In Death 59 - Passions in Death, page 32
“Not for him,” Eve said, and considered it a stroke of Roarke luck when she zipped into a place right outside the apartment building.
A third-floor unit, almost within shouting distance of where Shauna and Erin lived. No cams, crap security.
She mastered in, hit the stairs.
The soundproofing was better than Shauna’s building, but not by much. This time instead of wailing, a baby laughed somewhere on the second floor.
Though she decided it was hard to tell the difference.
On three, she knocked first. “NYPSD, Lieutenant Dallas, Detective Peabody, record on. Please open the door.”
When she got no response, she knocked a second time. “Dallas and Peabody entering premises by master for a duly warranted search and seizure.”
She mastered in, looked around while Peabody secured the door behind them.
Not too dissimilar from the apartment they’d just been in. More stylish, Eve supposed, not as bold and bright, but a similar footprint.
One of Erin’s paintings hung in the living area—a street scene showcasing Barney’s men’s shop. A gift, no doubt, and now insured for its increased value.
“No clutter,” she observed. “No lived-in mess, and well-coordinated. Like a man’s suit.”
“You could say that,” Peabody agreed. “Nothing out of place.”
“He wouldn’t keep it in a communal area. Bedroom, his space in there.”
They took the short hallway, turned.
“Nice and neat, but you can see they’ve been busy and distracted for a few days—things a little jumbled on this dresser—hers—perfume bottle, little dish with stuff tossed in. This one’s his, and that highboy, too, I’d wager. He’ll have more than her. Got himself matching shoehorn, clothes brush.”
Eve started to the highboy. “One closet, so communal. It won’t be there.”
“I’ve got his dresser.”
Eve took the highboy. She opened the top drawer first. She had about four inches on Becca, and the drawer hit her about chin level.
Socks, folded, not rolled, and color coordinated in dividers.
She pulled it all the way out.
“Jesus, this was too easy.”
“You’re kidding!”
“Nope. He slid it in the back of the drawer, behind some red socks.”
Eve took it out, opened it. “And here’s Shaunbar. Ring, couple pair of earrings, necklace, two bracelets.”
She bagged it, sealed, labeled.
“Would he keep the garrote? Hard to believe that, but since we’re here.”
A few minutes later, Peabody called out, “Not the garrote, but I’ve got piano wire.” Peabody held up the package. “And funny, they don’t have a piano.”
“Bag it,” Eve said, “and let’s go bag him.”
With, Eve thought when she double-parked in front of the men’s shop, as much humiliation as possible.
Several horns blasted as she stepped onto the sidewalk. She ignored them.
The display window showed a couple of fake men. One wore a sharp charcoal suit with needle pinstripes that made her wonder if Baxter shopped there. The other, though it was sweltering August, wore a forest-green sweater with black leather pants.
It had a scarf in dull gold tossed jauntily around its neck.
She stepped in to cool air scented with something between pine and cedar.
Summer stuff—though sweltering August—was displayed on a sales rack or neatly folded on shelves.
Suits, hung in sections by designers, comprised most of one wall. Dress shirts, crisp and folded, were stacked in cubbies. Casual wear took the opposite side, and accessories—ties, cuff links, wallets, belts, and so on—had glass displays in the center.
It boosted her to see one of the staff with a customer while the other approached her with a smile.
“Good morning, ladies—nearly afternoon now! How can I be of service?”
“You can get the manager.”
His young, slick, handsome face showed concern. “Oh, is there a problem?”
“Apparently. Where’s Greg Barney?”
“He’s in the dressing room area with a client. If I could assist—”
“You can, by getting him.”
“Of course. Just one moment.”
As he hurried off, the shop door opened.
Eve recognized Allisandra Charro, personal shopper, from a case they’d recently closed.
And Charro recognized her.
Beaming smiles, she stepped forward in red stilettos and offered a perfectly manicured hand. “Why, Lieutenant Dallas! We meet at last. I helped you identify a murderous teenager by his Stubens.”
“I remember.”
“Shopping for Roarke?”
“No. On duty.”
“Really? How exciting. I’m just here to make some selections for a client—whom I assume has no murderous intent.”
“Good luck with that.”
As Barney came out, Eve walked toward him.
“Oh, Lieutenant, Detective. If I’d known— You’ve charged that terrible woman.”
“Yeah, we did. And now it’s your turn. Greg Barney, you’re under arrest for robbery.”
“What? What? That’s insane. I’ve never stolen anything in my life!”
She sort of hoped he’d resist, but apparently he was too shocked to make a fuss as she cuffed him.
“You have the right to remain silent,” she began as Peabody flanked him and they started out.
“This is some crazy mistake. Roderick, take over. I’ll have this sorted out in no time.”
“Bet you don’t. You have the right to an attorney and/or legal representation,” Eve continued as they walked him out.
“I’d absolutely love to dress you,” Charro called out. “More than ever!”
“I take care of that all by myself.” She continued the Revised Miranda, and Barney, flushed to the roots of his hair with mortification, continued to protest his innocence.
“This is outrageous!” he began to sputter when secured in the back of the car. “You’ve embarrassed me at my place of business.”
Hope so, Eve thought as she got behind the wheel.
“I’m not a thief. What am I supposed to have stolen? How could you do something like this?”
“With a warrant.”
“I don’t believe you. I haven’t stolen anything, so you can’t have a warrant.”
“Right here.” Helpfully, Peabody held up the warrant she’d printed out on her PPC.
“I assumed the two of you were reasonably competent, but now I see why it took you days to arrest that stripper for Erin’s murder.”
Peabody started to speak, caught Eve’s slight head shake, and let that ride.
“I told you it was some lowlife, and it was. Shauna should never have associated with someone like that, and wouldn’t have except for Erin.”
Keep talking, Eve thought. Record’s on, rights read.
“Now you come into my shop, in front of clients and staff, and drag me out like a common criminal.”
“I don’t recall any dragging. Do you recall dragging, Peabody?”
“No, sir, I don’t. And the record will show no dragging involved. He actually came along fairly meekly.” She shifted to smile at him. “Thanks for your cooperation.”
“It shows what happens when the flighty are given authority.”
“Now we’re flighty,” Eve observed. “Peabody, we’re incompetent, flighty draggers.”
“Maybe. But he’s the one in cuffs.”
Pride swelled in Eve’s chest as she pulled into the garage.
“And here we are, home again.”
When they got him out of the back, he jutted out his chin.
“I can tolerate mistakes. People make mistakes. But there’s no excuse for humiliating me at my workplace. There will be recompense.”
“Counting on that,” Eve said, and led him into the elevator. “Detective Peabody is going to process you, then we’ll have a nice chat, the three of us, in Interview.”
“The sooner this is sorted out, the better.”
His chin continued to jut as the elevator stopped to let in more cops.
“And once we do, you will come to the shop, apologize to me in front of my staff, and you will contact Mr. Henrich and Ms. Charro and explain your mistake.”
One of the cops in the car slid an amused glance in Eve’s direction.
“Doesn’t know you very well, does he?”
Eve just smiled. “Not yet. He’s about to.”
Chapter Twenty-three
Smarter, Eve decided as she prepped for the interview, to have yelled lawyer right off the jump. But he considered himself in the clear on the murder, and as far as he was concerned hadn’t stolen anything.
Add he considered himself smarter than a couple of female cops, and he’d decided to forgo that one. For now.
Tagging a lawyer also meant someone else knew about his arrest. He wouldn’t want that.
She put the evidence bags in an evidence box, added some crime scene photos to a file. Then, checking the time, tagged Roarke.
His face filled the screen. “Lieutenant, you just caught me. Lunch meeting coming up.”
“Well, bon appétit there. Just letting you know I’m bringing Barney into the box.”
“For the murder.”
“That’ll be the end result. We’re starting off with theft. What he took out of Shauna’s apartment that day. I knew it. Now I know what. Some baubles he’d given her back in high school. She’d kept them in a box for sentiment. I guess he couldn’t have that, so when he had the chance—alone in her place—he took the box. He hid it in his sock drawer.”
“His sock drawer? Not very clever.”
“Well, it’s the top of one of those highboy things. He has his socks folded, in dividers, color coordinated. It’s a red box, so with the red socks. Do you do that with yours? The folding, coordinating thing? I don’t think I’ve ever been in your sock drawer.”
“Why would you? But you’re welcome to, as if I had anything to hide, I would be a great deal more clever. If I could postpone this meeting, I’d come down and watch you break him. Always an education.”
Gone, she noted, was the sad, broody, angry Roarke of the night before. He looked like busy, in-charge Roarke now.
“We will break him, and I appreciate the assist in getting him this far.”
“Anytime, Lieutenant. I’ll expect to be fully briefed when I see you at home.”
“Check it. Later.”
She clicked off, then gathered her things for Interview A.
She sat as if studiously studying the file when Peabody led him in.
The Giant’s Tear hung, flashing, outside her shirt.
“Record on. Have a seat, Greg. Dallas, Lieutenant Eve, and Peabody, Detective Delia, in Interview with Barney, Greg, in the matter of file number R/T-98721. Also of interest in this interview, file number H-7823.
“Mr. Barney, have you been read your rights?”
“You know very well I have.” He fussed with his tie. “You recited them to me yourself after deliberately humiliating me at work.”
“Well then, let’s get started.”
“I demand to know, right now, what I’m accused of. Just what are you deluded into believing I stole?”
“Why don’t I show you?”
After opening the evidence box, she removed the evidence bag with the red trinket box.
He went very still, and his face went from annoyed to a cold, hard mask.
“Where did you get that?”
“Where you put it. Your sock drawer—lots of fancy socks, Greg. Red box, red socks. Found it in about ten seconds.”
“And what gives you the right to go into my home, to paw through my personal belongings?”
“Peabody?”
“Why, that would be this warrant.”
“Duly executed,” Eve added. “This and what it contains are not your property, Greg. Hence, theft.”
“I knew this was a ridiculous mistake.” He huffed out a breath, leaned in a bit. “I gave what’s in that box to Shauna.”
“Gifts.”
“Yes, yes, gifts.”
“Are you aware that once you give a gift, it no longer belongs to you? Hence, I repeat, theft.”
“I took them for safekeeping. Shauna’s not been herself, as you should understand. She’s had a trauma, and isn’t thinking straight right now. She’s talking about selling most of her things, and since I know she values those gifts, has kept them for years, I didn’t want them to get somehow lost in the shuffle.”
“So you took them, without asking her. Hence, I’m forced to repeat, theft.”
“She would never think of it that way. People are going through her apartment. Friends and relatives of Erin. Who knows what they might take? I just wanted to keep them safe until she’s feeling better.”
“So, worried about thievery, you committed same.”
“Oh, for God’s sake.” He waved that away. “Contact Shauna. She’ll say it’s fine.”
“Yet, you hid this.” She tapped the box.
“I didn’t hide it. I placed it.”
“In the back of your sock drawer. Without mentioning it to your cohab—that’s Becca, isn’t it? Also a good, concerned friend of Shauna’s.”
“I may have mentioned it. I don’t recall.”
“Peabody, why don’t you step out and contact Becca DiNuzio, since Greg’s memory is sketchy on it?”
“I probably didn’t.” He waved that away again. “We’ve been busy, distracted. A friend was murdered. Our closest friend is grieving.”
“You took this, with its contents, from Shauna’s apartment the evening you were there, ostensibly to remove items from the AC and the friggie.”
“Nothing ostensibly about it. That’s what I did. I thought of the box while I was clearing out. Maybe I acted impulsively.” He shrugged at that. “But with what was best for Shauna in my heart and mind.”
“You decide what’s best for her?”
“She’s grieving,” he said with insulting patience. “She’s hardly in the state of mind to make logical choices. This is a waste of time. A five-second ’link call to Shauna will straighten this out. And then, I damn well expect those apologies.”
“Right. You didn’t much like Erin Albright, did you, Greg?”
He managed to look shocked and insulted at once. “Of course I did! She was Shauna’s fiancée. And I’m very grateful you, finally, caught her killer. But that doesn’t excuse—”
“Yeah, we caught her killer.” Eve tapped the box again, then, taking it out of the evidence bag, opened it. “What do you think, Peabody?”
“Sweet, pretty. Immature, but suitable for a high school girl.”
“They’re classic.” He spoke coldly. “Timeless. Simple, yes, but classic, so used to dress up or dress down.”
“Well, you’re the fashion guy. Still, she kept them separate from her other jewelry. She didn’t wear these anymore.”
“She could have. Her choice.”
“Yeah, hers. Like Erin was her choice. You were her choice once. Shaunbar.”
“In high school. Happy memories, yes, and a strong bond between us. But I’m in a committed relationship with someone else.”
“From high school.”
His jaw tensed, then jutted again. “It’s entirely different now, for all of us.”
“It really is. Shauna was also in a committed relationship.”
“I’m aware.”
“And now you’ll help her rebuild her life, move past the trauma.”
“I’ll certainly try.”
“Because you look out for her. Making her sandwiches, walking her home from work when you can manage it, giving advice, doing favors.”
His long sigh added a fresh layer to that insulting patience.
“Friends tend to do all of that. Good friends, real friends certainly do. Now, I’d like to leave. If you’d just contact Shauna—”
“We’ve talked to her already,” Peabody said. “And she couldn’t think of why you, or anyone, would take that box and the jewelry inside.”
That concerned him, Eve noted, as his eyes darted away.
“Because you haven’t let me talk to her, explain to her. As I think I’ve clearly explained to you.”
“So you took it upon yourself to go into her bedroom—without her knowledge or permission—go through her dresser—without her knowledge or permission—remove a box containing jewelry—without her knowledge or permission. Then hid same in your own bedroom, in your own dresser. That’s your explanation for stealing?”
She could actually see the muscles in his face tighten.
“You’re being deliberately obtuse.” His tone, deeply patronizing, carried an edge of ripe temper.
“Obtuse and flighty? I wonder what’s next.”
“I simply didn’t want Shauna to do something she’d regret. And given her emotional state—”
“Are you her therapist, too?” Peabody widened her eyes. “A man of many facets.”
“Oh, blow me.”
When that edge went jagged, the smile Eve held inside was broad and fierce.
“Sorry,” Peabody countered. “Performing sexual acts in Interview is frowned upon.”
“This is bullshit. I was acting in the best interest of a friend who tends to act on impulse and emotion in the best of times. Which these clearly aren’t. Now, I’m done with this. I’m leaving.”
“Sit your ass down.”
The whiplash in Eve’s voice had him jerking.
“We’re in charge here,” she reminded him.
He sat, but eyed her with derision. “You won’t be when this is over. Trust me on that.”
“I’m a police lieutenant with a dozen years behind my badge. Do you think I’m afraid of some guy who sells overpriced ties? Some guy who steals some cheap jewelry from a friend and hides it in his sock drawer?”
“I manage a well-respected men’s store that caters to a discerning clientele. And the jewelry I gave Shauna wasn’t cheap. It may not compare to that rock around your neck, but it wasn’t cheap. It was appropriate.”
“This?” Deliberately, she lifted the diamond by its chain. “I just wear this for sentiment.” Which was absolute truth, she thought as she dropped it under her shirt.
A third-floor unit, almost within shouting distance of where Shauna and Erin lived. No cams, crap security.
She mastered in, hit the stairs.
The soundproofing was better than Shauna’s building, but not by much. This time instead of wailing, a baby laughed somewhere on the second floor.
Though she decided it was hard to tell the difference.
On three, she knocked first. “NYPSD, Lieutenant Dallas, Detective Peabody, record on. Please open the door.”
When she got no response, she knocked a second time. “Dallas and Peabody entering premises by master for a duly warranted search and seizure.”
She mastered in, looked around while Peabody secured the door behind them.
Not too dissimilar from the apartment they’d just been in. More stylish, Eve supposed, not as bold and bright, but a similar footprint.
One of Erin’s paintings hung in the living area—a street scene showcasing Barney’s men’s shop. A gift, no doubt, and now insured for its increased value.
“No clutter,” she observed. “No lived-in mess, and well-coordinated. Like a man’s suit.”
“You could say that,” Peabody agreed. “Nothing out of place.”
“He wouldn’t keep it in a communal area. Bedroom, his space in there.”
They took the short hallway, turned.
“Nice and neat, but you can see they’ve been busy and distracted for a few days—things a little jumbled on this dresser—hers—perfume bottle, little dish with stuff tossed in. This one’s his, and that highboy, too, I’d wager. He’ll have more than her. Got himself matching shoehorn, clothes brush.”
Eve started to the highboy. “One closet, so communal. It won’t be there.”
“I’ve got his dresser.”
Eve took the highboy. She opened the top drawer first. She had about four inches on Becca, and the drawer hit her about chin level.
Socks, folded, not rolled, and color coordinated in dividers.
She pulled it all the way out.
“Jesus, this was too easy.”
“You’re kidding!”
“Nope. He slid it in the back of the drawer, behind some red socks.”
Eve took it out, opened it. “And here’s Shaunbar. Ring, couple pair of earrings, necklace, two bracelets.”
She bagged it, sealed, labeled.
“Would he keep the garrote? Hard to believe that, but since we’re here.”
A few minutes later, Peabody called out, “Not the garrote, but I’ve got piano wire.” Peabody held up the package. “And funny, they don’t have a piano.”
“Bag it,” Eve said, “and let’s go bag him.”
With, Eve thought when she double-parked in front of the men’s shop, as much humiliation as possible.
Several horns blasted as she stepped onto the sidewalk. She ignored them.
The display window showed a couple of fake men. One wore a sharp charcoal suit with needle pinstripes that made her wonder if Baxter shopped there. The other, though it was sweltering August, wore a forest-green sweater with black leather pants.
It had a scarf in dull gold tossed jauntily around its neck.
She stepped in to cool air scented with something between pine and cedar.
Summer stuff—though sweltering August—was displayed on a sales rack or neatly folded on shelves.
Suits, hung in sections by designers, comprised most of one wall. Dress shirts, crisp and folded, were stacked in cubbies. Casual wear took the opposite side, and accessories—ties, cuff links, wallets, belts, and so on—had glass displays in the center.
It boosted her to see one of the staff with a customer while the other approached her with a smile.
“Good morning, ladies—nearly afternoon now! How can I be of service?”
“You can get the manager.”
His young, slick, handsome face showed concern. “Oh, is there a problem?”
“Apparently. Where’s Greg Barney?”
“He’s in the dressing room area with a client. If I could assist—”
“You can, by getting him.”
“Of course. Just one moment.”
As he hurried off, the shop door opened.
Eve recognized Allisandra Charro, personal shopper, from a case they’d recently closed.
And Charro recognized her.
Beaming smiles, she stepped forward in red stilettos and offered a perfectly manicured hand. “Why, Lieutenant Dallas! We meet at last. I helped you identify a murderous teenager by his Stubens.”
“I remember.”
“Shopping for Roarke?”
“No. On duty.”
“Really? How exciting. I’m just here to make some selections for a client—whom I assume has no murderous intent.”
“Good luck with that.”
As Barney came out, Eve walked toward him.
“Oh, Lieutenant, Detective. If I’d known— You’ve charged that terrible woman.”
“Yeah, we did. And now it’s your turn. Greg Barney, you’re under arrest for robbery.”
“What? What? That’s insane. I’ve never stolen anything in my life!”
She sort of hoped he’d resist, but apparently he was too shocked to make a fuss as she cuffed him.
“You have the right to remain silent,” she began as Peabody flanked him and they started out.
“This is some crazy mistake. Roderick, take over. I’ll have this sorted out in no time.”
“Bet you don’t. You have the right to an attorney and/or legal representation,” Eve continued as they walked him out.
“I’d absolutely love to dress you,” Charro called out. “More than ever!”
“I take care of that all by myself.” She continued the Revised Miranda, and Barney, flushed to the roots of his hair with mortification, continued to protest his innocence.
“This is outrageous!” he began to sputter when secured in the back of the car. “You’ve embarrassed me at my place of business.”
Hope so, Eve thought as she got behind the wheel.
“I’m not a thief. What am I supposed to have stolen? How could you do something like this?”
“With a warrant.”
“I don’t believe you. I haven’t stolen anything, so you can’t have a warrant.”
“Right here.” Helpfully, Peabody held up the warrant she’d printed out on her PPC.
“I assumed the two of you were reasonably competent, but now I see why it took you days to arrest that stripper for Erin’s murder.”
Peabody started to speak, caught Eve’s slight head shake, and let that ride.
“I told you it was some lowlife, and it was. Shauna should never have associated with someone like that, and wouldn’t have except for Erin.”
Keep talking, Eve thought. Record’s on, rights read.
“Now you come into my shop, in front of clients and staff, and drag me out like a common criminal.”
“I don’t recall any dragging. Do you recall dragging, Peabody?”
“No, sir, I don’t. And the record will show no dragging involved. He actually came along fairly meekly.” She shifted to smile at him. “Thanks for your cooperation.”
“It shows what happens when the flighty are given authority.”
“Now we’re flighty,” Eve observed. “Peabody, we’re incompetent, flighty draggers.”
“Maybe. But he’s the one in cuffs.”
Pride swelled in Eve’s chest as she pulled into the garage.
“And here we are, home again.”
When they got him out of the back, he jutted out his chin.
“I can tolerate mistakes. People make mistakes. But there’s no excuse for humiliating me at my workplace. There will be recompense.”
“Counting on that,” Eve said, and led him into the elevator. “Detective Peabody is going to process you, then we’ll have a nice chat, the three of us, in Interview.”
“The sooner this is sorted out, the better.”
His chin continued to jut as the elevator stopped to let in more cops.
“And once we do, you will come to the shop, apologize to me in front of my staff, and you will contact Mr. Henrich and Ms. Charro and explain your mistake.”
One of the cops in the car slid an amused glance in Eve’s direction.
“Doesn’t know you very well, does he?”
Eve just smiled. “Not yet. He’s about to.”
Chapter Twenty-three
Smarter, Eve decided as she prepped for the interview, to have yelled lawyer right off the jump. But he considered himself in the clear on the murder, and as far as he was concerned hadn’t stolen anything.
Add he considered himself smarter than a couple of female cops, and he’d decided to forgo that one. For now.
Tagging a lawyer also meant someone else knew about his arrest. He wouldn’t want that.
She put the evidence bags in an evidence box, added some crime scene photos to a file. Then, checking the time, tagged Roarke.
His face filled the screen. “Lieutenant, you just caught me. Lunch meeting coming up.”
“Well, bon appétit there. Just letting you know I’m bringing Barney into the box.”
“For the murder.”
“That’ll be the end result. We’re starting off with theft. What he took out of Shauna’s apartment that day. I knew it. Now I know what. Some baubles he’d given her back in high school. She’d kept them in a box for sentiment. I guess he couldn’t have that, so when he had the chance—alone in her place—he took the box. He hid it in his sock drawer.”
“His sock drawer? Not very clever.”
“Well, it’s the top of one of those highboy things. He has his socks folded, in dividers, color coordinated. It’s a red box, so with the red socks. Do you do that with yours? The folding, coordinating thing? I don’t think I’ve ever been in your sock drawer.”
“Why would you? But you’re welcome to, as if I had anything to hide, I would be a great deal more clever. If I could postpone this meeting, I’d come down and watch you break him. Always an education.”
Gone, she noted, was the sad, broody, angry Roarke of the night before. He looked like busy, in-charge Roarke now.
“We will break him, and I appreciate the assist in getting him this far.”
“Anytime, Lieutenant. I’ll expect to be fully briefed when I see you at home.”
“Check it. Later.”
She clicked off, then gathered her things for Interview A.
She sat as if studiously studying the file when Peabody led him in.
The Giant’s Tear hung, flashing, outside her shirt.
“Record on. Have a seat, Greg. Dallas, Lieutenant Eve, and Peabody, Detective Delia, in Interview with Barney, Greg, in the matter of file number R/T-98721. Also of interest in this interview, file number H-7823.
“Mr. Barney, have you been read your rights?”
“You know very well I have.” He fussed with his tie. “You recited them to me yourself after deliberately humiliating me at work.”
“Well then, let’s get started.”
“I demand to know, right now, what I’m accused of. Just what are you deluded into believing I stole?”
“Why don’t I show you?”
After opening the evidence box, she removed the evidence bag with the red trinket box.
He went very still, and his face went from annoyed to a cold, hard mask.
“Where did you get that?”
“Where you put it. Your sock drawer—lots of fancy socks, Greg. Red box, red socks. Found it in about ten seconds.”
“And what gives you the right to go into my home, to paw through my personal belongings?”
“Peabody?”
“Why, that would be this warrant.”
“Duly executed,” Eve added. “This and what it contains are not your property, Greg. Hence, theft.”
“I knew this was a ridiculous mistake.” He huffed out a breath, leaned in a bit. “I gave what’s in that box to Shauna.”
“Gifts.”
“Yes, yes, gifts.”
“Are you aware that once you give a gift, it no longer belongs to you? Hence, I repeat, theft.”
“I took them for safekeeping. Shauna’s not been herself, as you should understand. She’s had a trauma, and isn’t thinking straight right now. She’s talking about selling most of her things, and since I know she values those gifts, has kept them for years, I didn’t want them to get somehow lost in the shuffle.”
“So you took them, without asking her. Hence, I’m forced to repeat, theft.”
“She would never think of it that way. People are going through her apartment. Friends and relatives of Erin. Who knows what they might take? I just wanted to keep them safe until she’s feeling better.”
“So, worried about thievery, you committed same.”
“Oh, for God’s sake.” He waved that away. “Contact Shauna. She’ll say it’s fine.”
“Yet, you hid this.” She tapped the box.
“I didn’t hide it. I placed it.”
“In the back of your sock drawer. Without mentioning it to your cohab—that’s Becca, isn’t it? Also a good, concerned friend of Shauna’s.”
“I may have mentioned it. I don’t recall.”
“Peabody, why don’t you step out and contact Becca DiNuzio, since Greg’s memory is sketchy on it?”
“I probably didn’t.” He waved that away again. “We’ve been busy, distracted. A friend was murdered. Our closest friend is grieving.”
“You took this, with its contents, from Shauna’s apartment the evening you were there, ostensibly to remove items from the AC and the friggie.”
“Nothing ostensibly about it. That’s what I did. I thought of the box while I was clearing out. Maybe I acted impulsively.” He shrugged at that. “But with what was best for Shauna in my heart and mind.”
“You decide what’s best for her?”
“She’s grieving,” he said with insulting patience. “She’s hardly in the state of mind to make logical choices. This is a waste of time. A five-second ’link call to Shauna will straighten this out. And then, I damn well expect those apologies.”
“Right. You didn’t much like Erin Albright, did you, Greg?”
He managed to look shocked and insulted at once. “Of course I did! She was Shauna’s fiancée. And I’m very grateful you, finally, caught her killer. But that doesn’t excuse—”
“Yeah, we caught her killer.” Eve tapped the box again, then, taking it out of the evidence bag, opened it. “What do you think, Peabody?”
“Sweet, pretty. Immature, but suitable for a high school girl.”
“They’re classic.” He spoke coldly. “Timeless. Simple, yes, but classic, so used to dress up or dress down.”
“Well, you’re the fashion guy. Still, she kept them separate from her other jewelry. She didn’t wear these anymore.”
“She could have. Her choice.”
“Yeah, hers. Like Erin was her choice. You were her choice once. Shaunbar.”
“In high school. Happy memories, yes, and a strong bond between us. But I’m in a committed relationship with someone else.”
“From high school.”
His jaw tensed, then jutted again. “It’s entirely different now, for all of us.”
“It really is. Shauna was also in a committed relationship.”
“I’m aware.”
“And now you’ll help her rebuild her life, move past the trauma.”
“I’ll certainly try.”
“Because you look out for her. Making her sandwiches, walking her home from work when you can manage it, giving advice, doing favors.”
His long sigh added a fresh layer to that insulting patience.
“Friends tend to do all of that. Good friends, real friends certainly do. Now, I’d like to leave. If you’d just contact Shauna—”
“We’ve talked to her already,” Peabody said. “And she couldn’t think of why you, or anyone, would take that box and the jewelry inside.”
That concerned him, Eve noted, as his eyes darted away.
“Because you haven’t let me talk to her, explain to her. As I think I’ve clearly explained to you.”
“So you took it upon yourself to go into her bedroom—without her knowledge or permission—go through her dresser—without her knowledge or permission—remove a box containing jewelry—without her knowledge or permission. Then hid same in your own bedroom, in your own dresser. That’s your explanation for stealing?”
She could actually see the muscles in his face tighten.
“You’re being deliberately obtuse.” His tone, deeply patronizing, carried an edge of ripe temper.
“Obtuse and flighty? I wonder what’s next.”
“I simply didn’t want Shauna to do something she’d regret. And given her emotional state—”
“Are you her therapist, too?” Peabody widened her eyes. “A man of many facets.”
“Oh, blow me.”
When that edge went jagged, the smile Eve held inside was broad and fierce.
“Sorry,” Peabody countered. “Performing sexual acts in Interview is frowned upon.”
“This is bullshit. I was acting in the best interest of a friend who tends to act on impulse and emotion in the best of times. Which these clearly aren’t. Now, I’m done with this. I’m leaving.”
“Sit your ass down.”
The whiplash in Eve’s voice had him jerking.
“We’re in charge here,” she reminded him.
He sat, but eyed her with derision. “You won’t be when this is over. Trust me on that.”
“I’m a police lieutenant with a dozen years behind my badge. Do you think I’m afraid of some guy who sells overpriced ties? Some guy who steals some cheap jewelry from a friend and hides it in his sock drawer?”
“I manage a well-respected men’s store that caters to a discerning clientele. And the jewelry I gave Shauna wasn’t cheap. It may not compare to that rock around your neck, but it wasn’t cheap. It was appropriate.”
“This?” Deliberately, she lifted the diamond by its chain. “I just wear this for sentiment.” Which was absolute truth, she thought as she dropped it under her shirt.
