Page 115 of Fury In Death

“Would you mind, Detective?”

“Not a bit.”

She scanned Peabody’s badge, then rose. “This way please.”

She escorted them to an elevator with dull gold doors. When they opened, she used her swipe, pressed a button, then held the doors while they walked in.

“Please let me know if you need any further assistance. I’m on the desk for another hour. If your business takes longer, I’ll inform the desk of your visit before I leave.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re very welcome,” she said as the doors closed.

“Okay, you win the bet.”

“Yay, me! And the car service took O’Brian—though he booked the car as Ian Granger—to a shuttle station in New Jersey.”

Eve rolled her eyes. “And he really thinks that’s covering his tracks.”

“Yep. No Ian Granger booked on a private, but the car took him to the private shuttle area.”

“Forget the name, check the timing.”

They rode up inside smoked-mirrored walls in air that smelled lightly of . . . fresh orange peels, Eve realized.

It was kind of nice.

The elevator opened in a private foyer, white on white on white, with a large painting on each wall over a white bench. The paintings brought in streaks and smears of strong colors.

Eve pressed the buzzer beside the double white doors.

The voice, not a comp, maybe a droid, came through the speakers.

“This is the O’Brian-Dossier residence. We have not cleared up any visitors. Please exit through the doors behind you, or we will contact the police.”

Eve held up her badge. “Don’t bother. We are the police.”

“Please keep your badges visible for scanning. You are verified, Lieutenant Dallas, Detective Peabody. I will inform Ms. Dossier of your arrival.”

It took a few minutes, but the doors opened.

Droid, Eve thought. Distinguished male model, dark hair silvered at the temples. Average height and build in a black suit, white shirt, black tie.

“Ms. Dossier will see you in the living area. Please come in. You’re welcome to sit, as she will be another moment or two. I’m authorized to offer you refreshments. Ms. Dossier requested tea for herself.”

“We’re good, thanks.”

Music played quietly, softly. Since it was some sort of opera, Eve gave thanks for the quietly.

Like the foyer, the spacious living area was white on white on white, the color from art, from pillows, from the bits and bobs on tables, shelves.

A white piano stood at the edge of the wide glass doors so its player would face the room. Outside the doors on the terrace, not white furniture, but all those wild colors in patterns.

Stairs wound up to a second floor. Ellyn Dossier used them to descend. Her dark blond hair cut in a sharp, angled bob suited the sharp, angled face and contrasted with the petite and curvy build. Her eyes, a quiet blue that matched her dress, studied Eve and Peabody as she glided down on short, heeled boots.

Sunlight through the doors and windows caught at the diamonds on her left hand, the rubies at her ears and throat.

“Good afternoon. Please, please sit.”