He already knew. He was clinging to the slippery thread of denial, Eve thought, but he already knew. She cut the thread, fast.
“Mr. Boyle, I’m sorry to tell you that Darlene and Marcus Fitzwilliams are dead.”
“That’s not possible. I’m meeting Darlene for dinner. She’s running late, and the media flash said . . .”
He looked toward the doors, the lights, the barricades, the body bag.
“Oh God.” He started to lurch up. “Darlene.”
“Sit.” Eve pulled him down again.
“The media flash said murder/suicide. That’s insane. That’s absolutely insane.”
Goddamn leaks, Eve thought. “We haven’t determined murder or suicide. Where were you between eight and eight thirty?”
“What? I don’t know. What time is it?” He looked at his wrist unit, and started to shake. “In the restaurant. In KiKi’s—it’s on Third. She was late, she didn’t answer her ’link. Marcus didn’t answer his. Darlene . . .”
“When did you last speak to her?”
“This morning, before I left for work. We live together. We’re getting married. We haven’t set the date, but . . .”
Tears rolled. Eve thought his eyes were still too shocked to realize they wept, so the tears just spilled down his cheeks.
“How would you describe her mood?”
“She’s been struggling—her parents’ death. But she seemed a little steadier this morning. But we talked later, on the ’link, and she was upset. She and Marcus had an argument. She hadn’t gone to the lawyer’s office for the estate meeting. She’d promised him she’d be there, and she hadn’t gone. Papers needed to be signed, so Marcus was frustrated. I spoke with him, too. Mediating, I guess. They’d never hurt each other, not this way.”
He began to rock now, then just dropped his head in his hands and wept.
Eve rose, ordered a uniform to find coffee somewhere, and gave Henry time to compose himself.
And did her best to block his view when they brought the body bag down from the fifty-second floor.
The doorman came up with a go-cup from the staff break room.
Henry cupped his trembling hands around it. “I can’t understand. I keep thinking, no, this isn’t real. I kissed her good-bye this morning. She’s been distant and distracted for a while now, but she kissed me back. She held on to me, and told me she loved me. Just this morning.”
“Was she taking any drugs? Any medication? Any illegals?”
“She used some sleep aid—a natural herbal blend. And she’d taken an antidepressant for a while, right after her parents died, but she threw it away last summer. She didn’t like how it made her feel. I’ve known her for five years, and lived with her for two now. She doesn’t do illegals.”
He drank some of the coffee, set it aside. “I know who you are. I mean, we’ve met. At Charles and Louise’s wedding. You had their wedding at your estate.”
“Yeah, I remember.”
“I work for Roarke.”
That she didn’t remember—or hadn’t known. “As what?”
“Architectural engineer, rehabilitation specialist. New York branch. Lieutenant Dallas, what they’re saying on the media reports, it’s not true. Darlene and Marcus fought like any brother and sister, but they loved each other. And Darlene, she’s gentle. She’s gentle and loving and compassionate. Someone did this to them. You have to find out who did this to them.”
“Working on it. Did she use a lapel recorder?”
“What? No. She didn’t have one. Why?”
“Just details.” Puzzling ones, Eve thought. “Is there someone you’d like me to contact for you?”
“The two people who mean the most to me in the world are gone.”
“Louise?” Eve suggested.
“I— Yes.” He swiped at his eyes. “Do they know? I should talk to them. I should—”
“They know.” Rising again, Eve contacted Louise, got the go-ahead. “I’m going to have you taken downtown, to Louise. She’d like you to stay with them tonight.”
“She loved them, too.”
“Who didn’t?”
He shook his head. “Marcus ran a tight ship, from what I know, and people who have a great deal of money can inspire envy or contempt. But I don’t know anyone who disliked either of them enough to hurt them.”
“Who’ll be running the tight ship now?”
“I’m not sure. I’d guess their uncle—Gareth’s younger brother, Sean. He and his wife—second wife—are based mostly in Europe. He runs their resort business over there. I don’t know that much about it. Darlene’s primarily involved in the foundation work. Marcus handled the reins of the businesses.”
“All right. I need to go through her things.”
He stared, blankly, with red-rimmed eyes. “Her things?”
“You said you lived together. I need to have access to your residence and go through her things. Your electronics.”
“We’re on First Avenue. I can take you.”
“I can get there. Your permission makes it smoother.”
“Whatever you need to do. I can give you my key swipe, my access codes.”
“I have a master. If you think of anything else, let me know. Louise knows how to contact me.”
“When can I see her? Please. When can I see Darlene?”
“I’ll let you know.”
“I kissed her good-bye this morning. I didn’t know it was going to be the last time.” He slid his hands into his pockets, drew out a pair of dark gray ladies’ gloves. “Darlene’s. She left them on the table by the door this morning. I saw them when I got home tonight to change for dinner. She’s always doing that. I put them in my pocket for her. It’s cold out.”
Eve carried his grief upstairs. It weighed on her as she studied the blood on the floor of the penthouse.
“All the electronics tagged,” Peabody told her. “I scanned them—and there’s a conversation between the male vic and Louise about coming over tonight and setting up what they called a mini intervention with the sister. Two conversations with the fiancé—who also left a v-mail about nine, saying Darlene was running late and didn’t answer her ’link.”
“Jibes with his statement.”
“Her ’link’s in the handbag we’re taking into evidence. Several v-mails and texts from the brother about her being late, then missing this meeting. A conversation with the fiancé and two v-mails and two texts from him asking where she was, asking her to get back to him. E-mails that appear to deal with business again—the foundation stuff.
“No illegals,” Peabody continued, “no evidence of another occupant. Sweepers took a good look at the security, and agree with you. No break-in. But EDD will give it the once-over. He’s got some cash, and the place has plenty of easily transported valuables—e-stuff, art, jewelry. We came up with two safes. One in the bedroom, one in the home office. EDD to access.”
“Okay. I want another look at the on-door security feed.”
“I had a look myself.”
Eve accessed the viewing screen through a panel by the main door.
“I ran it back to this morning when the vic left—oh-seven-thirty-eight,” Peabody said. “According to his calendar, he had an eight o’clock meeting at his HQ. Nobody came in or came to the door until he returned at eighteen-sixteen. Alone. And no other approach until the sister. Here. Twenty-oh-three.”
Eve watched Darlene step to the door, press the buzzer. Smile. Watched her mouth move as the door opened, and she stepped inside and out of cam view.
And Eve ran it back, watched again.
“No illegals. They all say nope, she never did illegals. Look at her eyes, for Christ’s sake.”