"Yeah. But he lies down. Tired, off, maybe he thinks better on his back. Whatever." She poked into the adjoining bath as she thought it through. "Kinda dinky bathroom for a swank house like this."
"It's off the office, inaccessible from the rest. He wouldn't need plush."
"Yes, he does," Eve responded. "Look at the rest of the space. Oversized, fancy furniture, art. His private bath at the center was bigger than this, and this is his home."
Curious now, she stepped all the way in. "Dimension's aren't right, Peabody."
She hurried out, Peabody behind her, and went to Avril's office on the other side of the bath. She stared at the wall, covered with art, the small table, two chairs precisely centered.
"There's something between. Something between this wall and the bath." Walking back over, she studied the small linen and supply closet, pulled the doors open.
She rapped the back with a fist. "Hear that?"
"Solid. Heavy. Probably reinforced. Hot doggies! We got us a secret room, Dallas."
They searched for a mechanism, running hands over the walls, the shelves. Finally, Eve sat back on her heels, muttered a curse, and pulled out her 'link.
"Can you squeeze out any time between formulating plans for world domination and buying all the turkey in all the land?"
"Possibly. If there was incentive."
"I've got a hidden room. Can't find entry. It's probably electronically activated. I can call in EDD, but since you're still home, you're closer
"Address."
She gave it to him.
"Ten minutes."
Eve sat more comfortably on the floor. "I'll wait for him, contact tr.-alibi while I do. You want to have chats with some of the neighbors:
"No problem."
Eve made the call from where she sat, and wasn't surprised when Avril's Hamptons alibi checked out precisely. For the hell of it, she contacted the ice-cream parlor where Avril stated she'd taken the children And was again unsurprised when the statement held up to the letter
"You were damn well prepared," she muttered, and rising, walked back downstairs.
She tagged Morris.
"Just about to buzz you, Dallas. Stomach contents confirm the re-ported last meal. Tox shows a blocker. Standard stuff. And a mild tranq. Both ingested under an hour prior to death."
"How mild?"
"He'd have been relaxed, a little sleepy. He had a standard dose in him of both meds. A cocktail you might take if you had a nasty headache and wanted to rest."
"Fits." She thought of his position on the sofa. "Yeah, it fits. Got anything else?"
"No other trauma. Healthy male, superior face and body work. He’d have been conscious at time of death, but groggy. Identical weapon, single wound to the heart."
The door opened, and Roarke strolled in. "All right. Appreciate the speed. Later. You didn't have to pick the locks," she said to Roarke.
"Practice. Lovely home." He studied the decor of the foyer and living area. "A bit overly traditional, not particularly creative, but love of its kind."
"I'll be sure to put that in my report." She jerked a thumb toward the stairs, then started up.
"It's good security, by the way," he said conversationally. "It would have taken me longer if EDD hadn't already fiddled with it. As it was, a couple of neighbors gave me the eye. I believe they took me for a cop. Amazing."
She glanced over at him, the god of eye candy in his ten-thousand-dollar suit. "No, they didn't. It's in here."