“I don’t want the details, at least not now. My head might explode. Just, first, is that the only other thing you stole that’s in that vault? And second, did it all work the same as the emeralds?”
“Yes and yes.”
“Okay. For now anyway, we’re going to put that aside. Not away, Roarke, aside. If I hit on something that feels like it could flip in that direction, in your direction, we’ll figure out what’s next.”
“And if I do, I’ll tell you. I’ll share with you anything I find out. This will make a splash in the media, but it will also have a considerable impact in other circles.”
“You need to be careful with your own shovel, pal.” She rose. “Whoever did this didn’t hesitate to kill.”
“And whoever did this has very likely already turned over the goods, collected the fee, and enjoyed a lovely afterglow.”
“Not everyone’s as slick as you.”
She went into her closet. Because she refused to think about clothes, she grabbed black trousers, a black tee, a black jacket, belt, and boots. And the weapon harness she’d hung in her closet the evening before.
“No cracks about funerals,” she said as she came out. “I need easy today.”
Now he rose, stepped to her, drew her in. “And I’ve made it harder than it has to be.”
“Not you, not really. It just is harder than it has to be. Orstickier’s the better word.
“I need to write it up, set up my board and book. Structure makes it easier, too.”
“I’ll set up your board. You.” He pointed at the cat wandering innocently toward the plates. “Out.” To make sure of it, he hauled the graypudge up in one arm, and after stepping out with Eve, closed the bedroom door.
“And I know, yes, he might just figure out a way to open the door and get what he wants.” He used a thumb to scratch under Galahad’s chin and made him purr. “He might’ve been a grand associate back in my before.”
“You did have associates in your before.”
“I did, yes, now and then. But none in the jobs that apply here.”
She really did need to put it aside, Eve reminded herself. She needed to focus on this time, this investigation.
When they turned into her office, Roarke put the cat down, and she went straight to her command center.
“I haven’t downloaded the scene from my recorder.”
“I’ll handle it. I know what you’ll want on the board. If I miss anything, you won’t.”
After she opened operations, he worked on the auxiliary.
It gave her time to write up her report, to start the murder book, and then to do a full run on the victim.
Nathan Barrister had done well for himself—up until a few minutes before one that morning. The only son of a wealthy man, he’d had the best education money could buy—and from the looks of it, brains and application had carried. He got his MBA from Harvard—so his oldest daughter continued that university tradition.
He’d joined the business as a VP at twenty-four—after spending the best part of a year traveling after grad school.
He’d cohabbed with his future wife in the same condo his sister now owned. Married at twenty-five. They’d moved to a house in Brooklyn— if her math was on target—when they expected their first child.
They owned a second home in the Hamptons, a flat in Prague, and some sort of cabin in Maine.
Before the bequests in his father’s will added to it.
His wife’s business, launched while they lived on the Upper East, hadearned a solid rep by the time they’d moved to Brooklyn and started a family.
He’d been COO of Zip Global by forty.
No criminal, no addictions that showed.
