“It’s a line to tug on.”
“I can send you all the e-mails, the itinerary, everything. I sent it to the detectives before, but—”
“I know. I have it.” And would study it again now. “That’s the third time your ’link’s signaled since I’ve been here,” Eve pointed out. “You’re not going to answer?”
“I’ll catch up.”
“Do you usually answer?”
“Not when I’m with a client—or talking to the top cop in New York. And I always return contacts quickly.”
“But otherwise. Say you’re working with a vendor or setting something up, helping coordinate an event.”
“Sure.”
“And say if the tag was to confirm a booking, switch something, add something, you’d deal with it right then.”
“Usually.”
“Or if you’re out with friends, on a date?”
“A date, I’d excuse myself, take the tag if I felt I needed to. Out with friends, I’d check the readout, take it if I needed to. So I might have easily said something about this trip, at least some of the details, in front of someone else.” She pressed her hand to her belly. “I feel sick.”
“None of this is your fault or responsibility. Even if the information got passed to the assailant in this way. Any more than it would be Ira’s for mentioning his plans when he was in the barber’s chair or Lori’s if she talked about it over a lunch date with a friend. He had an agenda, and he found a way to get the information he needed.”
The buzzer sounded. “That I should get.”
Lilia rose, went to the intercom. “Yo.”
“Ms. Dominick?”
“Another yo.”
“This is Detective Peabody.”
“Tell her I’ll be right down,” Eve said.
“Detective, Lieutenant Dallas says she’ll be right down.”
“Thanks. I’ll wait.”
Eve got to her feet.
“Is there anything else I can do?” Lilia asked. “Anything?”
“You move in the various worlds. The client, the vendors, the staff, the friends, the events, and the parties. Give it all some thought, see if anything or anyone starts to float to the surface. Something out of step, a little off, anyone just a little bit too curious.”
“I will. Believe me, I will.”
Eve went downstairs, found Peabody on the sidewalk, face upturned to the snow with a goofy smile. Jesus, a cheerful optimist.
“Don’t make me hurt you.”
“Hey. It’s so pretty.”
“It’s cold, it’s wet, and it makes many, many people behind the wheels of vehicles behave like morons.” She jerked her thumb. “We’re this way.”
“How’d it go with the border collie?”
“She’s smart, personable, efficient. And she’s really fond of Lori Brinkman. It came through. She also worked behind the scenes on Daphne’s wedding.”
“Oh, boy, that’s a big bell ringing.”
“They talk,” Eve continued as they walked. “The vendors, the coordinators, the servers, and so on. Shoptalk. Easy, so easy for little details to get passed along. When and where, how many, and like that. He knows how to listen, knows how to pick up tidbits. Maybe he was smart enough to stalk Lilia, too, and pick up those tidbits. Maybe he hacks her ’link or comp—he could have those skills. No real security on her building or apartment. Basic stuff. He could’ve gotten in there, gone through the files, found what he wanted that way. Lots of ways.”
“Do you think he knows her—she knows him?”
“I think she brushes up against an awful lot of people doing what she does. I think it’s a pretty good bet he was there at the Celebrate Art Gala, and he started selecting his targets.”
“All three.”
“Oh, I don’t think he stopped at three. All those women. Plenty of remarkably beautiful women, I’m damn sure, who happened to be married. Plenty of very rich couples who fit his requirements. And however many he might have earmarked that night, he’s had other nights, other opportunities. One way or the other, he moves in that world.”
When they reached the car, she got behind the wheel. “Either nobody notices him—staff—or he’s one of them. Either way, he’s in a position to select targets and pull out the information on them that he needs.”
She glanced in the rearview before pulling out, watched a car take the corner too fast, fishtail, barely miss spinning into an oncoming car, which swerved and spun as its driver overcompensated.
“Snow,” Eve grumbled, pulling out. She glanced at the address Peabody plugged into the in-dash. “That’s Roarke’s building.”