The in Death Collection Books 11-15 - J. D. Robb [481]
“Another one of Henry’s annoying traits.” Tears shimmered, but she held them back. “He was a logical bastard. Why should we have an upheaval in the firm because the marriage was over? Worked together fine before, didn’t we? In this case, we were in agreement. The fact is we made better business partners than lovers. I don’t know if we were friends. I should probably be asking for my own lawyer by now.” She sighed. “I can’t work up the energy for it.”
“Why would he have been here before office hours?”
“Henry sat down at his desk every blessed morning at seven A.M. Rain, shine, flood, or famine. Whatever else could be said about him, his work ethic was golden. He cared about this firm, about his work, about the law.”
Now her voice caught and she pressed a hand to her mouth. “Damn it. Damn it, damn it.”
“Do you want something? A glass of water?”
“No. I’m not a crier.” She bore down, visibly. “And I also care about the law. I want whoever did this caught and punished. So ask your questions. I can promise you you’ll have full cooperation from everyone in this firm or I’ll skin them.”
“Appreciated.” Eve paused, turned when Peabody stepped in.
“Can I speak to you a minute, Lieutenant?”
“If you’ll hold here, Ms. Fitch.” She shifted to just outside the office door. “What have you got?”
“Julianna Dunne’s fingerprints in the break room. She was here, and she didn’t bother to seal up. I’ve got the discs from security. They’re labeled.”
“Good. Find me the office manager and send her in here when I’m done with Fitch.”
She stepped back inside. “Ms. Fitch, do you know a woman named Julianna Dunne?”
“Dunne? That name sounds familiar.” Her brow furrowed, then arched in surprise. “The Walter Pettibone murder—and the others. I saw the media reports and bulletins. Do you think she . . . but why? How could she just . . .” She did sit now, heavily.
“Have you seen a woman matching her description in or around these offices?”
“No.” Olivia pressed her hands to her face. “I can’t get my head around this.”
“She was here, in your break room. I assume your cleaning service wipes down that area every night.”
“Yes, yes. We have a very good, very thorough service.”
“If that’s the case, she was here this morning. Can I use this?” she asked, gesturing to the computer.
“Yes. Go ahead.”
Eve plugged in the lobby disc. “Do you know what time the cleaning service does this area?”
“They’re scheduled to do this floor between twelve and two A.M.”
Eve programmed the disc to begin its run at two A.M. She zipped through, pausing periodically when someone entered or exited the lobby. Traffic was light, running to weary office drones who’d put in a late shift, maintenance people, and a change of lobby personnel. At oh-six-forty-five, an attractive brunette in a smart business suit strode in and walked straight to the reception desk.
Eve froze the frame, enhanced. “Do you recognize this woman?”
Olivia turned back, studied the image. “No. I don’t recall seeing her before. There are a number of offices and companies in this building. I don’t see how—”
“Look closer. Just the face. Forget the hair.”
There was a flicker of impatience, but Olivia did as she was asked. “I know everyone on this level, and she’s not . . . Wait. My God. That’s Dunne, isn’t it? I didn’t recognize her at first glance.”
“Yeah, most people wouldn’t.”
By noon she had a conference room booked and her team assembled.
“Here’s how it went,” she began. “Julianna forges a firm ID—child’s play—and passes it off to the security guard. Same guard was on duty the day before—six to noon shift—and she signed in as Janet Drake, clerical temp for Mouton, Carlston, and Fitch at eight-forty-three on that date. Made a point in giving him a big, flirty smile and making some small talk so he’d remember her when she came in this morning. Walks in early,” Eve continued, gesturing to the disc running on-screen. “Bops right on up to the main floor of the firm. We’ve got her until she walks into the offices. Eight minutes later, we have Mouton following the same route.