Calculated in Death (In Death 36)

“We don’t know that. Don’t upset yourself. We weren’t the only account taken. And a woman’s dead. She’s dead.” He glanced at Eve. “She had two children. I heard that on the media report.”

“Yes. I need to ask you your whereabouts on the night she was killed.”

“Oh. My. Of course, of course. I was home. We spent the evening at home, my wife and I. Our daughter was out with friends. We worry. She’s sixteen. It’s very worrying. We stayed in all evening, and our daughter came home at ten—on time.” He smiled when he said it.

“Did you see or speak with anyone that evening, other than your wife and daughter?”

“Ah . . . Actually, I spoke to my mother. Our mother,” he corrected, glancing at Alexander. “We’re half-brothers.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, I meant to tell you, Sterling, but everything’s been so upside down, I forgot. I spoke with my mother, and, oh yes, my on-the-right neighbor. When I walked the dog.” Every sentence contained a hint of apology. “I forgot to say I went out and walked the dog. We have a dog. And my neighbor and I usually walk our dogs together when we can. We did. About nine o’clock.”

“All right. Thank you. This audit, it’s required by your bylaws?”

“It is,” Alexander confirmed. “My father wrote it in when he formed the company. He believes in full accounting.”

“It’s a way to keep your house clean.” Pope cleared his throat. “My mother always says that. She initially joined the firm as an associate, then became full partner. Though she and Mr. Alexander Senior parted ways on a personal level, they remained business partners until their mutual retirement.”

“There’s no need to wave around family business,” Alexander snapped out.

“It’s interesting,” Eve countered. “Has there ever been any problems with previous audits?”

“Absolutely not.” Pope spoke first, then winced as he glanced at his half brother. “I don’t mean to speak out of turn, but while there have been a few minor issues, immediately resolved, we’re very proud to run that clean house.”

“Any chance I could get copies of those previous audits?”

“Absolutely not.” This time Alexander spoke first, and with an entirely different tone. “Now that’s all the time we can spend on this. Look to competitors. It’s obvious this woman got caught up in something that cost her her life. We’re the victims here.”

“Yeah. You’re the victims. Thanks for your time.”

Eve bared her teeth when she and Peabody rode down to the lobby. “Another asshole.”

“The world’s full of them. You’d never know by looking or listening to the two of them that they’re related.”

“Alexander doesn’t consider them related. He considers Pope a pain in the ass when he’s not considering him a go-fer. And Pope knows it. Alexander’s playing the victim card, and hard—and that buzzes for me. And Pope’s just a little too self-effacing.”

She replayed the interview in her head as they crossed the lobby. “Alexander plays the big deal, but his ’link didn’t ring while we were in there, and you can bet your ass he didn’t order a hold on communications for us. Pope’s pocket ’link hummed two different times.”

“I didn’t notice. I did notice how clear Alexander’s desk was. No work on it.”

“I bet Pope does most of the down-and-dirty work, the inside work, while the other plays big-shot. Doing the down-and-dirty gives you a lot of access.”

“He doesn’t seem the type to steal, cheat, and kill.”

“A lot of people who steal, cheat, and kill don’t, Peabody. That’s why they steal, cheat, and kill until we catch them. Let’s hit the next.”

• • •

The offices of Your Space spread over a two-level downtown lot. Eve figured a family of four could live there comfortably, particularly as the design reflected a home rather than a work space.

Seating ranged around a sparkling fireplace topped with a mantel holding candlesticks and flowers. A second seating area aimed toward the wide window. In this second space a woman demonstrated something on a tablet to a young couple who appeared to be engrossed.

Rather than security, assistants, or hard-eyed admins, one of the four founders of the firm greeted Eve and Peabody personally.

“Latisha Vance.” The tall, ebony-skinned knockout offered a brisk handshake. “Angie’s with some new clients, but I have some time. We can talk upstairs if you like. Can I get you anything? We have some fresh cookies. They’re deadly.”

“No, thanks,” Eve said over Peabody’s quiet moan. “Are your other partners available?”