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They walked up the steps and, with their backs to the target, pressed the buzzer.
13
Roarke shifted his body to block any possible view from the adjoining duplex when Eve palmed her badge.
“First trick is to get them to open the door, fast. After that, just move in. We’ll deal with the rest inside.”
She didn’t need a trick, as the door opened.
The man, mid-thirties, wearing a gray Mets sweatshirt and jeans with holes in the knees, frowned at the badge.
“What?”
“Hey, Philippe!” With a blast of a smile, Eve moved forward. Roarke closed the door at their backs.
“Wait just a—”
“There’s trouble next door. I’m Lieutenant Dallas, NYPSD, and this is my consultant. I need you to call Jan—just call her from wherever she is.”
“But I want to know—”
“Philippe,” Roarke said in a smooth, easy tone. “The quicker you follow the lieutenant’s instructions, the quicker we’ll explain. How’s your soundproofing?”
“Our—well, we’re working on it. Why—”
“I see you’re doing some renovations,” Roarke continued in that same conversational tone, then glanced at Eve. “Handy.”
“Yeah, should be. Call her, get her down here.” As she spoke, Eve stripped off the pink coat because it made her feel like an idiot, tossed it on a seriously old-fashioned hall rack someone had painted bright blue.
“Let me see that badge again.”
Eve held it closer, waited while he studied it, and her. And, still watching her, he shouted out, “Jan! Come on down here.”
“Phil, I’m in the middle of—”
“Come on, Jan.”
Moments later a tall woman in paint-splattered overalls, blond hair bundled up under a Yankees cap appeared. A mop head of white scurried down after her, yipping all the way. “I was just putting another coat of— Oh, sorry. I didn’t know there was anyone here.”
“They’re the cops.”
“The—”
Jan stopped when Eve put a finger to her lips, then scooped up what had to be a dog, continued down the stairs.
“Let’s take this back there.” Eve gestured. “Have you got a music system? How about you put on some music, like you would when friends come over. There’s trouble next door,” she repeated. “You share a wall, and your soundproofing’s iffy. Put on some music, we’ll go in the back, and I’ll tell you what’s going on.”
As the dog wiggled to get down, Jan groped for Philippe’s hand. “Behave, Lucy! I told you something was off with the new people, Phil. What did they— Okay.” She shook her head, sucked in some air. “Let’s go back to the lounge. You won’t believe how great it looks now.”
Eve gave her a nod of approval. “Can’t wait to see it.”
“Put on some tunes, Phil, and let’s crack that wine. I don’t know how much they can hear over there,” Jan said quietly as they headed back, past dingy walls, spaces where dingy walls had obviously been torn down. “We can sort of hear them—their screen noises, and on the third floor some thumping around. That’s where our workshop is, so we spend a lot of time up there.”
When they reached what Jan called the lounge, Eve noted it was pretty great. They’d transformed the space into a cozy, retro-style kitchen with warm gray counters and a lot of plants thriving under dull silver gro-lights. It spread into a lounge space with big cushy furniture, floor pillows, funky lamps on one side, and a long table with eight mismatched chairs under a trio of wire balls that served as pendant lights.
In the corner sat another pillow with three short sides, and a bone-shaped toy in fluorescent blue.
“Isn’t this charming.”
