“Yeah, she did. So maybe they crossed there?” Peabody frowned, shrugged. “Maybe. But I’ve got a stash of my own, and a bunch of decorating sites bookmarked on my home comp. Don’t you ever…Forget I nearly asked,” Peabody said when Eve stared at her.
“It’s worth checking out. Running the name by Lissette, showing her Allika’s picture.”
“Okay. Do you want me to tag her now, ask her?”
“Yeah, let’s cross that off the list, then take the master bedroom next.” She walked over. McNab turned. “Anything shaking?” she asked him.
“Steady as they go. A lot of incomings and outgoings, but nothing that pops. Mostly personal data—banking, marketing, schedules, and like that on the main-level units. Nanny’s unit more of the same. Talks to family and pals back in Ireland a couple times a week, e-mails regular. All chatty, little bits on the Straffos and the kid, but nothing that’d make you jump.”
“Keep looking.”
It didn’t take long for Eve to discern that both Straffos preferred good fabrics in classic cuts—and plenty of it. The his and hers closets were spacious and pristine, and loaded.
Shoes were organized according to type and tone and all in clear protective boxes. Wardrobe was color-coordinated into groupings. Casual, work, cocktail, black-tie. The more formal wear hung with ID tags that described the outfit, when and where it had been worn.
If they liked sex toys, those playthings had been smuggled out before the warrant was executed. The nightstand drawers held book discs, memo cubes, minilights.
But there was some very provocative lingerie in Allika’s dresser, and a varied selection of body creams and oils. Since there’d been a reminder in Allika’s date book to renew her semiannual birth control, sex was likely part of the regularly scheduled events.
She found antianxiety and antidepression medication, and sleeping pills in Allika’s underwear drawer.
Eve took a sample of each medication, bagged it.
“Lissette didn’t recognize Allika’s name or image,” Peabody reported.
“Long shot.”
“Yeah. Dallas, I know we’re not supposed to get wound up in the personal areas of an investigation, but that woman, Lissette, just breaks my heart. She asked, the way they do, if we had anything new, anything we could tell her. I had to give her the standard line. She took it.” Sympathy, all those personal feelings an investigator is supposed to block out, resonated in her voice, on her face. “Held on to it like it was the only thing keeping her head above water right now.”
“Then we’d better follow through on the line, Peabody, and give her the answers she needs.”
Leaving Peabody, Eve headed down to find either one of the Straffos. He was pacing, talking on a headset, while she pretended to be absorbed in a magazine. The minute he spotted Eve, Straffo ended the transmission.
“Finished?”
“No. You’ve got a big place. Takes time. There’s a safe in the master bedroom closet. I need it opened.”
His lips tightened, just a little, and before Allika could rise, he waved her down. “I’ll see to it,” he told her. Then looked at Eve again. “Have you completed your business on the third floor?”
“It’s clear.”
“Allika, why don’t you have Cora take Rayleen up to the family room when they get back?”
“All right.”
He stopped, and Eve saw something in him soften as he touched a hand to her shoulder. She thought, Okay, he loves his wife. What does that mean?
He didn’t speak until they were far enough up the steps to be out of his wife’s hearing. “How would you feel, I wonder, to have your home turned inside out this way, your personal things pawed over?”
“We try not to paw. We’ve got two bodies, Straffo, both of whom you knew, one of whom was your client.” She sent him a look, let a little sarcasm leak into it. “Tough way to lose a client, by the way.”
“A foolish way to dismiss one,” he countered. “And yes, I knew them both—casually. Maybe you’re theorizing that I’m annoyed with Rayleen’s academic program, and I’m working my way one by one through her instructors.”
“Maybe I’m wondering why you took a lowlife like Williams as a client. If I knew that, we might have avoided this.”
“I’m a defense attorney.” His tone was as cool and flat as hers. “My client list isn’t always the bright lights of the city.”
“You got that. We all do what we do, Straffo.”