Nearly two hours later, she programmed another cup of coffee, drank it standing at her skinny window looking out at the hustle-bustle of New York.
She heard the clomp of Peabody’s boots, didn’t bother to turn. “It gets dark so damn early.”
“We just passed the solstice, so the days are starting to get longer.”
“It takes too damn long. Copley looks ordinary. Parents divorced, half sib on the father’s side. Average student. Little ding on possession right out of college, that would probably have gone away if he hadn’t mouthed off to the cops. Traffic tickets, and I dug into those a little. He went to court on every one of them, and in two cases ended up paying an extra fine for mouthing off to the judge. So, some temper there, some righteousness, some assholey behavior. Nothing violent.”
“I didn’t find anything there, either,” Peabody said. “First marriage lasted four years—no record of domestic disputes, but he sure filed a lot of papers on the ex. The split probably cost him three times what it would have if he hadn’t kept pushing the buttons. Still, she had more money than he did, and no prenup, so he fought his way to a bigger chunk than he might’ve gotten.”
Intrigued, Eve turned. “I hadn’t looked at marriage one yet, but Quigley’s rolling in it. His income’s a fraction of hers. There’s a prenup, bet your ass. Second marriage for both, yeah, she covered herself. It might be interesting to get a peek at the terms of that one.”
“She’s the admitted cheater. It seems to me he’d make out bigger, considering.”
“It doesn’t mean she’s the only one who cheated.”
Peabody pursed her lips. “Hmm. Hadn’t gone there. I did take a first pass at his financials. I didn’t see anything out of line, nothing to indicate he’s stepping out. Unless he’s doing it on the cheap. No hotel bills in the city, no second rent going out, no personal travel that doesn’t jibe with the wife’s. And no withdrawals that say blackmail.”
“He’d have an expense account. That’s worth a look. And maybe, ha
ving married a second time to a woman with money, he learned something about socking money away.”
She’d see if Roarke wanted to play with that.
“From what I can see, he’s good at his job,” Eve continued. “Maybe a righteous asshole when it comes to being caught doing something wrong, or with an estranged wife, but he’s worked his way up at ImageWorks to partner.”
“I couldn’t find anything that said other than he can be a jerk, but he’s pretty much a law-abiding professional with some skill in his chosen field.” Peabody lifted her shoulder. “I couldn’t find any real dings.”
“It doesn’t mean they’re not there. Pack it in for the night.”
“Are you?”
“Pretty much. I think I’ll swing by the Schuberts on the way home, poke at the husband a little. I might get another angle.”
She tilted her head when she heard the oncoming prancing she recognized as McNab.
He bopped into her doorway. “Hey, Dallas. Peabody, you off or on?”
“Just going off.”
“Me, too. We can go home together. I got some data from your vic’s home mini, LT. I’d’ve had it earlier, but I got pulled off on a hot one. Just got back to this a couple hours ago.”
He offered Eve a disc.
“Report?”
“What’s interesting is the accounting program I dug out. It doesn’t list names—just initials—but I did a quick cross with his client list, and there’s plenty that match. Some repeats, some one-offs. And he lists amounts. It would look up-and-up if I didn’t know what Peabody told me about how he took some clients for a ride between the sheets—at a cost. He’s listed them as private massage or trainer or consults. Initials, dates, fees, and what I’m thinking is a rating system.”
“Rating?” Eve repeated.
“Hey, some guys are shits. He qualifies. He’s got some rated with stars. One to three. I figure he rated the clients on, you know, performance.”
“Scumfuck,” Peabody muttered.
“Wouldn’t say otherwise.” Then he leaned in, whispered something in Peabody’s ear that made her flush and giggle.
“You just said some crap about there not being enough stars, or something equally full of it.”
McNab only grinned. “What can I say? I’m a romantic, not a scumfuck.”