In Death 23 - Born in Death

courtesy before you held my investigation hostage for more than twenty-four hours.” Eve headed off in the direction she and Peabody had taken the day before.
    “Privacy matters,” the woman began as she quickened her pace to match Eve’s stride.
    “Yeah, so does murder. You bogged me up. Kraus wants to talk to me, he can talk while we’re getting the files and electronics.” She swung into Natalie’s office. “This warrant authorizes me to confiscate any and all data, disc, and hard copy, any and all files, notes, communications, personal property—hell, let’s cut it down. I’m authorized to take everything inside this room. Let’s load it up,” she said to Peabody and McNab.
    “Our client files are highly sensitive.”
    In a flash, Eve rounded on her. “You know what else is sensitive? The human body. You want to see what was done to Natalie Copperfield’s?” Eve made a move to reach into her file bag.
    “No, I don’t. And we’re very distressed about what happened to Ms. Copperfield and Mr. Byson. We’re very sympathetic to their families.”
    “Yeah, I slapped up against your distress and sympathy a few times yesterday.” Eve pulled open a desk drawer.
    “Lieutenant Dallas.”
    The man who entered was well turned-out, middle fifties in a stone-gray suit and blinding white shirt. He had a prominent nose and dark eyes in a strong face with an olive complexion. His hair was ink black, brushed back in waves that made wings out of the silver he’d either let come into his temples or had put there for effect.
    She recognized him from the ID shot she’d accessed as Robert Kraus.
    “Mr. Kraus.”
    “I wonder if I could impose on you for a short time. If your associates could continue to deal with this business, my partners and I would like to speak with you in our conference room.”
    “We’ve got Byson’s office to do next.”
    He looked just a little pained, but nodded. “Understood. We’ll try not to keep you long.”
    Eve turned to Peabody. “Everything. Boxed and labeled. Uniforms to transport if I’m not back before you’re done. I’ll find you.”
    “First let me apologize for the delay,” Kraus began as he gestured Eve into the corridor. “Ethically and legally we’re obliged to protect our clients.”
    “Ethically and legally I’m obliged to protect the rights of the victims.”
    “Understood.” He walked past the bank of office elevators to a private car. “I knew both Natalie and Bick, and they had both my professional and personal respect. Kraus to sixty-five,” he said into the speaker.
    “Did either of them speak with you about a potential problem, personal or professional?”
    “No. But it would have been highly unusual for either of them to do so, certainly if it was personal. If there was a problem or question with one of their accounts, they would have gone to their department head, who—if necessary—would have reported to me or one of the other partners. Certainly, the partners would expect a report or memo on such a circumstance, even if it was resolved.”
    “And did you receive such a report or memo?”
    “No, I did not. I’m puzzled why you believe or suspect that what happened to them has anything to do with Sloan, Myers, and Kraus.”
    “I haven’t told you what I believe or suspect,” Eve said evenly. “Investigating all areas of their lives, their movements, their communications, is standard and routine.”
    “Of course.”
    The car stopped, and once again he gestured Eve ahead of him.
    Here was the power center, she realized. As was so often the case, power—like heat—rose to the top.
    A wall of glass with a pale gold sheen let in the city with a gilded light that made statements of industry and wealth. Plush carpeting of deep red was bordered with dark, thick wood. There was no reception area here, no waiting alcove. Eve imagined any client worthy of this floor would never be expected to check in or cool heels.
    Instead there was a seating area of lush sofas, thick tables, obviously arranged for informal or personal chats. It boasted a small, stylish bar where she assumed the tony clients could request their drink of choice.
    Space and silence were the watchwords here. Office doors were few and distant, and all were dominated by an inner wall of that golden glass. Kraus escorted her over to the wall, subtly waving a hand in front of a small security eye. Glass whisked open to reveal the large conference room behind it.
    With the