“If he’s not home, we’ll canvass the neighborhood, so that’ll be a walk.”
Not so many tourists on this stretch, she noted. Mostly the after-work crowd, heading home. Almost all residential, pretty townhomes all in a row, some with window boxes or pots of flowers, some with fancy grids on the windows.
Mosebly’s didn’t particularly stand out. He had flowers, a lot of purple and red and trailing green spilling out of window boxes that gleamed copper.
The whitewashed brick had a soft look, offset by a bold red door and a stylized copper heart as a door knocker.
“Palm plate, code scanner, cam, solid locks. One-way glass on the windows. He can see out, you can’t see in.”
She stepped onto the stoop, one painted to resemble a mat. The scrolled red letters read:
Always Welcome!
“We’ll see about that,” she grumbled, and pressed the bell. “He’s got a full basement under here. Corner lot. And from the windows, he could actually have watched Elder walk to work. He could have watched her from the comfort of his own home.”
“You’re leaning heavily in his direction.”
The house, the location—those pieces fit clean and snug.
“I’m looking at the setup here, and I’m leaning.”
Mosebly opened the door. He still wore his baggy jeans and polo, but had changed into house skids. Hope shined from his face.
“Lieutenant! You found Mary Kate.”
“No, Mr. Mosebly, we’re actively looking. We’d like to come in for a few minutes. I have some follow-up questions.”
Even as the hope dimmed, he stepped back. “Of course, of course, please. It’s nice to finally meet you.” He held out a hand for Roarke’s. “I’ve admired your work, and especially the school you’ve just opened.”
“Thank you.”
“Ah.” Mosebly brushed a hand at his flyaway hair. “Come in, sit down. Can I get you something to drink?”
“We’re fine,” Eve said, and saw why Covino worked well with him.
His living area, both simple and attractive, had nothing out of place. No single-man debris, no clutter. A conversation area, a semicircle sofa in pale gray, a pair of cushy armchairs in a subtle pattern of the same gray with hints of blue, centered around a whitewashed fireplace currently full of flowers and candles.
On the slim mantel over it stood more candles—slim white tapers in squat and colorful blown-glass holders—a photo in a dark gray leather frame of a man and woman holding hands in front of a white, steepled church, and some sort of earth-toned pottery vase or urn.
A rug that looked old and valuable lay over the polished floors.
Mosebly gestured to the chairs, then took a seat on the end of the sofa.
“I’d so hoped you’d found her. I know how hard you’re working to do just that. I hadn’t read The Icove Agenda—so distressing—but after meeting you today, I downloaded it. I’ve only just begun, really, but I understand you’re very good at your work. How can I help?”
“You and Mary Kate are close.”
“Yes, we’re a close-knit group at Dowell’s. It makes it a pleasure to go to work every day.”
“And you often took her, and others, out socially—to celebrate, for instance, a successful campaign.”
“That’s right. Team leaders often do, and we try to gather socially as a full team—the Dowell team.”
“I wonder if you brought Mary Kate, or others, to venues here, in this neighborhood, for those social interactions.”
“Yes, now and then.”
“Here, to your home?”
“Yes. No point in having a home you enjoy and not sharing it.”
Eve took out her ’link, brought up Elder’s photo ID.
“Do you know this woman?”
He took the ’link, frowned over it a moment, then let out a gasp. “This is the young woman who was killed. I saw the reports, saw this photo. It was so upsetting, I turned it off.”
“Have you ever seen her before the reports?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Have you ever been in Arnold’s—it’s a bar in the neighborhood.”
“Yes, I know it. A few times, but it’s a little … stiff, I want to say.”
Eve took the ’link back, brought up Hobe.
“How about this woman?”
“I don’t know that I’ve— Oh yes! Yes, I recognize her. Mike’s Place, such a good voice. Anne, Annie?”