In Death 23 - Born in Death

wife until the following morning when I left for the office. At seven-thirty.”
    “Names, please? Grandson and his friend.”
    “His name is mine. He was named for me. His friend is Rochelle DeLay.”
    “Thank you. Mr. Myers?”
    “I was entertaining out-of-town clients—Mr. and Mrs. Helbringer from Frankfurt, their son and daughter-in-law—until sometime after one A . M . We were at the Rainbow Room.” He smiled wanly. “And, naturally, I have the receipts. My wife and I returned home, went to bed just before two, I believe. I left for work the next day about eight-thirty.”
    “And how can I contact your clients?”
    “Oh, God.” He pushed a hand through his hair. “I suppose you must. They’re staying at the Palace. Your husband’s, I believe.”
    “Small world. And Mr. Kraus.”
    “Also entertaining clients with my wife, in my home. Madeline Bullock, and her son Winfield Chase, of the Bullock Foundation. They were our guests for a couple of days while they were in New York. We had dinner and played cards. Until about midnight, I believe.”
    “I’ll need to contact them.”
    “They’re traveling. I believe they’re making a stop or two on their way back to London, where the Foundation is based.”
    So, she’d track them down.
    “Mr. Kraus has stated that neither of the victims approached him with any questions or any problems pertaining to their jobs, or their personal lives. Did they approach either of you?”
    “No.” Sloan said it flatly.
    “I spoke with Bick a few days before this happened,” Myers began. “Regarding the execution of a trust fund for a client’s new grandchild. He never mentioned a problem.”
    “Thank you. It may be necessary for me to speak with all of you again, and will certainly be necessary for me to interview the supervisors and associates of the victims in this matter.”
    “Gentlemen, would you excuse us.” Sloan lifted a hand. “I’d like a word with Lieutenant Dallas in private.”
    “Jacob,” Kraus began.
    “I don’t need legal counsel, for God’s sake, Robert. Leave us alone.”
    When they were, Sloan pushed away from the table, walked to the wall of glass. “I liked that girl.”
    “Excuse me?”
    “Natalie. I liked her. Fresh, bright, had a spark in her. She was friendly with my grandson. Friendly,” Sloan repeated as he turned. “They worked in the same department. Her department head was about to put her up for promotion. She would have gotten it. I spoke with her parents this morning. You think there’s no compassion here? No sympathy? There’s more.”
    Those thin hands fisted. “There’s rage. This firm is a home to me. I built it. Someone came into my home and killed two of my people. I want you to find the bastard. But if, in the course of your investigation, confidential data regarding clients of this firm leaks, I’ll have your job.”
    “Then we understand each other, Mr. Sloan. As long as you understand that if, during the course of my investigation, I learn that you had any part—directly, indirectly—in those murders, I’ll have you in a cage.”
    He crossed to her, and this time, held out his hand. “Then we have a perfect understanding.”

6
    EVE FOUND PEABODY AND THE REST OF THE team finishing up in Byson’s office.
    “McNab, I want you to go with the officers to transport all these items to Central. I want you with the boxes and their contents every step of the way. You personally log them in. And lock them up—conference room five. I’ve cleared that with the commander. Take the electronics directly to Feeney.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Those electronics are to be logged a second time into EDD, with your code and with Feeney’s.”
    He lifted his brows. “We got national security in here?”
    “We’ve got our asses in there, so if you don’t want yours in a sling, log and document every step. Peabody, you and I are going to get some statements from associates. You take this department, and Byson’s people. Do another round with his supervisor. I’ll take Copperfield’s.”
    She started out. “Every step of the way, McNab,” she repeated, then took the elevator to Natalie’s department. She knew just where she wanted to start.
    “I need to speak with Jacob Sloan, the grandson.”
    This time around the receptionist didn’t hesitate, but simply beeped an interoffice ’link. “Jake? A Lieutenant Dallas would like to speak with you. Of course.”
    “Third door, left,” Eve was told. “Excuse