“Good target, since that’s where he lives. I feel there’s another way. Like doing a search on former female employees who have either quit or been fired. Wouldn’t it be fun if we found some who had a story about leaving his employ due to his sexual treatment of them?”
Peabody said nothing for nearly thirty seconds. “Dallas, Lieutenant, sir, you are my hero. I am mentally kissing you on the mouth.”
“Keep it in your head or my boot meets your ass.”
“It might be worth it, but my admiration at this moment is too deep to cause your wrath. Can I do it, please, please? I can ask McNab to help. Off duty. Our own time.”
“It’s all yours. What do you suppose she packed in here?” Eve wondered when they reached the street. “It weighs a freaking ton.”
“Oh shit, and I didn’t even offer to carry it.”
“So noted.” She pulled up the handle, pushed the case at Peabody. “Take it to the car, seal it, log it. Contact Covino’s boss, tell them we’re coming in. I’ll stop by the market and talk to Zel if he’s there.”
He was, and as upset and cooperative as his grandmother. But he couldn’t add anything. Still, Eve left a card and a request to contact her if they remembered anything or anyone.
They hit the marketing firm next.
Eve found a high-energy atmosphere in the converted warehouse. Lots of open space with splashes and slashes of color in contrast, likely deliberate, with the industrial framework. She might have equated the sound and movement to EDD, except the denizens weren’t dressed like circus performers.
What passed as the lobby area looked more like a loungy living area in someone’s upscale home. Sofas, chairs, tables arranged in conversational groups, a bar area offering choices of water and soft drinks, coffees, teas, lent an air—certainly deliberate—of casual hospitality.
A man and a woman worked at the counter, chatting away on earbuds. The woman said, “Hold please,” and tapped hers as Eve and Peabody approached. “Hi! How can I help you?”
Eve held up her badge, and the woman hopped up before she could speak.
“You’re here about M.K. Is she okay? Sly! It’s about M.K.”
Her coworker’s eyes widened as he ended the call. “Is she okay?”
“We haven’t located Ms. Covino. We’d like to see her work space and speak to her immediate supervisor.”
“I’ll take you right up. I’ve got this, Andi. We only heard about her being missing a little while ago.”
He led them to a freight elevator. Eve looked longingly at the iron steps leading up to the open upper floors, but got in.
“Were you and Ms. Covino friends?”
“We’re all friends here. We all thought she was at the beach for a few days with her boyfriend.”
“Has anyone come in asking about or for her?”
“Her roommate, Cleo, called this morning, and a detective from the police a little while ago.”
“Before that. In the last few weeks?”
“No. I mean, clients, accounts, that sort of thing. Her sister, her brother, or her mom or dad drop in now and again. And Cleo—her roommate—sometimes. Linny’s chill with family or friends visiting.”
The elevator door clanked open into spacious work areas. No cubes so staff mixed and mingled as they worked. Offices had doors open. Sly led them to one with a corner view.
The woman behind the desk had her feet, clad in red sneaks, on it and her eyes on a screen where what looked like a family of four enjoyed a rollicking breakfast.
“Linny, sorry, the police are here.”
“Hold vid.” Linny swung her feet off the desk, rose to a good six feet in height.
She wore her ink-black hair in a skullcap, had a tiny red stud winking on the right side of her nose and enormous silver hoops in her ears.
She thrust out a hand. “Linny Dowell, thank you so much for coming. I’ve got this, Sly, thanks. And close the door.” The minute it did, her brisk welcome turned to fear. “I recognize you. Mary Kate … please say it fast.”
“Ms. Dowell, we haven’t located Mary Kate. We’re here because her possible abduction may be connected to another case.”
“She’s not dead. You’re not here because she was murdered?”
“The NYPSD is actively looking for her.”
“All right.” She pressed her fingers to her eyes a moment. “When I saw you … Roarke Industries is the Holy Grail of any marketing firm, so I recognized you, and thought … Please sit down. Can I get you some coffee, a soft drink?”