Vendetta in Death (In Death 49)

“Saw that, too? Good.” Eve drove out of the gates. “Watch your back. And take a cab home.” Eve pulled over, dug out the fare.

“No, I’ve got enough.”

“Take it, and take a cab. Go home, bake a pie or something to clear your head.”

“I might.”

“Then get ready. She’s going to want to move tonight. We boxed her in some, and she won’t waste time.”

“I’ll be ready,” Peabody said as she got out. “You watch your back, too.”

“Count on it.” As she drove, Eve contacted Baxter. “Change of schedule. Move up the stakeout.”

“To when?”

“To now.”

19

Eve figured Linus Brinkman might appreciate a heads-up on being a target of a homicidal, sadistic whack job, even if it interrupted his massage.

She intended to start with him, then work her way through the list of potential targets. Talking to each of them face-to-face about their schedules, their habits, and yeah, their asshole behavior might give her a solid lead toward Darla’s next target, her planned method.

She leaned toward Brinkman anyway, and the evening’s gala.

With parking at a premium and traffic thick, she squeezed into a loading zone, flipped on her On Duty light.

Brinkman lived in an old, well-restored building right on Park, with a doorman, a scattering of terraces, and a pricey view.

The doorman, in steel gray with silver trim, gave her a once-over.

“May I assist you? Are you visiting a resident?”

“Brinkman, Linus.”

“Are you expected?”

“No.” She pulled out her badge. “Brinkman, Linus,” she repeated.

“Is there a problem, Lieutenant?”

“Yes.” She left it at that, moved around him, and would have pulled open the wide glass door if he hadn’t moved nimbly to beat her to it.

“Wynona at the desk will clear you.”

“Okay.”

She crossed a quiet lobby with its white marble tiles, the conversationally arranged chairs in subtle gray, the massive table with its massive floral arrangement.

Wynona—Eve assumed—sat behind a deeply carved counter Eve thought looked as if it had once been a bar. Her hair, scooped back at the temples, fell in burnished brown waves down the back of her simple black suit.

She smiled her practiced smile. “Good afternoon. How can I assist you?”

Eve badged her. “Linus Brinkman.”

“Of course. I’ll let Mr. Brinkman know you’re here.”

“No. I’ll just go up.”