Eve started downstairs with the cupcake. “Officers Carmichael and Shelby, mission abort. Suspect no longer lives here. Do a canvass of the neighborhood, show her photo. Maybe we’ll hit something.”
At the bottom of the stairs, Detective Carmichael pointed a finger. “That’s a cupcake.”
“Excellent powers of observation, Detective.”
“You’ve got a cupcake.”
“No, Mrs. Waterstone in 103 is getting a cupcake.”
“I got one I’m sharing because that’s the kind of exceptional human being I am. Break off a bite.”
“Thanks.”
“Then head back to DeLano’s neighborhood and keep at it,” Eve told them.
Santiago broke off a bite himself. “She’s slippery, boss.”
“Yeah. She’s damn slippery.”
“Want, Peabody?”
Peabody eyed the chunk left in Callendar’s palm. “Half of that because loose pants.”
“Half. Dallas?”
Eve shook her head, headed to 103.
“She is Woman of Steel,” Callendar observed. “Who says no to cupcake?” And since it was there, she popped the last bite in her mouth.
Eve buzzed at 103, got another staticky intercom.
“Yes?”
“Mrs. Waterstone, I’m Lieutenant Dallas with the NYPSD.”
“You’re a little out of your neighborhood, dear.”
“Yes, ma’am. Your neighbor upstairs, Ms. Lipwitch, said you might be able to help us with information on a former tenant of the building. And she sent you a cupcake.”
A rattle, a click, and the door opened to a tiny black woman with a snow-white bubble of hair and a cheerful smile. “She knows my sweet tooth. Goodness, three of you, and all girls. All girl police?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“That’s what I’m talking about. That, and that cupcake. Well, come ahead in. I just finished all my chores and was about to sit down with my book. This should be even more fun. Do you want tea?”
“No, thanks.”
If chores meant cleaning the apartment, the little woman was a champ on chores. It all but glimmered. While the furniture showed years of use, it didn’t carry so much as a speck of dust.
By book, Eve realized she meant the real thing. Roarke would have approved of the shelves packed with them.
Photos tucked in here and there, a lot of kids’ faces.
“Now, you girls have a seat and tell me what you want to know.”
“Did you know Ann Elizabeth Smith?”
“The little mouse who used to live upstairs? Couldn’t say I knew her. Wouldn’t say boo to a goose, whatever the hell that means. Why would anybody? What’s she done?”