“That’s a deal. We’re going to Finch’s. Once I get a sense of her, we’ll see if she can stand up as bait or needs to be removed to protective custody. Next on the list is McNamara. We pin him down today, on or off planet. If McNab . . . the pig bastard,” she corrected when Peabody’s head snapped around, “manages to uncloak any more target accounts, we move on them immediately. The civilian targets are priority.”
“Understood, sir.”
“Check in with the officer on duty at the hospital. We’re more likely to get word from our own first on any change in the victim’s condition than we are from medical staff.”
“Yes, sir. Can I say one more thing about the pig bastard? Absolutely the last thing I have to say on the subject.”
“The last thing? Well then, I can’t wait to hear it.”
“I hope his balls shrivel up like overbaked prunes then fall off in useless husks.”
“A very pleasant final image. I applaud you. Now tag the guard.”
Shuttle pilots, Eve decided, pulled in a fine, fat per annum. The apartment building was swank and silver, a shining spear ringed by glides that allowed residents and guests private exterior access if they were cleared.
As she’d already had her height quota for the next little while, Eve chose the interior access. The electronic greeting station requested her business, her name, and destination in a pleasant and no-nonsense tone.
“Police business. Dallas, Lieutenant Eve, and aide to see Stefanie Finch.” She held her badge up to the security screen, listened to the faint hum as it was scanned and verified.
“I’m sorry, Lieutenant Dallas, Ms. Finch is not in residence at this time. You may leave a message for her by requesting visitor voice mail.”
“When is she expected back?”
“I’m sorry, Lieutenant Dallas, I am no
t authorized to give that information without a warrant.”
“I bet Roarke owns this place,” Peabody commented as she gazed around the spacious black-and-silver lobby. “It’s his style. I bet if you told it you’re his wife—”
“No.” It irritated her just to think about it. “I want to see the resident or residents in apartment 3026.”
“Next-door neighbor. Good thinking.”
“One moment, Lieutenant Dallas. Mrs. Hargrove is in residence. I’ll submit your request for visitation.”
“Yeah, you do that. How do people stand being closed up in these places?” Eve wondered. “Like little ants in a hive.”
“I think it’s bees in a hive. Ants are—”
“Shut up, Peabody.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Mrs. Hargrove will allow visitation, Lieutenant Dallas and aide. Please use elevator bank five. Enjoy your visit, and the rest of your day.”
Alicanne Hargrove turned out to be not only willing but thrilled at the visit.
“Police.” She all but pulled Eve into her apartment. “So exciting. Has there been a robbery?”
“No, ma’am. I’d like to speak to you regarding Stefanie Finch.”
“Stef?” The animation on Alicanne’s pretty face faded. “Oh my goodness. She’s all right, isn’t she? She just left this morning for a shuttle run.”
“As far as I know she’s fine. You and Ms. Finch are friendly?”
“Yes, very. Oh, I’m sorry, sit down.”
She gestured to the painfully modern living area with its trio of gel-sofas. To Eve, they looked big enough, squishy enough to swallow any number of household pets. “Thanks, but this won’t take long. Can you tell me if you know if Ms. Finch is seeing anyone socially?”