In Death 23 - Born in Death

piranha who worked with him.”
    “Which piranha would that be?”
    “Lilah Grove. Quinn—she’s an assistant down there—she says Ms. Grove’s flirting with Mr. Byson every chance, asking him to come into her office and help her out, discuss clients over coffee or lunch.”
    Sarajane managed an expression between a scowl and a sneer. “Got her sights on him, you know? Guys can fall for that crap. I even told Natalie about it. She was my boss, right? So I told her, but she just laughed it off.”
    “Okay. Do you know if Natalie made any appointments to talk to one of the brass around here? If she intended to have a meeting with any of them?”
    “Didn’t ask me to set anything up. Um, you cops have mostly taken all my work stuff. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”
    “Couldn’t tell you.”
    Eve finished up with Cara Greene, stepping to the office doorway just as the woman was popping a tiny blue pill.
    “Blocker,” she said. “Vicious headache. It’s a completely horrible day.”
    “Do you know why Natalie logged back into the office unit after working hours?”
    “No.” Cara frowned. “We all work late, and this time of year we’ve revved up into tax season. But…I’ve certainly known Natalie to work late, to stay at her desk for a couple of hours after end of business. And we won’t even talk about the four weeks before April fifteen when most of us just live here. But it wasn’t her usual routine to go then come back.
    “Do you want to sit? I need to sit. I’m not feeling very well.” She lowered to a chair. “Fielding frantic or angry calls from clients abouttheir accounts being pawed over by the police is very unpleasant. Trying to play mother to the staff here when they come by to cry on my shoulder about Natalie, or allay their fears that something might happen to them. And trying to think, to think if you’re right and this horrible thing has anything to do with her work, what I missed. What I should know.”
    “And nothing comes to mind.”
    “Nothing does. I have to think it was some sort of personal business. Someone who wanted to hurt them, was jealous or angry. I don’t know.”
    “Was there jealousy here in the office?”
    “A sense of competition, certainly. And certainly not everyone is best friends. But I honestly can’t think of anyone who held a grudge or genuinely bad thoughts about Natalie.”
    “Do you know Lilah Grove?”
    “The Femme Fatale of Individual Accounts.” Cara’s lips curved in a little smile. “And, yes, I’ve heard the gossip that she was overly friendly with Bick. It didn’t worry Natalie, and I never heard anything about Lilah and Natalie arguing or even having strong words.”
    Maybe they saved them for end of business, Eve thought as she went down to meet Peabody.
    “Did you get a statement from a Lilah Grove?”
    “What is this, a sixth sense thing?” Peabody demanded. “She was the first I was going to brief you on.”
    “Department’s sex queen. Hit on Byson. What’s your take on her?”
    “A little hard, with a very sharp edge. Vain, ambitious. Likes to flaunt both. Claimed the flirtation was mutual and harmless and expressed disgust and annoyance—both seemed false—that anyone in her department of the firm would gossip about her that way. Watered up a few times when talking about the vics, but never smeared her enhancements—which appear to be expertly applied and really pricey. She wears Do Me.”
    “What?”
    “It’s perfume. The real thing, not the off-brand or the cheaper eau de whatever. I like to go in and get sprayed with it when I troll the higher-end department stores.”
    “You’re the one?”
    “The one what?”
    “The one person in the known universe who likes to get sprayed by those spritz guerrillas.”
    Peabody stiffened her shoulders, lifted her head high. “We are more than one. We are a small, yet sweet-smelling army.”
    “Yeah, I bet Do Me smells like a sweet, sunny meadow. I’m going to do a quick follow-up with Grove before we head back.”
    “Second office, right.”
    “I’ll do it solo. Check in with McNab.”
    “Yes, sir. And, Dallas?” Peabody’s smile was sly. “When I wear Do me, he does.” She strolled off, whistling.
    “Asked for that one,” Eve mumbled.
    The door to the office was open. Eve saw a blonde with long, sleek waves, tipped back in a caramel-colored leather chair, examining her manicure as she talked on a headset.
    There were flowers in the office,