Dark in Death (In Death 46)

“Has this woman visited? Ann Elizabeth Smith.”

“I believe so, but let me verify.”

She turned to her comp, went to work. “I can verify that Ms. Smith has signed in to the visitors’ log. Her last visit was February third, at three in the afternoon.”

“Clear us up.”

“Lieutenant, I’m obligated to notify Ms. Berkle of requests to visit her private residence. If you could …” Her gaze shifted to Roarke. She blinked, twice.

“No harm in that, is there, Lieutenant?” Roarke said easily. “If you’d let Ms. Berkle know that Lieutenant Dallas, Detective Peabody, and Roarke would like a few moments of her time?”

“Of course. If you’d like to take a seat while I—”

“We’re fine,” Eve snapped. “Tag her, clear us up.”

“Absolutely.” She tapped her earpiece, waited a couple of beats. “Yes, Earnestine, it’s Paulette at the concierge desk. Would you see if Ms. Berkle is home to Lieutenant Dallas, Detective Peabody, and Roarke? Yes, I’ll hold.”

Eve shifted to eye the bank of three elevators—mirrored gold like the walls.

“Yes, thank you. I’ll be sending them up now.”

After another earpiece tap, Paulette went back to her comp. “Ms. Berkle would be delighted to greet you. Please take Elevator Three. I’ll clear it for Ms. Berkle’s residence. Enjoy your visit.”

Eve said nothing until they walked into the elevator and the doors shut—with soft, mindless music cuing on.

“You tipped those snooty doormen.”

“The snooty doormen were only doing their job,” Roarke responded.

“And you tipped the tight-ass concierge.”

“That I didn’t.”

“With Roarke charm.”

“Ah, that. Well now, that simply exudes when it’s called for, and is free for the taking.”

Peabody unsuccessfully muffled a snicker.

“But you don’t own the building, or we’d already be talking to Berkle.”

“I believe Natalia owns it, or the majority portion of it. Would you like me to make her an offer?”

“I’ve already dealt with a tight-ass, so I don’t need the smart-ass.”

“But it’s such a good match with your own. Our lieutenant draws smart-asses like bears to honey, wouldn’t you say, Peabody?”

“I don’t want her boot up mine, so I’ll take the Fifth.”

“Wise, as is our lieutenant, as she’s already connected your suspect with Natalia.”

“Coincidence is bollocks,” Eve said as the doors opened.

A woman stood pin-neat in black pants and a creamy white sweater, her hair a short and glossy brown bob around a pleasant face.

“Good evening, please come in. I’m Earnestine, Ms. Berkle’s personal assistant.”

She gestured them through the private foyer decked with fresh flowers in a dozen slim vases and a tinkling wall fountain of a mermaid pouring water from a seashell into a small pool.