“Certainly. Earnestine can get that for you.” Berkle fluttered a hand at her assistant. “Ann’s a genius with a needle—sewing needle. I’ve used her quite a lot in the past … I suppose it’s over a year now. She worked at Dobb’s in Brooklyn, but went out on her own. I hope she’s not in trouble.”
“We have evidence making Ann Elizabeth Smith the prime suspect in three murders.”
“Murders? Good God.”
“Ann?” Dru lowered her wineglass. “We couldn’t be talking about the same Ann Smith. She’s the sort who’d run away from a fly if one landed on her.”
“Still waters, sweetheart.” Berkle patted her daughter’s hand. “She’s, as I said, a genius in tailoring. Very short on conversation and social skills. Not awkward so much as … closed,” Berkle decided. “Exceedingly polite, but more like a droid who’s been programmed than genuine, if you understand me. I can’t say I sensed any violence in her—discontent, yes, but not violence. She’s been in my home many times.”
“We believe you may be her next target.”
“Me?” Berkle’s eyebrows winged up, and a faint flicker of alarm rippled across her face. But her voice, and the hand that lifted the wine to her lips, stayed steady. “Whatever for? We’ve never had a cross word between us.”
“You fit the profile for her next victim. A wealthy widow with a son and a daughter.”
As quickly as possible, Eve hit the salient points. The books, Smith’s obsession, the sightings and stalkings, while Earnestine gave Peabody Smith’s contact number.
Berkle watched Eve calmly.
“This particular book—and, Earnestine, let’s get those, I want to read this series—has me representing a woman killed by her son, who then attempts to frame his sister. He pushes me down the stairs?”
“Yes.”
“I should be safe in that case, as I have no intention of letting her back in my home. Added to that, my son left with his family this morning for our estate on Kauai. I, along with Dru and her family, leave in the morning. For two and a half weeks.”
“Who knows your plans?”
“A number of people, including Ann, as she recently delivered some of my vacation wardrobe.”
“She could be waiting until you get back,” Peabody pointed out, but Eve shook her head.
“No, she has to move quickly. She can’t wait that long now. She had contingencies with Loxie Flash. She’ll have one here, too. Regardless, Ms. Berkle—”
“Natalia,” she said again. “We’re compatriots at this point.”
“Regardless, you need to take precautions. If Smith attempts to access your home before you leave—”
“She wouldn’t get past the lobby. You can be assured I’ll notify building security. And I won’t open that door.” The fat diamond on her finger winked light as she lifted her wine. “I like my life.”
“Are you staying here tonight?” Eve asked Dru.
“No, actually, I’m leaving shortly.”
“I’m going to have you escorted. You’d open the door if she threatened your daughter?”
“Yes, I would.” Berkle’s breath inhaled, exhaled—and shook. “Yes, I certainly would. You do exactly what Lieutenant Dallas says, Dru.”
“We’ll have you escorted home. Engage your security, and keep your family inside. I’m going to have all of you escorted to your transportation in the morning if this isn’t resolved.”
“I’m grateful,” Berkle said as Eve rose.
“You don’t seem shaken or surprised.”
“Truthfully, I’m a little of both. If you’d told me Ann had drowned herself in her own bathtub, I’d have been sorry, but unsurprised. This is just another way to destroy her own life.”
“Natalia.” Roarke rose, took her hand and kissed it. “You’re a wonder.”
“I’m a survivor,” she said. “And, Dru, we’re going to leave tonight. How much time do you need?”
“I can get Renaldo and the kids up and running in an hour.”
“Earnestine, change of plans.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
“Good thinking,” Eve commented. “I’ll arrange for the escorts. One more thing,” she said as a switch flicked in her head. “You said Smith is a genius—and you shopped at Dobb’s with your sister-in-law. Did she also use Smith?”
“Occasionally, yes. But Sal’s married—three girls, no sons. And currently is in St. Kitts.”
“I imagine both you and she might have recommended Smith to others.”
“I can’t speak for Sal, but I certainly have.”
“Can you think of anyone who fits the profile?”
“I haven’t really thought …” She lurched to her feet, all the color in her face leaching away. “Oh my God. Oh my God, Dru!”
“Aunt Felicity! Not my actual aunt, but—”
“My oldest friend, godmother to my baby girl. Felicity Lomare. She’s a widow. She lost her husband six years ago. She has a son and a daughter, the same as I do. She uses Ann. I praised her to the skies and introduced them. Oh my God.”
“The address.”
“It’s—” Berkle pressed a hand to her temple. “I can’t think—”
Stepping in, Earnestine rattled off an address a few blocks away. “It’s a private home, not a building,” she added. “It’s gated.”
“I have to call her, call her right away. If anything happened to Felicity—”
“Tell her we’re on our way,” Eve told Berkle as she walked to the elevator. “If she’s not at home, she should stay where she is until we get there. We’ll contact her.”
Eve ordered the lobby.
“She won’t be on the Dobb’s list. Smarter, smarter to go for somebody she didn’t work with while at Dobb’s. Berkle was more likely the contingency, and Lomare the prime target.”
Her comm signaled. “Dallas.”
“We found her hole,” Santiago told her. “A flop in Brownsville a few blocks from that sighting. Fourth-floor unit. We’re outside it now, but we don’t think she’s in there. Nosy guy on the first floor saw her leave about an hour ago. LT? He says he almost didn’t recognize her because she’d changed her hair, gone all curly, and was wearing a man’s coat and hat. But she was carrying her big sewing kit. He recognized that.”
“Get a warrant for entry, for search and seizure. Take down the door.”
“Should we wait for you to take the door?”
“Don’t wait for me. I have another line on her. Take the door, secure the flop. Record every fucking thing. Leave a watch on the street in case she comes back. If I’m wrong, take her down there.”
Eve ran across the lobby, startling the concierge, then the doormen. She jumped into the passenger seat, hit lights and sirens.
“Burn it,” she told Roarke.
“Delighted.”
As he burned it, Peabody clung to the seat with one hand, her ’link with the other. “Straight to v-mail, Dallas. She may still be talking to Ms. Berkle.”
“Try Berkle.”
As Roarke swerved around a Rapid Cab, streamed between a limo and a shiny sedan, Peabody’s grip tightened.
“She says she can’t get her to answer.”
Roarke screamed to a halt in front of secured gates.
“No, don’t call through,” she told him. “Just open them.”
He lowered the window, boosted himself up to sit on the frame, and pulled out some little device.
“It’s a good system,” he said after a moment. “So it’ll take …” The gates slid open. “That much time.”
He dropped onto the seat again, roared through the gates, up a short, straight drive to a three-story brownstone as regal as a queen. Lights shined in every window and around a grand entrance door under a portico.
Eve jumped out, pointed at the door. “Now that. I don’t want her to know we’re coming,” she said as Roarke got to work. “The target’s not answering her ’link, may already be in distress. Or dead. When he gets it open, if the vic’s not lying at the foot of the damn stairs, clear the first floor. Roarke, head up to three. I’ll take two. Otherwise—”
The door opened into a sparkling, quietly lit foyer. With no body at the foot of the wide double staircase straight ahead.
At the sound of approaching footsteps, Eve swung her weapon toward the archway to the right.
A woman of about fifty—white apron over a black dress—squeaked, slapped both hands to her mouth.
“Stay quiet. NYPSD.” Lowering her weapon, Eve drew out her badge. “Peabody.”
Peabody pulled out the photo. “Is this woman in the house?”
“Y-y-yes. Upstairs, with Ms. Felicity.”
“Where?” Eve demanded. “Exactly where?”
“But-but-but—”
“Your employer’s at risk. Where are they?”
“Second floor, west wing, double doors at the end of the hallway.”
“Go back into the kitchen. Stay there.”
As Eve started up the stairs, Felicity turned in front of the triple mirror. “I’m so glad you called, Ann. Getting all these pieces fitted tonight takes the rush off, doesn’t it? And it makes me think of spring.”
She turned again. “And the fact that my new trainer’s helped me take off six pounds! And I really wanted you to do the alterations. The seamstress at my boutique just doesn’t have your touch.”
Well used to dominating the conversation during fittings, Felicity sipped some wine and rambled on.
“I just can’t get over your new ’do. Such a bold and fun choice. I really like the new look.”