“Go home, get out, scram. Both of you.”
“See you tomorrow. Party!” Peabody did a quick jig in her pink boots, then dashed.
Alone, Eve turned the disc in her hand. It would wait, she thought, until home.
It wasn’t much of a detour, and Eve wanted to tie off, or at least shorten, as many loose ends as she could manage before the party, the weekend, the whole crazy Christmas extravaganza sucked up any time for work and reality.
Once she parked, she joined the sidewalk traffic—those headed home, those headed out, those hauling shopping bags and likely on a self-imposed forced march to another retail outlet where they could accumulate more shopping bags.
Thank tiny birthday Jesus she was done with that part.
The Schubert townhouse sat within spitting distance of Martella’s sister’s brownstone. Still, the relatively short distance put it in a more active section where Eve imagined street artists set up during the day, and the snug outdoor spaces a few restaurants boasted likely did yeoman’s duty in good weather.
An actual human voice responded to Eve when she buzzed at the door.
“May I help you?”
“Lieutenant Eve Dallas, NYPSD, to speak with Martella or Lance Schubert.”
“One moment please, Lieutenant.”
It took hardly more before a woman with toffee-colored skin and icy blue eyes opened the door. She wore her golden brown hair in dozens of thin braids all gathered into a tail, and made simple black pants and white shirt look glamorous.
“Please come in, Lieutenant. I’m Catiana Dubois, Mrs. Schubert’s social secretary. May I take your coat?”
“I’ve got it.”
“If you’ll come with me.” She led the way left through the foyer—everything bright and fresh with those tall-stemmed red flowers Eve couldn’t remember the name of grouped together in abundance on a long table—into a spacious sitting room with more bright and fresh in bold colors, silvery trim, and a tiny fireplace simmering in the wall.
The tree centered in the window. Angels flew on its branches and shimmered in its tiny white lights. Under it, elegantly wrapped gifts, artistically arranged, added more color.
“The Schuberts will be right down. Can I offer you something? Coffee or tea—or hot cider?”
The cider sounded tempting, but she hoped to make it quick. “No, thanks.”
“Please sit, be comfortable. It’s a lovely picture, isn’t it?” Catiana said as she noticed Eve studying the image of Martella in miles of frothy bridal white caught in the arms of a striking man in formal black.
“Great-looking couple.”
“They are. And still very much like the newlyweds you see there. Lieutenant, I don’t know if it’s appropriate or necessary, but I’d like to tell you I knew Trey Ziegler. Not well,” she added quickly when Eve turned to her. “Part of my benefits is a membership to Buff Bodies. I didn’t work with Mr. Ziegler. I don’t use a trainer, but I attend some classes when I can juggle them in, and I often use the facilities in the early morning or after work. So I knew him, a little.”
“Did you ever sleep with him?”
Catiana winced. “You’re direct. But I suppose that’s best. No. He didn’t appeal to me in that way, which from what I sensed was the exception rather than the rule. I didn’t like him, and I didn’t like that he hit on me—subtly, but unmistakably. Maybe someone else would have taken his offer of a free trial as a trainer as a courtesy, or a way to drum up business, but to me, it felt too . . . suggestive. I can’t say he crossed any lines, but he brushed awfully close to them—for me. And when he brushed too close for my personal comfort, I told him to piss off.”
“You’re direct.”
Catiana smiled. “I can be. I tried to be both firm and discreet, but I thought I should tell you in case I wasn’t as discreet as I assumed. He didn’t like my reaction, and when one of the women I often took a class with asked me out—and my reaction was surprise, she was embarrassed, and told me the word was I preferred women. It happens I don’t, and it was easy to trace the rumor’s source.”
“To Ziegler.”
“Yes. I let it go. It didn’t matter to me. I wasn’t looking to start any sort of romantic or sexual relationship at my gym, so it didn’t matter. And he left me alone. I assume he believed the only reason I turned him down was because I was inclined toward women. But then . . .”
She trailed off as Martella and her husband came in.
“I don’t want to hold you up. Can I get you anything before I go?” she asked Martella.
“Why don’t you finish it off?” Eve looked at Catiana, then her employers. “Any problem with that?”