noted, a counter for an AC and a minifriggie. Contemporary art, a glossy black workstation, and a couple of visitors’ chairs in that energetic red.
“We’ve confirmed that Marta Dickenson was killed inside your apartment—”
“What? Inside?”
“It wasn’t a mugging. When’s the last time you were in the apartment?”
“I—” He sat down. “Day before yesterday. I went by to talk to the crew supervisor about a couple of details.”
“Name.”
“Jasper Milk. Milk and Sons Contractors. They’re third generation. They’re artists. And they’re reputable. They always secure the building. We have an alarm system.”
“Yes. I saw it. Who has the codes?”
“I do, Jasper. My partners. And, ah, the designer. Sasha Kirby. City Style. If this person broke in—”
“There’s no sign of a break-in.”
Eve watched his expression change, shift from puzzlement to understanding, then to stubborn denial.
“Listen, I trust, absolutely, everyone who has the code, who has access. I don’t see how anyone could have gotten inside my apartment.”
“Evidence doesn’t lie, Mr. Whitestone.”
“Maybe not, but it sure as hell doesn’t make any sense. That’s a brand-new system.”
“Brewer, Kyle, and Martini. Accounting firm, auditors. The victim worked for them, and there’s some cross between the clients of your firm and theirs.”
He no longer looked puzzled or stubborn, but slightly ill. “I don’t know that name offhand. I can have my admin check, but—if you tell me the clients we have in common—”
“Peabody.”
At the ready, Peabody reeled off the short list of cross-matches she’d already found.
“Those aren’t mine. I recognize Abner Wheeler. He’s one of Jake’s. And Blacksford Corporation, that’s one of Rob’s. Those I’m sure of, but to confirm any others, I’d need to check files, or talk to Rob and Jake.”
“We’re going to need to speak with your partners.”
“Absolutely. I don’t understand. Why would anyone use our new place to kill that woman?”
“Good question,” Eve responded.
WHITESTONE TOOK THEM INTO A SMALL CONFERENCE room, apologizing for its size and sparseness.
“It’s one of the reasons we invested in the new building. We need the space. We’ve been moving some things over here and there, so we’re in flux right now.”
“It’s no problem. Business must be good.”
“It is.” His face lit up. “We’ve been growing steadily, building a solid client base, a good reputation. And the building uptown has character, looks important. Perception’s reality in finance.”
“In a lot of things.”
“Let me hunt up Jake and Rob.”
“Before you do, why don’t you give me a little backstory. How long have you been partners?”
“Officially? We’re finishing our fifth year. Rob and I went to college together. We invested in our first property our first year of grad school, this dumpy little retail space on the Lower West Side.”
He relaxed as he spoke, and nostalgia clung to the edges of his tone. “His idea, and he had to talk me into it. I like money,” he said with a grin, “I like the deal, calculating risk and reward, and I was cautious about investing in a little commercial space. Rob wouldn’t give up until I threw in with him. Best decision I ever made, because it jump-started us as a team. We worked like dogs on that place, did most of the work ourselves, and I learned a lot about sweat equity. When we flipped it, made a nice profit, we dumped most of that profit in the market, as partners, played the market together, made some more.”
“It sounds like you worked well together.”
“We did, and do. After college I went to work for Prime Financial, and he worked for Allied, but we’d get together and talk about forming our own company. Rob met Jake at Allied, and the three of us just clicked. The three of us bought another place together. Once we turned it, we had what we called the WIN investment fund. We started this place with it. Jake’s uncle—he’s the Ingersol in Ingersol-Williams Corp—gave us one of his subsidiaries to manage, and my father let us take over the management of a small lead trust and we were off and running.”
“It’s good to work with friends,” Eve said simply. “If you can find yours, we’ll get this done and out of your way.”
“Give me a minute. Oh, help yourself to coffee or whatever. The coffee’s good here.”
Maybe, Eve thought, and decided to check it out by programming a cup for herself and one for Peabody. “He’s enthusiastic,” Eve commented.
“Yeah, but if you’re not excited about your work, life’s crap.”
“He also doesn’t strike me as a moron, which he’d have to be if he arranged or took part