Strangers In Death

“Good.” Greta gave a brisk, self-congratulatory nod. “Then I contacted Mrs. Anders, and waited for the police to come. They came in, perhaps, five or six minutes. I took the two officers upstairs, then one brought me back down to the kitchen, and waited here with me until you stepped in.”

“I appreciate the details. Can you tell me who has the security codes to the house?”

“Mr. and Mrs. Anders and myself. The codes are changed every ten days.”

“No one else has the codes? A good friend, another employee, a relative?”

Greta shook her head, decisively. “No one else has the codes.”

“Mrs. Anders is away.”

“Yes. She left on Friday for a week in St. Lucia with some female friends. This is an a

“You contacted her.”

“Yes.” Greta shifted slightly. “I realize, after thinking more clearly, I should have waited, and the police would have notified Mrs. Anders. But…they’re my employers.”

“How did you contact her?”

“Through the resort. When she goes on holiday, she often shuts off her pocket ’link.”

“And her reaction?”

“I told her there had been an accident, that Mr. Anders was dead. I don’t think she believed me, or understood me initially. I had to repeat it twice, and I felt, under the circumstances, I couldn’t tell her when she asked what kind of accident. She said she would come home immediately.”

“Okay, Greta. You have a good relationship with the Anderses?”

“They are very good employers. Very fair, very correct.”

“How about their relationship, with each other? It’s not gossip,” Eve said, reading Greta perfectly. “It’s very fair, and it’s very ‘correct’ for you to tell me any and everything you can that may help me find out what happened to Mr. Anders.”

“They seemed very content to me, very well suited. It would be my impression that they enjoyed each other, and their life together.”

Enjoying each other wasn’t what the crime scene transmitted, Eve thought. “Did either, or both of them, have relationships outside the marriage?”

“You mean sexual. I couldn’t say. I manage the house. I’ve never seen anything in the house that would lead me to believe either, or both, engaged in adulterous affairs.”

“Can you think of anyone who’d want him dead?”

“No.” Greta eased back slowly. “I thought-I assumed-that someone had broken in to steal, and that Mr. Anders was killed by the thief.”

“Have you noticed anything missing or out of place?”

“No. No. But I haven’t looked.”

“I’m going to have you do that now. One of the officers will take you around.” She glanced over as Peabody came in. “ Peabody, get one of the uniforms. I want Mrs. Horowitz escorted while she looks around the house. You’re free to go afterward,” Eve told Greta. “If you’d give my partner or me the contact information where you’ll be.”

“I prefer to stay, until Mrs. Anders arrives, if this is allowed. She may need me.”

“All right then.” Eve rose, signaling the end to the initial interview. “Thanks for your cooperation.”

As Greta went out, Eve walked to the room off the kitchen. Inside two droids, disengaged, stood. One male, one female, both uniformed and dignified in appearance. The security screens Greta had spoken of ranged over a wall, and as she’d stated, the master bedroom camera showed only the sitting area.

“ Dallas?”

“Huh?”

“House security was disengaged at two twenty-eight, reengaged at three twenty-six.”

Eve turned to frown at Peabody. “Reengaged before TOD?”

“Yeah. All security discs for the twenty-four-hour period before the security was reset are gone.”

“Why, I’m shocked. We’ll get EDD in here to see if they can dig something out. So Anders’s night visitor left him hanging, and still alive. That doesn’t sound like sex games gone wrong.”

“No,” Peabody agreed. “Sounds like murder.”

Eve pulled out her communicator when it signaled. “ Dallas.”

“Sir, Mrs. Anders just got here. Should I bring her in?”

“Bring her straight back to the kitchen.” Eve switched off. “Okay, let’s see what the widow has to say.”

Turning back to the screens, she watched Ava Anders sweep through the front door, her sable coat swinging back from a slim body dressed in deep blue. Her hair, a delicate blond, was pulled severely back from a face of high planes. Fat pearl drops swung at her ears, shaded glasses masked her eyes as she crossed the wide, marble foyer, through ornate archways, in ski

Eve stepped back into the kitchen, took her seat at the su

“Lieutenant Dallas, NYPSD. Homicide.”

“Homicide? What do you mean ‘Homicide’?” She pulled off her sunglasses, revealing eyes as blue and deep as her suit, tossed them onto the counter. “Greta said there’d been an accident. Tommy was in an accident. Where’s my husband? Where’s Greta?”

Eve got to her feet. “Mrs. Anders, I’m sorry to tell you your husband was killed this morning.”

Ava stood where she was, her eyebrows drawing together, her breath coming in short little bursts. “Killed. Greta said…but I thought.” She braced a hand on the counter, then slowly walked over to sit. “How? Did he…did he fall? Did he get sick, or…”

Always best to stab quick and clean, Eve thought. “He was strangled in his bed.”

Ava lifted a hand, pressed it to her mouth. Lifted the other to cross it over the first. Those deep blue eyes filled, and the tears spilled as she shook her head.

“I’m sorry, but I need to ask you some questions.”

“Where’s Tommy?”

“We’re taking care of him now, Mrs. Anders.” Peabody stepped over, offered a glass of water.

She took the water, and when one hand shook, gripped the glass with both. “Someone broke in? I don’t see how that can be. We’re secure, we’re very secure here. Fifteen years. We’ve been here for fifteen years. We’ve never had a break-in.”

“There weren’t any signs of a break-in.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Whoever killed your husband either knew the security code, or was given access to the house.”

“That can’t be.” Ava waved a hand in quick dismissal. “No one other than Tommy and myself and Greta has the code. Surely you’re not suggesting Greta-”

“I’m not, no.” Though she’d be doing a thorough check on the house manager. “There wasn’t a break-in, Mrs. Anders. Thus far there’s no sign anything in the house was taken, or disturbed.”

Ava laid a hand between her breasts where a rope of luminous pearls rested. “You’re saying Tommy let someone in, and they killed him. But that doesn’t make sense.”

“Mrs. Anders, was your husband involved with someone, sexually or romantically?”

She turned away immediately, first her face, then her body. “I don’t want to talk about this now. I’m not going to talk about this now. My husband is dead.”

“If you know anyone who could gain access to the house, to his bedroom-while you were out of the country-it could tell us who killed your husband, and why.”

“I don’t know. I don’t. And I can’t think about something like that.” The anger slapped out at Eve. “I want you to leave me alone. I want you out of my house.”

“That’s not going to happen. Until we clear it, this house is part of a homicide investigation. Your husband’s bedroom is a crime scene. I suggest you make arrangements to stay elsewhere for the time being, and to stay available. If you don’t want to finish this now, we’ll finish it later.”

“I want to see my husband. I want to see Tommy.”

“We’ll arrange that as soon as possible. Do you want us to contact anyone for you?”

“No.” Ava looked out the su