In Death 23 - Born in Death

and clipped out into reception on ice-pick heels.
    “You’re the police?” she demanded and shot an accusing finger at Eve.
    “Lieutenant Dallas, Detective Peabody. You’re Greene?”
    “That’s right, and you’ve just pulled me out of an important meeting. If my son’s hooked school again, I’ll deal with him. I don’t appreciate the cops coming to my office.”
    “We’re not here about your son. We’re here about Natalie Copperfield, and if you’d prefer, you can come to my office. Now.”
    The irritation shifted immediately to wariness. “What about Natalie? You’re not going to tell me she’s in any trouble. She’d never break the law.”
    “Can we take this into your office, Ms. Greene?”
    The expression changed again, and this time there were hints of fear in bottle-green eyes. “Something happened to her? Was there an accident? Is she all right?”
    “Your office would be best.”
    “Come with me.” Moving fast, Cara skirted around the reception desk, through a pair of glass doors that swished open on her approach. She kept up the brisk pace, past a jungle of cubes where the drones slaved away, past offices where accountants crunched their numbers, to the corner office that suited her position.
    She shut the door behind them, turned to Eve. “Tell me fast. Please.”
    “Ms. Copperfield was murdered early this morning.”
    Her breath hitched, a quick in and out before she held up a hand. She moved, not so briskly now, to a refreshment station along one wall, pulled out a bottle of chilled water. And sank to a chair without opening it.
    “How? How? I don’t understand. I should have known something was wrong when she called in sick yesterday and didn’t make this meeting this morning. I should have known. I was so mad at her. This meeting…” She held up her hand again. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. It’s such a shock.”
    Before Eve could speak, she lurched to her feet. “Oh, God, Bick. Her fiancé. Does he know? She’s engaged to one of the vp’s in personal finance. He should be upstairs. Oh, God. They’re getting married in May.”
    “She worked for you directly?”
    “She’s one of my senior account execs and on a fast track. She’s good. I mean…Oh, God, oh, God, she was good. Excellent. Personable, smart, hard-working. I planned to promote her, offer her a vp slot.”
    “You were friends,” Peabody put in.
    “Yes. Not best pals. I have to keep some distance being her boss, but yes.” Closing her eyes, she pressed the chilled bottle to her forehead. “We were very friendly. I can’t believe this is happening.”
    “Why don’t you tell us where you were between midnight and four this morning.”
    “You don’t think…” Cara sat again, and this time she opened the water bottle and drank. “I was home, with my husband and our twelve-year-old son. My husband and I went to bed just after midnight. God, how was she killed?”
    “We’re not releasing the details of that at this time. Since you were friendly, and you were in a position of authority, did she say anything to you about being worried or bothered? Threatened?”
    “No. No. No. I’d say she seemed a little off the past couple of weeks, but I put that down to distraction. Wedding plans. She’d have told Bick if someone was bothering her. She told him everything.”
    Yeah, Eve thought, most likely she did. And that’s why he was dead.
    “What was she working on?”
    “She had several accounts, heads quite a number and is on teams that hold others.”
    “We’re going to need a list of all her accounts, and we’ll need to see her files.”
    “I can’t do that. I can’t. We have to protect our clients’ privacy. We’d be sued up the butt if I turned confidential files over to the police.”
    “We’ll get a warrant.”
    “Please do. I mean that, sincerely. Please get a warrant and I’ll personally see that you have any and all data the law demands. I need to contact Mr. Kraus,” she continued as she got back to her feet. “I need to tell him what’s going on. What’s happened. And Bick. You’ll need to talk to Bick.”
    “Bick Byson was also murdered early this morning.”
    She lost all of her color, every drop of it. “I—I can’t think. I don’t know what to say. This is horrible.”
    “I’m sorry. I understand it’s a shock. We need to speak with Mr. Byson’s supervisor.”
    “Um, that’s—oh, God, I can’t think. Myra. Myra Lovitz. I can contact her for