The In Death Collection Books 16-20 - J. D. Robb [462]
“Can we come in, Mrs. Vanderlea?”
“Yes, of course. I’m confused. When they called from downstairs and said the police wanted to see me, my first thought was something happened to Luther. But I’d have gotten a call from Madrid, wouldn’t I?” She smiled, uncertainly. “Nothing’s happened to Luther, has it?”
“We’re not here about your husband. This concerns Elisa Maplewood.”
“Elisa? Well, she’s in bed at this hour. Elisa can’t be in any trouble.” She folded her arms. “What’s this about?”
“When did you last see Ms. Maplewood?”
“Right before I went to bed. About ten. I went to bed early. I had a headache. What is this?”
“I’m sorry to tell you, Mrs. Vanderlea, but Ms. Maplewood is dead. She was killed earlier tonight.”
“That—that’s just ridiculous. She’s in bed.”
The simplest, cleanest way, Eve knew, was not to argue. “You may want to check on that.”
“It’s nearly four in the morning. Of course she’s in bed. Her suite is back here, off the kitchen.”
She swept away, through the spacious living area, furnished in what Eve recognized as antiques. A lot of gleaming wood and curved lines, deep colors, complex patterns and sparkling glassware. It flowed into a media room, with the wall screen recessed, and the game and communication center housed in some sort of cabinet. Armoire, she corrected. That’s what Roarke called those big-ass cabinets.
A dining room angled off to the side, with the kitchen behind it.
“I’d like you to wait here, please.”
Snippy now, Eve noted. Irritated and afraid.
Mrs. Vanderlea opened a set of wide pocket doors and walked into what Eve assumed was Elisa Maplewood’s personal area.
“This place is huge,” Peabody whispered.
“Yeah, lots of space, lots of stuff.” She looked around the kitchen. Everything was silver and black. Dramatic, efficient, and so clean she doubted even a team of sweepers would come up with a single mote of dust.
It wasn’t that different a setup than the one in Roarke’s house. She didn’t think of the kitchen as hers. That was Summerset’s province, and she was more than happy to let him rule there.
“I’ve met her before.”
Peabody glanced back from her ogling of the massive AutoChef. “You know Vanderlea?”
“Met them, don’t know them. One of the ‘dos’ I got dragged to. Roarke knows them. I didn’t place the name, who the hell can remember all those people? But her face clicked.”
She turned as Mrs. Vanderlea hurried back into the room. “She’s not there. I don’t understand. She’s not in her room, or anywhere in her suite. Vonnie’s sleeping. Her daughter, her little girl. I don’t understand.”
“Does she often go out at night?”
“No, of course she—Mignon!” With this, she dashed back into Elisa’s suite.
“Who the hell is Mignon?” Eve muttered.
“Maybe Maplewood switched to girls. Might have a lover.”
“Mignon’s not here.” Deann was sheet-white now, and her fingers trembled as she held them to her throat.
“Who is—”
“Our dog.” She spoke quickly, the words jumping out of her mouth. “Really Elisa’s dog, emotionally. A little teacup poodle I bought a few months ago—for company, for the girls, but Mignon bonded with Elisa. She—she probably took her for a walk. She often does that the last thing at night. She took the dog for a walk. Oh, God. Oh, my God.”
“Mrs. Vanderlea, why don’t you sit down? Peabody, some water.”
“Was there an accident? Oh God, was there an accident?” There weren’t tears, not yet, but Eve knew there would be.
“No, I’m sorry, it wasn’t an accident. Ms. Maplewood was attacked, in the park.”
“Attacked?” She said it slowly, as if the word were foreign. “Attacked?”
“She was murdered.”
“No. No.”
“Drink a little water, ma’am.” Peabody pressed the glass she’d poured into Deann’s hands. “Sip a little water.”
“I can’t. I can’t. How can this be? We were just talking, a few hours ago. We were sitting right here. She told me to take a blocker and go to bed. And I did. We . . . the girls were tucked in for the night, and she made me tea and told me to go to bed. How did this happen? What happened?”
No, Eve thought. It wasn’t the time