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“No. Nothing.”
“Any money problems?”
“No. We have a good life, the business has given us a good life. We like the work—that’s why he still drives, why I keep the books. He’s always wanted to be his own boss, and the business is everything we wanted. He’s proud of what we’ve all built. We have two children in college, but we planned for it, so . . . the children. What will I tell the children?”
“Where are your children, Mrs. Houston?”
“Benji’s taking summer classes. He’s going to be a lawyer. He’ll be our lawyer. Lea’s at the beach for a couple days with friends. What should I tell them?” She turned to weep on Kimmy’s shoulder. “How can I tell them?”
Eve kept at it a while longer, but—for now at least—there was nothing here but shock and grief.
Stepping out into the drenching heat was a relief.
“Let’s check out the business financials, get a background on the partner and his wife, the rest of the employees. We’ll check this gym, verify his early-morning habit.”
“I’ve got it started. Doesn’t feel like it’s there,” Peabody commented. “They really do seem like family.”
“We closed a case recently where everybody was friends and partners with the dead guy.”
“Yeah.” Peabody sighed. “It can sure make you cynical.”
“Did you run this Augustus Sweet?”
“Yeah. He’s a senior VP, internal security, Dudley and Son, pharmaceuticals. Chrysler Building HQ.”
“Let’s go pay him a visit.”
5
DUDLEY AND SON SPREAD OVER FIVE PRIME floors of the landmark building, with its lobby areas done in what Eve thought of as swanky urban excess. The steel and glass counters meant that none of the half dozen working reception could forget to keep their knees together, while the polished silver wall behind them shot out reflections and shimmered with light zeroing in from a multitude of windows.
Weird glass sculptures hung from the ceiling over a high-gloss floor in unrelieved black.
Visitors could bide their time on long, backless benches padded with black gel cushions and watch a wall of screens hype the company’s self-proclaimed innovations and history.
Eve chose a receptionist who looked bored, and laid her badge on the glass counter. “Augustus Sweet.”
“Name, please.”
Eve laid a finger on the badge.
“One moment.” She danced her fingers on a screen behind the counter. “Mr. Sweet is in meetings until two. If you’d like to make an appointment, I’d be—”
Eve tapped her badge again. “That’s my appointment. You’re going to want to interrupt Mr. Sweet and tell him the cops are here. Oh, and one more thing? If you send his admin or some other minion out here to ask me what my business is, I’m going to take it the wrong way, and I’m going to take that wrong way out on you.”
“There’s no reason to get snippy.”
Eve merely smiled. “You haven’t seen snippy yet. Get Sweet, then we can both do our jobs.”
She got Sweet. It took nearly ten minutes, but he walked through a set of glass doors. He wore a dark suit, dark tie, and an expression that said he probably wasn’t a fun guy.
His hair, a pewter gray, was cut short and bristling around a tough, square-jawed face. His eyes, hard and blue, held Eve’s as he walked.
“I assume this is important enough to interrupt my schedule.”
“I think so, but then I rank murder pretty high on the list.”
She’d projected just enough to draw attention. Sweet’s jaw tightened as he turned, gave Eve an impatient come-with-me gesture, then strode back to the glass doors. She followed with Peabody down a wide hallway that opened into a secondary lobby. He turned, eating up the ground beyond offices to a corner space with an important desk ranged in front of an important view of the city.
