“Got a better idea?”
It was hard not to feel a little ridiculous, striding in her ruined dress and mile-high shoes toward the night droid on door duty in front of Maplewood’s building.
At least she had her badge. It was one of those things she never left home without. “Lieutenant Dallas, Detective Peabody, NYPSD. Regarding Elisa Maplewood. She lives here?”
“I’ll need to scan your IDs to verify.”
He looked pretty spiffy for so early in the morning, but that was a droid for you. He wore a natty red uniform with silver trim, and was designed to replicate a man in his mid-fifties, just a bit of silver at the temples to match the braid.
“These are in order. Ms. Maplewood is a live-in domestic, employed by Mr. and Mrs. Luther Vanderlea. What’s this about?”
“Did you see Ms. Maplewood tonight?”
“I’m midnight to six. Haven’t seen her.”
“We’ll need to see the Vanderleas.”
“Mr. Vanderlea is out of town. You’ll need to clear a visit with the desk. Comp’s on this time of night.”
He unlocked the doors, walked in with them. “Secondary scan for ID,” he informed them.
It irritated, but Eve passed her badge through the electronics on the fancy desk in the black-and-white lobby.
YOUR IDENTIFICATION IS VERIFIED, DALLAS, LIEUTENANT EVE. WHAT IS THE NATURE OF YOUR BUSINESS?
“I need to speak with Mrs. Luther Vanderlea, regarding her employee, Elisa Maplewood.”
ONE MOMENT WHILE MRS. VANDERLEA IS CONTACTED.
The droid hovered while they waited. Quiet music played. It had switched on when they’d started across the lobby. Set to activate, Eve assumed, when a human entered.
Why people needed music to cross a room, she couldn’t say.
The lights were dim
, the flowers fresh. A few good pieces of furniture—in case you wanted to sit down and listen to the recorded music—were arranged tastefully. There were two elevators in the south wall, and four security cameras to sweep the lobby.
The Vanderleas had a lot of bucks under the belt.
“Where’s Mr. Vanderlea?” she asked the droid.
“Is this an official inquiry?”
“No, I’m just a nosy so-and-so.” She waved her badge under his nose. “Yes, this is an official inquiry.”
“Mr. Vanderlea is in Madrid on business.”
“When did he leave?”
“Two days ago. He’s due back tomorrow evening.”
“What—” She broke off as the comp signaled.
MRS. VANDERLEA WILL SEE YOU NOW. PLEASE TAKE ELEVATOR A TO THE FIFTY-FIRST FLOOR. YOU WILL FIND MRS. VANDERLEA IN PENTHOUSE B.
“Thanks.” Even as they crossed the checkerboard floor, the elevator doors opened. “Why do we thank machines?” Eve wondered out loud. “They couldn’t possibly give a shit.”
“One of those innate human traits. That’s why programmers have them thanking us, too, I guess. You ever been to Madrid?”