“You need to work,” Eve said.
“I do. I want her to know I’m supporting us, using what I have to teach. Anyway, we have a routine, and she generally conks during the three o’clock class, then we bring some of her toys over so she can play during the next class. After that there’s dinner, and a walk to the park if the weather’s good or whatever we’re up for. Then I have an eight o’clock—the thirteen-to seventeen-year-old students. Tasha likes to dance with the kids, and they don’t mind. After that, I lock up, put her to bed. Sometimes that’s quick and easy, sometimes not.” She smiled a little. “Last night was quick and easy, so I had her down for the count about quarter after nine, took a shower. I had some wine, and started nodding off in front of the screen. So I went to bed.”
“Did you hear anything from upstairs, hear anyone come in or go out of the building? The stairs are loud,” Eve pointed out.
“Tell me about it. I invested in soundproofing for that exact reason. Do either of you have kids?”
“No.”
“Well, let me tell you, when you’ve walked the floor with a teething baby, finally get her to sleep, and somebody comes clanging up the damn stairs and wakes her up, you want to murder them.”
She jerked back. “I didn’t actually mean—”
“We get it,” Peabody assured her.
“The landlord wouldn’t spring for soundproofing, but told me if I wanted to spend the money on it, go ahead. Actually, my parents paid for it. They live upstate.”
“What do you know about Ms. Byrd’s friends, her romantic relationships?”
“Oh, not much, if anything. I know she had students on Tuesday and Wednesday evenings, and every other Saturday afternoon. If I had a class or was going in or out of the building, I’d see them coming in. She never talked to me about anyone she was seeing.”
Again, she shook her head. “I lit that candle for her. Silly, I guess, but I wanted to … If I’d made more time, put more effort into getting to know her, I might be able to help now.”
“You have helped,” Peabody told her.
“Part of me wants to shut everything down and run back upstate. I’ve lived in the city since I was seventeen and had a chance to study with the Company. I had dreams of being a prima ballerina. I made it to principal,” she said with a smile. “And then there was Tasha. I don’t regret for a single second choosing her over that dream. She is the dream. And this is the first time I’ve even thought about leaving. Can’t do it.”
She lifted her hands, let them fall. “We’ve made our life here, and it’s a good one. But I hope to God you find who did this to Ariel, not only so I can sleep at night, but because she didn’t deserve this. What I knew of her was she was a good person, a talented artist, and a considerate neighbor.”
Outside, as they walked back to the car, Peabody slipped her hands into her pretty pink coat because, to her thinking, it made it more of a stroll.
“Parenting’s hard,” she commented. “Single parenting without the other parent involved has to be brutal. But that was a happy apartment. You could feel it.”
“It’ll be happier when we find out who killed her neighbor.”
“Yeah, there’s that.”
“What do we know, Peabody?”
“Dead woman, attacked from behind, who, by all appearances had wine and sex prior to the attack. EDD will confirm if the lock was compromised, as visual exam leans no.”
They replaced the field kits, got back in the car.
“We know the TOD, the probable COD. We know, because Brownstone comes off honest and credible, the vic was private about her private life, serious about her work. Supplemented her income by teaching two or three times a week, and was careless with her security.”
“We know,” Eve added, “that the vic’s lover or lovers was or were discreet enough Brownstone can’t confirm she had any. Potentially one or more of her students. Stay after class, have a roll, head out. She’ll have the schedule and a list of students on her comp. Have EDD copy us there.”
As she drove, Eve called in for the name of the nine-one-one caller, and a copy of the recording.
“Gwendolyn Huffman.”
“The same person who texted her yesterday afternoon.”
Considering, Eve tapped her fingers on the wheel. “Isn’t that handy? Let’s hear the call.”
Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?
Oh, God, oh God, she’s dead! She’s dead. There was blood.
Ariel! It’s Ariel. You need to help, send help.
Over the calm, clear voice of the nine-one-one operator, the hysteria rose only higher as the caller spewed out the address.
Hurry, hurry, please hurry. God, God, I’m going to be sick.
The transmission ended.
“Never gave her name,” Eve said. “They got it from the ’link number.”
“She sounded hysterical, start to finish.”
“If she actually saw the body in the West Village, dropped the morning takeout, then went all the way home to the Upper East Side, she had time to bank that down a little. And if she didn’t see the body, how the hell did she know? Let’s see if she’s taken the time to work out the answers.”
The building on the Upper East Side rose high and sleek, steel and glass with the curve of generous terraces on the top floors. On the street, two doormen in silver-trimmed black flanked the wide glass entrance.
Neither of them looked pleased to see Eve’s deceptively unstylish DLE pull to the curb.
As the one on the left approached, Eve got out of the car, flipped up her badge.
“Leave it where I put it.”
“Ma’am—”
She jabbed a finger at him, then at her badge. “Does this say ma’am? No, it does not. It’s says Lieutenant. It says NYPSD. Leave my ride where I put it.”
She strode past him, across the sidewalk, and through the glass that whisked open when she approached—and made her wonder why the hell they needed doormen.
They walked into what Eve thought of as obsessive elegance. Gold and silver abounded with some royal blue tossed in with a few cushy club chairs. Gold chandeliers dripped light; slim silver urns displayed an arrangement of twisted, gold-flecked branches.
The air, hushed and fragrant, whispered discreetly of wealth and privilege.
Two clerks, in royal blue suits, manned a curved, mirrored counter. One continued to work diligently on her comp. The other tossed his best professional smile at Eve.
“Good morning, and welcome to House Royale. How may I assist you today?”
Maybe it was petty, but Eve felt just a tiny bump of satisfaction when she held up her badge and watched that smile drop away.
“We’re here to speak to Gwendolyn Huffman.”
“Felicity?” He looked over at his companion, who’d stopped working to fold her hands on the counter.
“Verify their IDs, Jonathan.”
“Oh, yes, of course. If I could scan your badges, please?”
After he rooted up a scanner, verified, Felicity nodded.
“We cleared two officers about a half hour ago. Clearance was delayed, as Ms. Huffman had a Do Not Disturb on her unit. Ms. Huffman’s fiancé arrived about fifteen minutes before we put through clearance. As Ms. Huffman had updated her DND to exclude him, Mr. Caine went straight up.”