“That’s right.”
Becca adjusted her cap. “She flashed that barracuda smile plenty, and butter wouldn’t melt. But she tried pumping me for gossip on other residents, and guests, too. Tried to bribe me for it.”
“How much?”
Becca’s mouth twisted in a sneer. “A hundred a p
op for anything she could use on air. Double that if she could make a special out of it. She didn’t like when I turned her down—I’m not going to compromise the privacy of the people in my building. And I wouldn’t with hers, either, except…”
“Police investigation.”
“Yeah, that. After I turned her down—and I know Luke and Gio did, too—they’re on the door, day shifts—she stiffed me. Us. Not another tip out of her. You turned her down, Rox.”
“I had to.” The lobby clerk bit her lip again. “You’re supposed to accommodate the residents, but golly, that’s against the rules. I could lose my job. Plus, you know, it’s just not nice.”
“Did she ever threaten either of you?”
“She filed a complaint against me.” Becca’s jaw tightened. “She didn’t get anywhere with it. I had to talk to the manager about it, but I had a couple dozen resident commendations against her one complaint. And I told the manager about the bribe. Luke and Gio backed me up there. Roxie, too.”
Now Becca smiled—showing a little barracuda herself. “I think the manager had a talk with Ms. Mars after because she never gave me any more trouble. I’m sorry she’s dead—a person doesn’t deserve to die for being half a bitch. But I’m not sorry she’s not going to be in residence.”
“Okay. I appreciate the cooperation. If you’d clear us up.”
“Sure, right away. I have to log in to make a copy of her swipes. It’ll only take a minute.”
“I’ve got a master,” Eve said. And a master B and E man if I need one.
“Oh, okay. Elevator three will take you up to her main entrance. Fifty-second floor. Penthouse.”
“Got it.”
With Roarke she walked to and into a gold—natch—elevator.
“Interesting,” Roarke said.
“Not a bit surprising. You don’t own this place.”
“Why do you assume that?”
“The doorwoman didn’t recognize you. Lobby clerk did, but just because you’re rich and frosty. Plus, that lobby is really ugly. You wouldn’t have a really ugly lobby.”
“I appreciate your confidence. I wouldn’t term it ugly as much as obsessively tacky.”
“Whichever. I’ll have to run this Mitchell Day, have a chat with him.”
“That’s Mitch L., initial L., Day.”
“Seriously?”
Roarke nodded as the elevator doors opened. “He hosts a late-morning talk show.”
Mystified, Eve shook her head. “Why do people watch shows where other people sit around and talk?”
“There are some who actually enjoy conversations. I know that’s a shock to you.”
“If you’re watching on screen, you’re not even having a conversation. You’re more eavesdropping.” She pulled out her master, frowned in consideration. “Huh. Okay, I get that.”
“Of course you do.”