Damn right it would, so the ones running the show could afford to shell out a big pile of money to make it all work. Invest, say, a hundred million, rake in triple that if not more.
And no one involved, not a one, would give a single thought to the murder. Just another cost of doing business.
It boiled in her blood, kept her moving quickly so she arrived at Mira’s a few minutes early.
“You’re prompt today, Lieutenant.”
Mira’s guardian of the gates gave her one cool stare.
“I can wait if she’s not ready for me.”
“I’ll just check.” She tapped her earpiece. “Dr. Mira, Lieutenant Dallas is here. Yes, of course.”
Another tap. “You can go right in. Dr. Mira has a ten-forty-five and has yet to have a break this morning.”
“I won’t keep her any longer than I have to.”
She walked into the office, where Mira sat at her desk in a silky-looking suit the color of crushed raspberries. But it didn’t, to Eve’s eye, come off flashy.
She had her hair, with its subtle blond streaks over mink, in a kind of roll today. She’d added a single string of pearls and had pearl studs at her ears.
No, not flashy. Classy.
“Have a seat. Just let me…” Mira tapped keys, nodded. “There,done.” She looked up. The crushed-raspberry lips curved, the soft blue eyes smiled with it. “I love that jacket.”
“Oh, yeah. Thanks.”
Mira rose, walked to her AutoChef on raspberry-colored shoes with high, pearl-colored heels.
Eve always found it amazing.
“You’ve been busy,” Mira said as she programmed tea. “And all weekend.”
“Killers just don’t take weekends off.”
“No, they don’t. And the Royal Suite.”
“You’ve heard of it?”
“Yes. I remember when it was stolen—it has to be nearly twenty years ago. International news. A very daring heist. If I recall, the speculation was a gang of jewel thieves had planned it for months, if not years.”
Eve only said, “Mmm,” as Mira brought her the flowery tea.
“And only to be locked away for one man’s pleasure. Then stolen again. You believe the victim, and the family, and the staff, were unaware of the vault, what it held until after Henry Barrister’s death.”
“Evidence weighs on that side of the scale. I’ll talk to the estate lawyer later today. The family—wife, sister, two daughters—all state the victim contacted him. Not right away. They spent most of the summer researching every piece, and working out how best to protect themselves and the business. Not the best way to handle it, but it’s plausible.”
Mira crossed her legs, and in a way that also always amazed, balanced the delicate saucer on one knee.
“He was their father, their grandfather. And yes, the founder of the highly successful family business. If they truly didn’t know, it would’ve been an enormous shock.”
“I buy that. Why did he do it? Why risk everything, your reputation, your freedom, the business you built from the ground up, just to shove things into a vault?”
Leaning back in one of her scoop chairs, Mira sipped her tea. “A need to possess. The validation of it. He did build Zip from the ground up, taking substantial financial risks. He wasn’t born wealthy. He risked and pushed and worked to attain that wealth.”
“But it wasn’t enough.”
“No, and never would be. He could look in that vault and see what he felt he deserved, and it wouldn’t have been enough. The same with women. Having one, however beautiful, wasn’t enough. He needed more. He was a magpie.”
