In Death 31 - Indulgence in Death

Urich’s ballpark.
    His shoes were as black and shiny as his desk, and sported no silver trim.
    He took Eve’s hand, a firm grip, soft skin, and held it two flirtatious seconds after the shake.
    “Lieutenant Dallas. I hoped we’d meet, but under different circumstances. I hope Roarke is well.”
    “Yeah, he’s good.”
    “And Detective Peabody, a pleasure.” He took her hand. “I recently finished Nadine Furst’s book. I feel I know both of you. Please sit down. Black coffee,” he said as Marissa lifted a tray, “coffee regular.” He tapped the side of his head. “Those details from the book stick. Thanks, Marissa. We’ll let you know if we need anything else.”
    He sat on one of the wide chairs, laid his forearms on the wide arms. “I know you’re here about the murder of the driver, and our own Augustus Sweet. It’s very distressing. What can I do to help?”
    “You can tell me where you were on the night in question.”
    His eyes widened, briefly, then lit with fun. “Really? I’m a suspect?”
    “It’s routine, Mr. Dudley—”
    “Please, Winnie.”
    “It’s routine, and just helps us cross things off the list.”
    “Of course. I was at a dinner party with a number of friends in Greenwich—Connecticut, that is. I believe my date and I arrived at just before eight, and left around midnight. I’ll have Marissa give you the names and location. Will that do?”
    “Works for me. How’d you get there?”
    “My driver. I have a private car and driver. I’ll get you that information as well.”
    “Good enough.” She walked him through a few standard questions—did he know the victim, had he used their services, tossed in a few more relating to Sweet.
    “I have to tell you we’ve just arrested and charged two of your employees.”
    “Good God, for the murder? Who—”
    “No, on an unrelated matter. Mitchell Sykes and Karolea Prinz. They’ve been skimming some of your products, selling them.”
    He sat back, arranged his face into sober lines. “I’d like more information on this. It’s very upsetting. This shouldn’t have been possible. Obviously, I need to have meetings with my department heads, Security, Inventory. I owe you a debt.”
    “No, we did our job. Another unrelated matter, just crossing off. Are you acquainted with Sylvester Moriarity?”
    “Sly? Yes. He’s a good friend of mine. Why?”
    “Just covering bases. Was he at this dinner party?”
    “No. He’s not particularly friendly with the hosts, and it was a close-knit group.”
    “Okay. Thanks for the time, the coffee.” She got to her feet, smiled as he rose. “Oh, just to tidy up. How about last night? Can you tell me where you were?”
    “Yes. I had drinks with a friend about five, then went home. I wanted a quiet evening, and very much wanted to finish the book. The Icove case. Just fascinating.”
    “So, nobody came by?”
    “No.”
    “Did you talk to anyone?”
    “Just the opposite. It was one of those nights I wanted to myself. I’m curious as to why you’d want to know?”
    “I’m nosy. Part of being a cop. Thanks again.”
    “You’re more than welcome, both of you. Let me walk you out, and have Marissa get you the information you need. I hope we’ll see each other again, when it’s not work related.”
    Marissa had the data at her fingertips—almost, Eve thought, as if she’d been told to have it there. In the elevator, Eve shook her head before Peabody could speak.
    “Good coffee.”
    “Ah, yeah.”
    “It helps when you get that kind of cooperation.” Eve leaned negligently against the side wall. “Saves time. I want you to check out the driver, and the dinner party, just so we can put it aside. We have to log it in, even though it’s obvious he didn’t book that limo or kill Houston. So . . . what’re you and McNab up to tonight?”
    Peabody’s mouth dropped open in shock. “Ah, well, we thought we might catch a vid unless we’re on OT.”
    “Probably wrap up shift on time.”
    She moved across the lobby, outside. She didn’t speak again until she was behind the wheel and driving away.
    “Slick bastard.”
    “Yeah, I was going to say—”
    “And if that elevator isn’t monitored, eyes and ears, I’m having an affair with Summerset.”
    “You’re—oh. Damn, sure it is.”
    “Lobby might be, too.”
    “You didn’t really want to know what McNab and I were doing tonight?”
    “Why the hell would I care? He’s slick,” she repeated.
    “He is, but he