In Death 14 - Reunion in Death

So. What's the problem?"
    "You had a private shuttle run last night, to Denver, return this morning. Juliet Darcy."
    "I can verify the trip, but I can't discuss clients. That's a privacy issue."
    "You don't want to go all regulation on me here, Riggs, or you're not going to make your next run."
    "Look, lady-"
    "I'm not a lady, I'm a cop. And this is a police investigation. Your client went to Denver last night, ordered herself a nice late supper from room service, probably got a good night's sleep. This morning she killed a man named Spencer Campbell in her hotel room, took a cab back to the airport, hopped on your shuttle at which time you returned her to New York."
    "She-she killed somebody? Ms. Darcy? You can't be serious."
    "You want to see how serious I am? We can take this down to Central."
    "But she... I want to sit down." He did so, dropping into a wide black chair. "I think you must have the wrong woman. Ms. Darcy was charming and refined. She was just in Denver overnight to attend a charity function."
    Eve held out a hand. Peabody slapped a photo into it. "Is this the woman you know as Juliet Darcy?"
    It was a still taken from the disc found in Daily Enterprises and one that matched the image sent by hotel security.
    "Yes, that's... Jesus Christ." He took off his cap, raked his fingers through his hair. "This shakes you up."
    "I'm sure Spencer Campbell feels the same way." Eve took a seat. "Tell me about the trip."
    Once he'd decided to cooperate, she couldn't have stopped him with a laser blast. He paged the flight attendant to fill in any blanks and as a result Eve was given a full account of the round trip.
    "She was extremely polite." Riggs downed his second cup of coffee. "But friendly. I'd noted by the log that she'd insisted on being a solo. No other passengers coming or going. When she boarded, I thought she looked like someone famous. We get a lot of celebs, and minor celebs, who insist on solos but who don't want the trouble and expense of housing and maintaining a private transpo."
    "I didn't think she was friendly." The attendant, Lydia, sipped bottled water. She was already dressed for her flight, perfectly groomed in a navy jumpsuit with a military touch of gold braid.
    "What did you think she was?" Eve countered.
    "A snob. Not that she wasn't pleasant, but it was a veneer. There was a tone, mistress to servant, when she spoke to me. We offer caviar and champagne along with a fruit and cheese plate to our premier level passengers. She was a little put out by the brand of champagne. She said we could never hope to overtake Platinum or Five-Star in the ratings if we didn't upgrade our service."
    "Did she make or receive any transmissions during the flight?"
    "No. She did some work on her personal, turned it over so I couldn't see the screen-like I cared-when I came back into the cabin to offer her coffee before landing. She called me by name every time she spoke to me. Lydia, this, Lydia that. The way people do when they want you to think they're warm and friendly but that comes off as insulting somehow."
    "She seemed perfectly pleasant to me," Riggs cut in.
    "You're a man." Lydia managed to make the comment soothing and withering. And Eve decided she must be aces at her job.
    "How about the return this morning. What was her mood?"
    "Really up. Happy, sunny, relaxed. I figured she got laid the night before."
    "Lydia!"
    "Oh, Mason, you know you thought the same. She took the full breakfast: eggs Benedict, croissant, marmalade, berries, coffee. Ate like an athlete, and washed it down with two mimosas. Selected the classical music, and kept her privacy light on. I had the screen on the morning media reports, but she ordered it off. A little snippy on that, too. I guess we know why now. That poor man."
    "When she got off the shuttle, did she have ground transpo waiting?"
    "She went into the terminal. Struck me funny at the time." Lydia shook her head. "Somebody snobby like that usually has a car waiting in the private transpo area. But she went inside."
    And through the terminal, Eve thought, where she could go back out and catch any number of transportation options. Cab, bus, tram, private car, even the goddamn subway. And in effect, disappear.
    "Thanks. If you remember anything else, contact me at Cop Central."
    "I hope you get her." Lydia gave Eve a sympathetic look as she scanned her face. "Does that hurt?"
    ...
    Outside again, Eve rubbed her aching neck. "We'll head back to Central, see what