Obviously, Eve thought, since she was eating the mysterious substance purporting to be meat substitute that was slapped between two bricks of some sort of bread matter, she wasn’t spoiled.
A person got used to what they were used to, that’s all. And since Roarke insisted on having cow meat and other natural food products around the house, she was accustomed to them. She didn’t even notice the difference now. The food was just there, like a chair, or a picture on the wall that she didn’t really look at . . .
Because it was day to day.
She yanked out her communicator.
“Feeney.” His face filled her screen. “And this better be good.”
Eve noted that his hair, however he’d shortened it, was sticking up in mad tufts. Whatever he was working on, she concluded, wasn’t going well.
“I need you to take the civilian and his magic fingers over to Queens. Take those sculptures apart.”
“You want us to take sculptures apart.”
“You didn’t find eyes and ears in the house yet, right?”
“I got a couple of boys doing another sweep.”
“Move them out, and you and Roarke move in. The sculptures, Feeney. She wouldn’t have thought twice about the sculptures. Reva wouldn’t have checked them because he brought them in. She wouldn’t have thought twice about them, and they’re every fucking where inside and out. Take them apart.”
“Fine, fine. I could use a change of scene.”
“Have Roarke talk to her, see if there was anywhere in particular where she might’ve done some work at home in addition to her office. Or had conversations with him or anyone regarding Securecomp. When you nail those locations, concentrate on the artwork—such as it is—in that sector.”
“I got it. I’ll leave McNab on this detail here. Boy’s young enough a little frustration won’t kill him.”
Eve stuck the communicator away. “Finish that off,” she said with a nod at Peabody’s plate. “We’re going back to the Flatiron, and tearing down Bissel’s works-in-progress.”
“You got all that because I said you were spoiled?”
“You never know what’s going to kick it off, do you? Another thing I’m thinking: Chloe didn’t have any of Bissel’s work in her place. Wouldn’t you think she’d have wheedled something? Some small piece of her lover’s work? She’s in love with him, or so she believes. She’s an art major, she works in his gallery, but she doesn’t have a sample of his genius.”
“You’re thinking that’s gone the way of her locket.”
“We’ll contact Deena on the way, and see.”
Eve stood in the studio, hands on hips, as she studied the complicated twists and marriages of metals that formed the sculptures.
“Okay, I miscalculated this. Taking these apart’s going to require specific tools. We’ve got them around here, but using them’s another matter.”
“I actually know how to use some of them.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Eve circled the tallest of the works. “Thing is, if we cut or melt or just fucking blast, we’d damage or eradicate the device. If there is indeed a device. And we need EDD or one of those handy scanners to verify that.”
“The sweepers went over them.”
“I’m betting it wouldn’t register on a standard sweep. Even on a deeper one. A spook sweep,
now that might be different. This guy sold these pieces of crap all over the world. Corporations, private residences, even government facilities.”
“And if they’re bugged, it’s a pretty slick way of getting intel.”
“Mmm.” Eve kept circling, studying. “I can’t see them wasting his talent. This makes sense to me. It’s logical. I bet they’d have loved to have had one of these inside one of Roarke’s companies. Trouble was, he didn’t like the work, and even with Reva’s influence he didn’t pony up. Didn’t matter so much, since they bugged her.”
“It’s going to sound paranoid, but do you think somebody’s watching us now?”
“Maybe.” In case, Eve offered a wide grin. Screw security and lockdowns and silent runnings. She hoped they were watching. It was time to go hand to hand.