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“That’s what you’ve got. Sixty seconds. From right now.” She lifted her arm, deliberately consulting her wrist unit as Hank opened the doors, slipped inside.
Then she drew a deep breath. “Why are people so bitchy to cops?”
“I can’t imagine, but now I actively crave spaghetti.”
“We’ll get there.” She turned around as the doors opened again on the thirty second mark.
“If you’ll come in, Mrs. Mira will be right with you.”
“Fine. She’s got about twenty-five seconds left.”
“Lieutenant,” he began, looking relieved when he was interrupted by the quick click of heels.
Mandy Mira was a tall, impressive-looking woman with a statuesque figure and a gilded swing of hair. It fascinated Eve that one side stopped at the ear while the other curved at her chin.
Eyes, coldly blue under a sweep of deep brown eyebrows, managed to convey annoyance and boredom.
“What is this nonsense? I’m not accustomed to having the police at my door, and don’t appreciate you using some wild fabrication of an attack to worm your way in.”
“Have you spoken to your husband in the last couple hours, Mrs. Mira?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“Okay, sorry for the worming in.” Eve turned to go.
“I demand to know what this is about!”
“This is about investigating a reported attack on Edward Mira and the fact that he subsequently went missing.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Then you can contact him right now, prove that, and we’ll be out of your hair with sincere apologies for the interruption to your evening.”
“Hank!” She actually snapped her fingers. “Contact Senator Mira.”
“Ma’am, I’ve attempted to do so, on all numbers. I can’t reach him.”
“Give me that thing.” She snatched Hank’s ’link out of his hand, strode off with it on sky-high, sky-blue heels.
“Wow, she must be a joy to work for,” Eve commented.
She stuck her hands in her pockets, took a measure of the living space.
A lot of chilly blues, selected, Eve deduced, because they matched Mandy Mira’s eyes. And everything slick and sleek and shiny.
Just as well they hadn’t been asked to sit, as every chair looked like an ass-bruiser.
Another huge display of white roses sitting on a glossy white piano—and white drapes framing the wall of glass leading to a terrace. By the time she’d gotten to the portrait of the senator and his wife over the unlit fireplace, Mandy’s outrage shot back at her.
“What do you mean you don’t know? You’re paid to know. If you want to continue to be paid, you’ll contact Senator Mira now. Is that understood?”
She stormed back, shoved the ’link at Hank. “The senator is currently incommunicado, which should be no concern of yours. However, I want an explanation. Why are you here, suggesting something has happened to him?”
“Are you aware your husband had an appointment today with a Realtor regarding his grandfather’s home?”
“I am.”
“Do you have the name and contact of said Realtor?”
