Perkins house. It was easy to pick out because it still had yellow police tapes around it. Exhilarated from the exercise of a power walk across a soggy city, she congratulated herself on making good time. Then she took a moment to let the architecture of the block speak to her.
The Perkins house had a new facade that screamed modem and filthy rich. In stark contrast, the Anderson brownstone with its original steep stairs leading to a dark second-floor entrance, and spiderweb of cracked muddy- colored exterior, looked ripe for renovation. Eloise walked the block once and tried Barry's cell one more time. He still wasn't picking up. She left a message telling him where she was and to meet her there ASAP. Then she climbed the stairs and rang the bell. She felt woefully unprepared and was sorry about all the things she hadn't asked Jo Ellen Anderson the day before. It had been clear from the look of her, and her manner, that she wasn't married, but did she live alone? Did she have a housekeeper or companion? Eloise breathed a sigh of relief when a woman opened the door almost immediately: young—mid-twenties. Long red hair. She was a very pretty girl.
'Hi,I'm Sergeant Gelo from the police. Is Miss Anderson at home?' she said.
'No. She's at work.' The girl had a sulky voice and sounded put out at the intrusion.
'And you're?'
'I'm Leah. I do the cleaning.' Then the sullen look vanished when the girl smiled. 'You don't look like a cop.'
Eloise relaxed a little with the familiar response. 'What's a cop supposed to look like?'
'Mean. Do you have a gun?'
Usually Eloise didn't like it when someone asked about her gun. A cop couldn't be too careful about letting someone get close to his weapon. But it didn't alarm her now. She felt very much in control of the situation. 'Leah, do you come here every day?' she asked.
'No, I live here.'
'Great. I'd like to talk to you a little, and look around.'
Leah hung on to the door. 'What are you looking for?' she asked.
'There was a homicide here yesterday. Didn't you talk to the police about it?'
'No.'
'You didn't?' Eloise was surprised.
'No, Miss Anderson told me not to open the door to strangers.'
'You opened the door for me,' she pointed out.
Leah smiled. 'Well, you're cute. What do you want to know? I'll talk to you.'
Eloise was used to flirtation. A lot of people were attracted to her—girls, guys, animals. It didn't mean Leah was a lesbian. Although the thought did cross her mind briefly, she wasn't alarmed by it. The girl looked like a lot of young people she knew—slightly disaffected, eccentrically dressed. She was using a man's tie for a belt on her jeans. On top was a man's vest from an old suit. The vest wasn't buttoned, and a watch chain held the two sides together. Under it, her bra showed. On her wrists a number of sparkly bracelets looked like diamonds. They caught Eloise's eye right away.
'What do you want to know?'
Eloise didn't answer. She looked into the front hall. It was narrow and dark. Stairs hugged the wall on the right. The only daylight filtered in from somewhere way in the back.
'Is anyone one here with you?'
'No,' Leah said. 'No one ever comes here. Jo Ellen doesn't like visitors.'
'Why not?'
Leah shrugged. 'She's old,' she replied as if that was a reason.
Eloise had a million questions for this girl whom all the other detectives seemed to have overlooked. Maybe she didn't know anything, but maybe she did. Eloise hesitated. She had no way of knowing if the girl was alone, or what she might find in the house. The best idea was to remove her and question her somewhere else. But she didn't have a car to put her in, didn't have backup. She hadn't expected anyone to be here and hadn't thought things through.
'Come on in. I never get visitors,' Leah said, suddenly welcoming. 'It's so boring here, and I'm not supposed to leave.'
'Why not?' Right away Eloise was sucked in.
'Jo Ellen's rules.' Leah shrugged again. 'We have some cool stuff in here. I bet you'd like to see it.'
Eloise sure would. She wondered where the bracelets came from and thought she could find out a whole lot of things. All her years of training prohibited this kind of solo act, but she wasn't thinking about that now. She checked her cell phone. There were no missed calls. No one was looking for her yet. She'd left a message for Barry to meet her here and figured he'd be there within the hour. What could happen before then?
'Okay,' she said, and entered the house with full confidence that she could handle anything.
Forty-nine
You got me out of the bath to come here. What is this about? I already talked to the police.' Jo Ellen Anderson stood in the Anderson Agency parlor in wet rubber boots, looking indignantly from one detective to the other.
April figured that she weighed 180, 190, maybe more. She was a large woman with the kind of straight back and ample figure that earlier generations used to admire. She carried her head way back like some older women did to keep their double chins up and others did out of pride. She was wearing a brown tweed suit and a tan fedora. The raincoat that had covered her outside was gone now. Remembering what Chad had said about a piece of plastic caught in the mop in the Wilson garage, April was eager to take a look at it. The hair prickled on the back of her neck. She had the feeling she was in the presence of a killer.
'I'm Lieutenant Sanchez,' she said, keeping the name simple.
'Oh, a lieutenant now. We're moving up the ranks,' Jo Ellen remarked with a spark of humor. 'What can I do for you?'
'And this is Detective Baum.'
She didn't bother looking at Woody. 'Don't tell me someone else is gone,' she said as if she knew that wasn't the case.
'It must be difficult for you to lose two clients in two days,' April replied.
'Of course it is.' Jo Ellen flung her hands in the air impatiently. 'Two lovely young women, and they were both my friends. It wasn't just business. I talked to them frequently, as I'm sure you know. Better be careful—people spy,' she added, indicating with her index finger the small camera that Woody had detected earlier in one corner of the ceiling.
'Who spies?' April asked.
'The Hunter people, and I don't like it at all,' she scolded as if they were listening at the moment. 'They're probably behind all this. I wouldn't be surprised to learn they'd killed my clients just to get me out.'
Just a little paranoia, April thought. 'Is Hunter the owner of the agency?'
'Yes, and it was a hostile takeover, like the Nazis. My aunt was tricked out of it, and I don't care who knows it.'
'How did it happen?' April had learned a long time ago that people had to tell their stories their own way. Tangents were par for the course.
'They wanted it. Anderson is a name that has ensured quality to four generations of New York's finest,' Jo Ellen said.
April couldn't help noting the irony. 'New York's Finest' was the slogan of the NYPD.
'It was a tragedy. And now this. This is the new corporate thing.' She pointed at the camera again, then regally lowered herself onto the throne chair that showed her back to the camera, while she offered April the seat that faced it. April took out her notebook.
'They can see what people are doing, and hear everything. They say it's for efficiency and training. But I'm wondering, is it legal?' She tilted her head to one side, waiting for an answer.
'Yes, the owners of a company can install surveillance in their own facilities. If there's a camera in the ladies' room, that's a different story.'
'Oh, heaven forbid.' Jo Ellen covered her eyes with a big hand.
