“It’s the kind of place where birds probably splat their tiny birdbrains on the windows regular.”
“That’s an image, boy.” And Peabody took a couple cautious steps back. “Still, it’s a totally uptown view. Don’t you want to see?”
“I can see fine from here.” To Eve’s mind, lofty heights should be left to the birdbrains. In any case, her interest centered on what and who lived in the space, not what spread outside.
A moment later, Ava made her entrance. The widow wore black in a snugly fitted, high-collared shirt with slim pants and heels. Her hair coiled at the nape of her neck, pulled tightly back from a face with shadowed, exhausted eyes. Beside her, an arm supportively around Ava’s waist, Brigit Plowder conveyed boldness and challenge. She topped off at about five feet, with her tiny frame tucked neatly into a plum-colored sweater and stone-gray pants. Her hair, a pure white cap, set off laser-sharp green eyes and the arched black brows that framed them. Her mouth formed a deep bow Eve assumed could be charming when it smiled, but at the moment those lips clamped together in tight disapproval bordering on anger.
“I’m going to say this straight off.” Brigit’s voice was a throaty boom worthy of a woman twice her size. “This is outrageous.”
“I agree. Murder is always outrageous.”
A quick spark fired in those keen eyes. It might have been approval. “I understand you have a job to do, Lieutenant, and from everything I’ve been told about you and this one,” she said with a gesture toward Peabody, “you excel at your work. That’s admirable. However, bombarding Ava at such a time shows a distinct lack of sensitivity and compassion.”
“It’s all right, Bridge.”
“It’s not all right. Why can’t you give us all a few days, just a few days to grieve?”
“Because then I give Thomas Anders’s killer a few days.” Eve shifted her gaze back to Ava. “I apologize for disturbing you, Mrs. Anders. The investigation requires it.”
“I don’t see why-”
“Look, Mrs. Plowder, I’m a murder cop, and any murder cop will tell you time’s the enemy. The more time that passes, the cooler the trail. The trail goes cold, the killer can walk. When killers walk, it pisses me off. If you want to blame somebody for me being here, blame the killer. Now, the more time you stand there complaining, the more time we’re going to be here.”
Brigit’s chin jutted out, then angled as she inclined her head. “You’re absolutely right. I don’t like it, don’t like any of it, but you’re absolutely right. Come on, Ava, let’s sit down now. I’ll apologize, Lieutenant, Detective,” she continued as she led Ava to a thickly cushioned sofa in deep blue. “I’m rarely rude to guests in my home, even uninvited guests. I’m not altogether myself today. None of us are. Please, sit down.”
As Eve and Peabody took wide-armed chairs, Agnes rolled in a tray. “I’ve got chamomile tea for you, Ava. You’ll do better with that than coffee.”
“Thank you, Agnes.” Ava took the cup, stared into it.
“I’ll see she drinks it this time,” Brigit stated.
“Thanks.” Eve accepted the coffee Agnes offered. “Since you’re here, Mrs. Plowder, can you tell me when you and Mrs. Anders made your travel plans?”
“Travel? Oh. That seems like years ago already. We go away every year. Ava, Sasha-Sasha Bride-West-and myself. A week somewhere warm, a restorative at the end of winter.”
“This particular restorative. When did you make the plans? The dates, the destination.”
“Oh…Three months ago. About?” she added, turning to Agnes.
“Nearly four, actually. I booked the arrangements in November, just before Thanksgiving.”
“Agnes knows all, remembers all,” Brigit said, and Eve saw she’d been right. The smile was charming.
“We had such a lovely day.” Ava’s voice dripped like tears. “Such a lovely day on Monday. Breakfast on the terrace. Mimosas. We had mimosas, and we got just a little drunk. At breakfast, remember, Bridge?”
“Yes, honey, I remember.”
“We laughed like idiots. Everything was so funny. And later, when I called Tommy later, I cut it all so short. We were going to have massages on the terrace, where we’d gotten a little bit drunk at breakfast. So I cut it all very short. ‘I’ll talk to you later, Tommy,’ that’s what I said to him. ‘I’ll talk to you later. I want my massage.’ That’s the last thing I said to him, because there wasn’t any later.”
“Sweetheart.” Brigit brushed her fingers over Ava’s cheek. “Don’t do this.”
“I don’t know about trails going cold; I just know Tommy’s dead. I saw him myself when Ben took me to him. I saw Tommy dead.”
“Mrs. Anders.” Peabody shifted forward. “This is a terrible time for you. We’re here to help. You’ve lost your husband. Don’t you want to know why? Don’t you want to know who?”
“I don’t know.” Ava lifted her gaze, aimed those wet blue eyes at Peabody. “I should. I know I should. But he’ll still be gone.”
“He’d want you to know,” Peabody said. “He’d want us to find those answers.”
“I don’t know them. How could I?”
“You knew him best. You were his wife. There are things you know, things you may not realize are important, are relevant. That’s why we’re here. We will know.”
“Your husband’s date book,” Eve began. “Did he make the entries himself?”
“His date book? Yes.”
“And the autosystem in the bedroom, the wake-up program and so on. Would he have programmed that personally?”
“Yes.” Ava straightened in her seat. “He enjoyed that, hearing his first appointment of the day, being reminded of what he’d ordered for breakfast.”
“The two of you must have gotten up at the same time routinely.”
“Oh, if he had an early appointment, and I didn’t, I’d wear earplugs. And have Greta wake me.”
“Do you take sleep aids?”
“Oh, occasionally.” She waved a hand. “Now and then.”
“Did he?”
“Now and then. Everyone does, don’t they?”
“He had very specific routines. The bedroom door always closed, the internal security cameras shut down at night, no cameras in the sleeping area of the master bedroom.”
“Yes, he was very private.”
“Even in hotels,” Brigit put in. “We all traveled together quite a bit. Tommy always instructed housekeeping to keep the bedroom door closed, and tipped them in advance to insure they did.”
“He’d have been very careful regarding home security,” Eve commented.
“He had the system checked and evaluated every quarter.” Ava lifted her teacup, sipped. “And upgraded whenever upgrades became available. It wasn’t just security, though of course that was the priority. But Tommy liked…toys, if you know what I mean.”
“I do.”
“He just got such a kick out of all the bells and whistles. He liked to play,” she said wistfully.
And playing was the next line of questioning. “Mrs. Plowder, my partner and I need to speak with Mrs. Anders privately.”
“Oh, but can’t Brigit stay?” Ava fumbled for her friend’s hand. “I feel so much better with her here.”
“There are some sensitive questions. If, after we’ve concluded, you opt to share them with Mrs. Plowder, that’s your privilege. If you’d excuse us, Mrs. Plowder, Ms. Morelli.”
“We’ll be right upstairs.” Brigit patted Ava’s arm. “You only have to call if you want me.”
As her friend left the room, Ava set down her teacup, gripped her hands together in her lap. “This is about how Tommy was found. Brigit knows. Everyone knows.”
“Was your husband involved in sexual relationships outside of your marriage?”
“No.”