. “Your firm also represents…” She took out her memo book as if to check on a name. “The Bullock Foundation.”

And there, she noted, just that little ripple over the face. The tightening of the jaw, the flicker in the eyes. Another brush of the fingers over the knot of his tie. “That’s correct.”

“Ms. Madeline Bullock and Mr. Winfield Chase were recently in the city. I suppose you met with them while they were here.”

“I…”

“Ms. Bullock and Mr. Chase had a luncheon meeting here with Mr. Cavendish. That would have been on Monday afternoon. At twelve-thirty,” Bruberry added.

“You had your meeting, and your lunch with them here. In the office.”

“That’s correct,” Bruberry snapped before Cavendish could respond. “Would you like me to find my notes on the menu?”

“I’ll let you know. This has been just swell. Thanks for the time.” Eve turned to go, hesitated at the door. “You know, it’s odd that while you’re so busy representing your firm’s New York interests, you didn’t take regular meetings with the senior accountant who looks after their finances.”

“I’ll see you out,” Bruberry said when Cavendish remained silent.

“That’s okay. We can manage it.”

Somebody’s got a secret,” Peabody said when they were back on the street.