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“McNab said there was some work stuff on her home unit.”
“Is that so?” Eve smiled. “Take it. The warrant covers it. Have him make copies of everything. I want you and Santiago to go have a chat with a Sasha Kirby, designer with City Style. She designed the crime scene, so to speak, and had access.” She checked the time, calculated. “After, I’ve got some alibis for you to run down.”
“You got it.”
Eve clicked off. “Peabody, contact Yung and tell her the residence is clear. See if you can get any kind of ETA on the warrant. We got a little break here,” she murmured. “Could be something relevant on her home unit. Could be.”
•••
It was the day for penthouses and the Upper East Side, Eve decided. This time she had no choice but to wade through security, cool heels in the gold and white lobby jammed with flowering plants. As she’d figured on a hassle, she only lifted her eyebrows when security politely cleared her.
“I figured Mobsley would tell us to stick it,” Eve said as they rode up.
“Maybe she’s curious. Or guilty. According to the gossip channel she’s always doing something.”
“Which is why the expected stick it.”
With a shrug, Eve stepped off into a foyer done in sapphire blue and emerald green. More flowers, this time in tall white vases, flanked by candles as tall as she was.
A man in unrelieved black with white-blond hair and nearly as many earrings as McNab stepped out of wide blue doors.
“Please come in. Candida will be with you shortly. We’re serving catnip tea today.”
“We’ll pass on that.”
“I’d be happy to prepare another choice.” He gestured them into a huge space that looked like a small palace under a snowstorm. Every inch was white—sofas, tables, rugs, lamps, pillows. The only spot of color came from the white-framed portrait—their hostess reclining naked on a white bed. Her endless tumble of blonde hair and deeply red lips jumped out of the canvas.
Even the curtains on the wall of windows were filmy white so the city beyond seemed to float on clouds.
But not, in Eve’s mind, in a good way.
Something moved in the snowbank. She realized a huge white cat, its eyes blinking vivid green, stretched on some sort of divan. It watched them while its tail flicked lazily.
She liked cats. She had her own. But this one, like the room, like the filmed windows, gave her the creeps.
“We’re fasting today, so I can’t offer you food. Or caffeine, but we have some lovely water, harvested from snowmelt in the Andes.”
“That’d be great,” Peabody said before Eve could decline for both of them.
“Please be at home.”
“I’d like to see what water from snowmelt in the Andes tastes like,” Peabody said when he left them.
“I bet it tastes like water. Who could live in this place?”
“It’s sort of giving me a headache. It hurts my eyes, and I have to keep blinking to see where things actually are. Oh Jesus, that’s not a pussycat.”
“Huh?” Eve glanced back. No, not just a cat. A cat. Maybe a lion—small scale, but... Or a tiger, or—
“A white panther cub.”
Candida, draped in a white sweater, snug white pants, white diamonds in a hard sparkle, glided in on bare feet. Her hair tumbled around a face as beautiful and as hard as her diamonds.
“Delilah.” She stroked a hand over the cub as she passed by. “Is Aston getting your tea?”
“Water,” Eve corrected. “We appreciate you taking the time to speak with us.”
“Oh well.” She laughed, waved a hand, then curled up on a curvy white sofa, all but disappeared into it. “I spend a lot of time talking to the police, or my lawyers do. I know who you are, and I’m interested. I thought you’d be older.”
