“Thank you both for your help.”
“I don’t understand what could’ve happened.” Tears blurred the cook’s eyes again.
“It’s our job to find that out. The office will be sealed off for the time being, and at Ms. Barrister’s request, there will be uniformed officers on the premises tonight.”
Before they left, the butler retrieved the chair from the lounge, carried it back to the dining room.
“What have you got?” Eve asked Peabody.
“None of them are sure of the time they woke up. Acker—the housekeeper—heard screaming, or thought she did. She said it took her a minute or two to realize it really was screaming, then she jumped out of bed. Their rooms are downstairs. She says she banged on the butler’s door first, then ran up, and found the wife on the floor, cradling the victim, still screaming. The victim’s sister had her ’link out, contacting nine-one-one.
“The butler came onto the scene, then the cook. They all corroborate. Tyler says he heard Acker bang on his door, shout something was wrong. That’s when he heard the screams. Fortigue, the cook, said she heard banging and running, then the screaming.”
“And leading up to all that?”
“Barrister wasn’t feeling well. The cook made him chicken soup, and he went up to bed not long after dinner. The butler and housekeeper were already in their quarters by then. Fortigue states Aileen Carville was concerned about Barrister, that he tended to get a respiratory deal late summer, early fall. The sister said something about he’d always done that, it wouldn’t be serious. She went down to her quarters about eight-thirty.”
“Any sense of conflict in the household?”
“Nothing. The sister’s been here for about ten days, and plans to stay for about another week or two, or however long it takes the crews to finish the work on her condo. Both the victim and his sister go into work through the week, generally leaving by eight-thirty. Carville generally works at home.”
Peabody finished off the last of the coffee Divine had made her.
“The victim and his family moved in the second week of May. There were some worries—with the staff—whether they’d sell. All three state they’ve come to consider this home as much as employment, so they’vebeen grateful the victim and his family kept the house, and kept them on.”
Peabody glanced around. “They’re also happy about the changes they’ve made. My impression? They respected and admired Henry Barrister, but they really liked Nathan Barrister. Liked the whole family.”
McNab pranced in, blond tail of hair with its red tip swinging. His bony ass was covered with baggies the color Eve thought you’d get if you mated an orange with an eggplant. Since his shirt screamed in orange and purple zigzags, she assumed that was deliberate.
His usual forest of hoops and studs curved up both ears.
“Wild digs. And holy shit, that vault. It’s like the high of high-class pawn shops. And the actual vault? It’s like way last century. Classic. If it hadn’t been open, I could’ve cracked that baby in about fifteen minutes.”
Then he grinned. “I figure Roarke for under half of that. But still.”
“Security?” Eve said.
“Right. Definite breach. The system’s dated, too. Solid enough, but an easy decade or more behind. Broke in right through the office window. What they did? Unlocked it electronically, then just opened it, came through. Didn’t bother to lock it on the way out. Slick enough,” he added, “but it didn’t take that much with this system.”
Eve started out for the office. “Did the morgue pick up the body?”
“Yeah. The sweepers just got here. We opened the tablet—just a standard password deal. It’s got everything in there listed. Plus what the dude paid for it, when he got whatever, what it’s worth, all of it.”
She stopped in the office doorway, watched sweepers taking samples of blood, others bagging the amethyst or dusting surfaces.
“Where’s Roarke?”
“He wanted to check something outside. We’ve been through the place—a lot of place to go through. Just surface right now. But going by surface, it doesn’t look like anything’s out of place except in here. Itook a look through the desk ’link—nothing hinky. Same on the one in the second office.”
“I’m going to talk to the sweepers, do a pass through the main level. From the tablet, do we know what’s missing?”
“Yeah, it’s jewelry, emeralds and diamonds. Big-ass emeralds, a shitload of diamonds. Something called the Royal Suite, and worth like a quarter of a freaking billion. The expert says some more than that. Extreme wow on that. Anyway, we made you a copy of the data. Roarke’s got it.”
“Maybe that explains why they only took one thing. Grab that and leave. Except, the victim interrupted.”
She turned as the housekeeper stepped out, both evidence bags of bloody clothes in her hands.
“Ms. Carville’s nightclothes, Lieutenant.” She handed her the one in her right hand. “And Ms. Barrister’s. Do you want mine? Some blood transferred when I…”
