“My grandson,” she said, still stunned and off-guard, as he had hoped she would be.
“I’d like to have his statement for the report, if that’s all right.”
Her eyes grew sharply suspicious once again. “Why? You have the pictures, why do you need to talk to Taylor?”
Smart old bird. “Just following procedure.” Her defenses were up. That was telling.
“Taylor is out of town. He won’t be home for weeks.”
“Can I get a phone number?”
Her lips pursed. “It’s stored in my cell phone, which as I mentioned, is dead. I don’t remember it by heart. I’ll have to call you with it.”
Ooh, very smart old bird. “Please do that, Mrs. Kobrecki. Thank you for your time.”
“Can I have my pictures back?”
“I’ll need them for my report. I’ll make copies and ensure you get these back.”
Her cheeks darkened. “Thank you. If there’s nothing else?”
“No ma’am. You’ve been very helpful.”
She looked as if she wanted to curse. Instead she left silently fuming. Noah locked the door and attached the crime scene tape. They needed to find Taylor Kobrecki.
Chapter Five
Monday, February 22, 2:45 p.m.
Eve stood on Martha Brisbane’s apartment building manager’s welcome mat, her fist an inch from the woman’s door. She’d stopped herself from knocking twice already.
Eve’s attempt to talk with Christy Lewis had fallen flat. Christy hadn’t come into the office and hadn’t called in sick. That meant Christy had either overslept after spending all night online, or was still online. Frustrated and needing to do something, Eve had driven to Martha’s, hoping to learn where the woman’s funeral would be held.
But what if the building manager asks how I know Martha? You’ll say you know her from work. That’s not a lie. Drawing a breath, Eve lifted her hand to knock just as a little old lady came stomping down the stairs to the manager’s basement apartment.
“I don’t want any,” she said. She slammed the door so hard the walls shook.
“I think I’ll wait for the obituary,” Eve murmured. She started up the stairs, then heard footsteps coming down. The hairs on the back of her neck lifted, and she’d learned long ago to trust her senses. Slowing, she waited until whoever was coming was gone.
It was a man, all in black. All the way up to the fedora on his head.
Oh. It was more quiet exhalation than a word, but he’d heard. He paused at the door, then turned, and her stomach rolled, just as it did every time she saw him.
Mr. Tonic Water himself. He came to the head of the stairs, eyes shadowed by the brim of his hat. “Eve?” He sounded as surprised as she was.
“Detective.” It was the only word that would move from her brain to her lips. Why was he here? Why did her heart have to hammer like a piston every time she saw him?
“Why are you here?” he asked, which was a damn good question.
She walked past him to the door. “I was wondering when Martha’s funeral would be.”
“That I don’t know,” he said. “How did you know Miss Brisbane?”
She stared up at him unflinchingly, her mouth dry as dust. “From work.”
His dark brows lifted slightly. “From Sal’s? I never saw her there.”
You only come in once a week. “Not from Sal’s. I’ll check the paper for her obituary.”
“Eve, wait. I need to know more. You knew her from work, but not from Sal’s?”
“I just wanted to pay my respects. Excuse me.” She could feel his eyes on her as she escaped, staring from beneath the brim of his fedora.
Fedora. Why was the Hat Squad here? Abruptly she turned. “I read Martha committed suicide.”
“That’s what the paper said, yes,” he said, his stare too penetrating for her comfort.
“But you’re homicide.”
“We investigate suicides.”
“But that’s not why you’re here. If Martha killed herself you would have closed it last night.” When he’d come by to fetch Jack, he was so angry she’d felt it across the bar. She came closer, until she could see under the brim of his hat. “Did Martha kill herself?”
His jaw tightened, almost imperceptibly. “Why?”
Because if she didn’t, I’m not guilty or responsible. Someone else was. Oh my God. Martha was murdered. By whom? And why? She was in Shadowland eighteen fucking hours a day. How could any real person have known her to murder her?
She drew a breath of frigid air. “It matters to me, okay? Martha mattered.”
His eyes shifted and suddenly they were no longer unreadable. She saw a flash of pain, of grief, of anger. And suddenly she knew Martha mattered to him as well.
In that moment Eve wanted, needed to tell him everything. Which terrified her.
“She didn’t kill herself,” he said. “Where did you know her from? I need to know. Please.”
I didn’t do it. I didn’t kill her. Relief sent a shudder down her spine. “Work. I knew her from work. I have to go.” And when she turned, he didn’t try to stop her.
“Was that Eve from Sal’s?” Jack asked when Noah got back to the car.
“Yeah. She said she knew Martha ‘from work.’ ”
“Really? I never saw Martha at Sal’s.”
“No, Eve said it was from Martha’s work.”
Jack blinked, clearly taken aback. “Really? Well, well, well. Still waters, they say.”
“What the hell are you babbling about?” Noah asked irritably.
Jack held out a paycheck. “Payable to Martha Brisbane from Siren Song, Inc.”
“Siren Song. Never heard of them,” Noah muttered.
“Me either, so I had Faye run them through the system.”
“And?” Faye was their office administrator. “What did she say?”
“Siren Song is a phone sex business.”
Noah’s jaw dropped. “What?”
“Yep. I called the number on their business registration, but only got a voicemail. Here’s the address. Let’s go pay them a visit.”
“Wait.” Noah’s mind was still spinning. “Eve is a phone sex provider?”
Jack looked amused. “Um, so was Martha. Our victim? Remember her?”
Noah opened his mouth. Closed it again. “Goddammit,” he said.
He started the car and Jack shrugged. “I checked Martha’s bank statement while you were in there. She spent almost every penny on that nursing home for her mother, which is expensive. She needed the money, Web. Maybe Eve does, too. It’s not illegal.”
I’m just disappointed. He’d thought more of Eve. For a moment, seeing her there, outside of a bar… For a moment he’d thought it was fate kicking him in the ass, like Trina said. But now… A phone sex provider? “Bartenders make good money.”
“She’s a grad student,” Jack said. “College is expensive.”
Noah’s scowl deepened. “How did you know she’s a grad student?”
“You think I’ve been going up to the bar to get your water because I’m nice? I’ve been trying to get Eve to go out with me for six months, ever since… Well, you know.”
Yeah, Noah thought bitterly. He knew. Before six months ago Jack wouldn’t have given Eve the time of day. Her scar had put him off. The man was a prince.
Jack made a rude noise. “Don’t you look at me like that, Web. You sure weren’t making a move, before or after she got her face fixed.”
Sometimes, I swear to God… Noah gripped the wheel to keep his hand from balling into an annoyed fist, but couldn’t stop himself from asking, “What did she say?”