Secrets in Death (In Death 45)

Eve had knocked on four doors by the time Peabody got back, and they hit two more together—with the same negative results—by the time the warrant came through.

Eve used her master, got through one lock, then one more. But the third held firm.

“She put in a cop-proof lock here. Bad girl.” Puffing out a breath, Eve dug in her kit. “Let’s see how much I’ve learned.”

Peabody frowned as Eve took out a set of lock picks. “We could call for EDD, or a battering ram.”

“I can do this.”

Eventually, Eve thought. Probably.

Ten minutes later, with Peabody shivering and stomping her feet in the biting wind, Eve felt something give.

“Nearly got it.”

“Sing hallelujah.”

When the last tooth snicked, Eve did an internal happy dance. Peabody did an actual one right on the stoop.

“Let there be heat.”

“Record on.” Eve drew her weapon, waited for Peabody to do the same. “Dallas, Lieutenant Eve, and Peabody, Detective Delia, entering residence under the name of Terra, Angela. We are duly authorized.”

She booted the door open, went in smooth, fast, and low.

A dim light eased on at the movement, showing a narrow foyer crammed with furniture. Eve gestured Peabody to the right.

“Let’s clear it. This is the police,” Eve called out. “We have entered the premises. We are armed,” she continued as she swept and moved forward.

Things, she thought, lots of things. Tables, lamps, vases, paintings. But no sign of life.

She worked her way back to the kitchen and found the dust of disuse. She called out, “Clear!” as Peabody did the same.

They backtracked, started up the stairs.

“Nobody lives here,” Peabody said. “There isn’t room with all the stuff.”

“It’s her warehouse.”

They cleared two bedrooms—jammed, a closet loaded with furs, some with the tags still attached. A room loaded with shoes, boots, handbags.

Then the master.

“Here’s where she worked.”

Satisfied, Eve holstered her weapon. “A lot of fussy stuff, but actually arranged, the sofa—pillows and one of those throw things—the desk, the d and c.

“Adjoining bath’s got fresh towels—fresh-ish,” Peabody said. “And soaps and bath oils, lotions. Enough of them for a department store, but she used at least some of them.”

Eve didn’t care about the lotions and oils. She went straight to the desk. She sat, tried to engage the computer.

Passcode required.

“Yeah, figured. Pull in EDD, and see who we have in the bullpen who isn’t on something hot. Add a couple of uniforms. It’s going to be a bitch to search and inventory.”

“You want sweepers?”

“Let’s see what we find first.”