Page 121 of Bonded in Death

“Not anymore. Good-looking, and he’s got some…” She rubbed her fingers together. “Not like Roarke, but he’s got some, all right. Pushing seventy if he hasn’t already pushed it, and her maybe half that. And a couple days ago, he takes her off to the Olympus Resort, and that takes…”

Fingers rubbed.

“Me, I’m not going off-planet for love or money, but they’re off.”

“And 5-C?” Peabody asked. “Claude Roster?”

“Poor guy. His wife left him for her yoga instructor. Thirty years married, and that’s it for you, buddy. Moved in about three months ago. His daughter helped him. She and her man and their kids visit him, get him out of the apartment. They brought him the sweetest little kitten a few weeks ago so he’d have company.”

She offered a brilliant smile. “Am I helping?”

“Yes, thanks. Those fall outside our area of investigation. If we could see the empty units.”

“Absolutely. I’ve got my pass swipe right here.” She patted her pocket.

“I have a master,” Eve said. “If it’s all the same to you, we’d like to take a look on our own.”

“Oh, well, sure.” Oglebee’s disappointment flooded the area. “It’s all official and everything, right?”

“Yes, ma’am. We appreciate your time and cooperation.”

“Is there going to be another vid?” she called out.

Since she could feel Eve’s inner shudder, Peabody glanced back. Smiled. “They’re working on it.”

“Can’t wait!”

“Think of it this way,” Peabody began as they started up the stairs. “We got a lot out of her because she saw the vid.”

“I’m trying not to think about it at all. Women, dogs, cats, family. Potter likes complications, but no way he could build that kind of cover in a matter of weeks or months. And he works alone.”

“Can’t argue there.”

Eve turned into the hallway. “Good soundproofing, clean, good security on the apartments.”

She mastered through at 3-C.

“And a really nice space again.” Peabody walked in, turned a circle. “Nice, street-facing windows. Without the rain, there’d be lots of natural light.”

As she was more interested in the view, Eve walked to the front windows. “Prime spot. He wouldn’t need binocs from here. Might use them to get a closer look.”

“They must’ve just painted the place.”

“Yeah, I can smell it.” She went back to the door, crouched down to examine the locks. “Top-of-the-line. He may have gotten his hands on a master, otherwise, there’s no sign of circumventing them.”

“I’ll say the painters couldn’t have finished more than a day ago. Breaking in after hours, maybe, but the building has cams, too, and tight security.”

“Go give Oglebee a thrill. Ask her to let you scan the security feed for the last forty-eight, find out when the painters finished, and if either of the units have applications in. I’ll go through here, and if you’re not back, you can meet me at the one on five.”

Alone, Eve walked through over shining floors with the smell of fresh paint everywhere. She found every surface immaculate. Including the kitchen, bathroom, and the tiny powder room drains.

When her ’link signaled, she scanned an incoming from Nadine. Theintrepid reporter had managed to amass considerable data on Potter, which Eve already had.

But she’d managed to track down one of the cops—female—who’d served with Potter.

Interview attached, but to summarize, DCI Gemma Standish, a young constable at the time she was on the cops with Potter, describes him as—and I quote—a right prick. Heavy-handed with suspects and prisoners. She doesn’t recall him having any particular friends in the unit, no one who’d buy him a pint or socialize with him after hours. A loner. He treated all female officers with overt disrespect, often referring to them as Cunt Coppers.

“Yeah, that sums him up.”

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