“That would be right.”
“But Mr. Lowell is in London.” He repeated the information slowly, and with what seemed to be a wealth of patience. “Or traveling. He travels quite extensively, I understand.”
“When did you see him last?”
“Five, perhaps six years ago. Yes, I believe it would be six.”
Eve pulled out the ID print. “Is this Robert Lowell?”
“Why yes, yes it is. I’m very confused, Lieutenant. This is Robert Lowell, the first. He’s been dead for, my goodness, nearly forty years. His portrait hangs in my office.”
“Is that so?” Smart, Eve decided. Some smart son of a bitch. “How about this man?” She took out Yancy’s sketch.
“Yes, that’s the current Mr. Lowell, or a close likeness.” His color receded a bit as he looked from the sketch to Eve. “I saw this displayed on screen, on media reports. I honestly never connected it. I-as I said-I haven’t seen Mr. Lowell in several years, and I never…I simply didn’t see him in this until you asked just now.
“But you see, there has to be some mistake. Mr. Lowell is a very quiet and solitary man. He couldn’t possibly-”
“That’s what they all say. I have a team arriving momentarily, with a warrant. We need to go through this building.”
“But Lieutenant Dallas, I assure you he’s not here.”
“It happens I believe you, but we still go through the building. Where does he stay when he comes to New York?”
“I don’t honestly know. It’s so rare…and it wasn’t my place to ask.” Travers’s fingers moved up to the knot of his somber tie, brushed there twice.
“There was a second location on the Lower West Side during the Urbans.”
“Yes, yes, I believe so. But we’ve been the only location downtown for as long as I’ve been associated with the company.”
“How long would that be?”
“Lieutenant, I’ve been director here for almost fifteen years. I’ve only had direct contact with Mr. Lowell a handful of times at best. He’s made it clear he doesn’t like to be disturbed.”
“I bet. I need the lawyers, Mr. Travers, and any other information on Robert Lowell you have. What do you know about his stepmother?”
“His…I think she was killed during the Urban Wars. As she wasn’t, to my knowledge, involved with the business, the information I have on her is very minimal.”
“Name?”
“I’m so sorry, I don’t know it offhand. It might be in our records. Well, this is-this is all very disturbing.”
“Yeah,” Eve said dryly. “Murder can just ruin a perfectly good funeral.”
“I only meant-” Color came into his cheeks, then died away. “I understand you must do your job. But, Lieutenant, we have a memorial in progress for one of the women who was killed. I have to ask you and your men to be discreet. This is an extremely difficult and delicate time for Ms. York’s friends and family.”
“I’m going to make sure Ariel Greenfeld’s friends and family don’t end up in your Tranquility Room anytime soon.”
T hey were as discreet as a half a dozen cops could be, with Feeney and McNab tackling the electronics for any data. Eve stood in the basement prep room with Roarke.
“Not much different from the morgue. Smaller,” she noted, scanning the steel worktables, the gullies on the sides, the hoses and tubes and tools. “I guess he got some of his knowledge of anatomy working here. Might have had some of his early practice sessions on corpses.”
“Charming thought.”
“Yeah, well, being as they were already dead-hopefully-it probably didn’t upset them too much. Oh, and FYI? When my time comes, I don’t want the preservatives and the stylist. You can just build a big fire, slide me in. Then you can throw yourself on the pyre to show your wild grief and constant devotion.”
“I’ll make a note of it.”
“Nothing down here for us. I want the second location that was up and running during the Urbans. Any other properties owned by Lowell, in any of his guises or fronts.”
“I’ll get to it,” Roarke told her.
She drew out her communicator, scowled at the buzzing static. “Reception’s crappy down here. Let’s go up. I want to see if Callendar had any luck with the stepmother.
“She could have had property in her name,” Eve continued as they started out. “Maybe he uses that. Lawyers are dragging their feet, as the breed’s prone to do. Between Whitney and Tibble they’ll cut through that bullshit quickly enough.”
“If he continues to be smart,” Roarke commented, “the lawyers would only lead you to a numbered account and message service. He covers himself well.”
“Then we’ll tackle the account and the service. Fucker’s in New York. He has a bolt-hole here, a work space, transportation. And one of these lines we’re yanking is going to bring us down on him.”
Eve had no more than reached the main level when her communicator beeped. “Dallas.”
“Found her!” Callendar all but sang it. “Edwina Spring. Found her in the music and entertainment section of an old Times. Opera sensation, if you believe the hype. Prodigy. Barely eighteen when she bowled over New York at the Met. I’ve got more coming up now that I’ve got her name.”
“Run a multitask. See if you can find any property in the city listed under her name.”
“On it.”
“Get it all together, Callendar. I’ve got a stop to make, then I’m heading in.”
“What stop?” Roarke wanted to know.
“Pella. He knows something. His medicals confirm he’s clocking out, and is barely able to walk across the room. But he knows something, and I’m not dicking around with him.”
“You weren’t tailed here.”
“That’s right.”
“Then it’s unlikely you’ll be tailed from here. As Peabody’s busy, I’ll go with you to see this Pella.”
“I can handle myself.”
“You certainly can. But do you want to pull any part of the team here off to run your wire? Simpler, quicker, if I go with you, then the rest of them meet us back at Central.”
“Maybe.” And for the sake of expediency, she shrugged. “Fine.”
W hen they arrived at Pella’s, there was a great deal of objecting and hand-fluttering from both the housekeeping and medical droids. Eve just pushed through it.
“If you’ve got a complaint, report it to the chief of police. Or the mayor. Yeah, the mayor loves to get complaints from droids.”
“We’re obliged to look after Mr. Pella, to see to his health and comfort.”
Obviously, some joker had programmed the housekeeping droid to whine. “None of you are going to feel very healthy or comfortable if I haul you into Central. So move aside or I’ll cite you for obstructing justice.”
Eve elbowed the medical away, shoved open the bedroom door. “Stay back, out of eyeline,” she said quietly to Roarke. “He might not talk if he sees I’ve brought company.”
It was dim, as it had been before, and she could hear the steady rasps of Pella sucking air through the breather.
“I said I didn’t want to be disturbed until I called for you.” His voice was testy, and sounded years older than it had the day before. “I’ll have you broken down into circuits and limbs if you don’t give me some damn peace.”
“That would be tough to manage from where you are,” Eve commented.
He stirred, his eyes opened to latch on to hers. “What do you want? I don’t have to talk to you. I spoke with my lawyer.”
“Fine, speak with him again and tell him to meet you at Central. He’ll explain that I can hold you there for twenty-four hours as a material witness to homicide.”
“What kind of bullshit is this! I haven’t witnessed anything but those damn droids hovering like vultures for the past six months.”
“You’re going to tell me what you know, Pella, or a good chunk of the time you’ve got left is going to be spent with me. Robert Lowell. Edwina Spring. Tell me.”
He shifted restlessly in the bed, plucked at the sheet. “If you know so much, why do you need me?”