Brotherhood in Death (3 page)

It all looked . . . comfortable, and reminded her in some ways of the Miras' house uptown.

“There are viewing stations in several rooms,” Dennis explained as he opened a door off the kitchen. “So my grandparents or the staff could see who was at the door. But this is the main hub.”

He looked at it, gave everything a vague glance. “I'm afraid I'm not very good with complex electronics.”

“Me, either.” But she walked over to where she was damn sure a component should be. “But I can tell you somebody took the whole damn deal—the drive or whatever the hell it is, the discs.”

“Oh dear.”

“Yeah. Who else has access to the house?”

“Besides Edward and myself? The housekeeper—her mother worked for my grandparents for decades, and she's helped us out for several years. She would never—”

“Understood, but I'm going to want her name so I can talk to her.”

“Is it all right if I make tea?” Dr. Mira asked.

“Sure, go ahead. Mr. Mira, I want you to walk me through exactly what happened. The cab dropped you off?”

“Yes. Right out front. I left my briefcase—so careless—but the driver
called me back for it. I was angry and upset. I let myself in. It's a push-pull coming here. The memories are strong and good, but it's hard to know it's not the same, and can't be. I set my briefcase down, and I heard voices.”

“More than one?” Eve prompted.

“Well . . . I think so. I expected to find Edward and the Realtor he'd engaged. I assumed they were talking. I called out to him. I didn't want to startle them. I started back, and when I got to the study, I saw him sitting in Granddad's desk chair. Black eye, the blood. He was frightened. I saw the fear, and I started forward to help him. I must have been struck from behind. It's never happened to me before, but I believe that's what happened.”

“It knocked you out.”

“The injuries are consistent with a strike from a heavy object, back of the skull.” Mira brought Dennis a mug, wrapped his hands around it. “And with his right temple hitting the floor when he fell.”

“I'm not questioning that, Dr. Mira.”

“I know you're not.” She sighed, then leaned into Dennis to gently kiss his bruised temple. “I know you're not.”

“What did you do, Mr. Mira, when you came to?”

“I was disoriented, very confused initially. Edward wasn't there, and though we haven't been on the best of terms in a long time, he would never have left me on the floor that way. I called for him—I think—and I looked. I'm afraid I wandered around the house for a while, still a little confused, until it came to me something terrible had happened to Edward. I contacted Charlotte so she wouldn't worry, and asked her if you could come and look into it all.”

He gave Eve a look with those soft, dreamy eyes that made her want to kiss his temple as Mira had. It mortified her.

“I realize now I should have simply contacted nine-one-one rather than bothering you.”

“This isn't a bother. Are you up to taking a look at the study? Seeing if anything's missing or out of place?”

“Anything I can do.”

When they walked back, she sealed her hands, her feet. “It's better if you don't touch anything. You've already been in there, and through the house, so sealing up's beside the point. But let's keep it to a minimum.”

She paused at the doorway. “So your cousin was in the desk chair. Behind the desk.”

“Yes, he was—oh, not behind it. The chair was in front of the desk.” He frowned a moment. “Why would that be? But, yes, he was sitting in the chair, in front of the desk. On the rug.”

“Okay.” That jibed with her observations. “Hold it a minute.”

She took what she needed from her kit, crouched down to take a swab of the blood from the floorboards, sealed it. Then meticulously swabbed an area of the rug.

She added drops of something from a small bottle to the swab, nodded. “Blood here. Somebody cleaned it up, but you don't get it all with a quick run of household cleaner.”

She bent down, sniffed. “You can still smell it.” She put on microgoggles, peered close. “And if you're looking, you can see it, and the faint pattern where the chair rolled out and back, sat here with weight in it.”

“Edward's weight.”

“Looks that way. Another minute.” She moved behind the desk, started an inch-by-inch exam of the chair.

“They missed some. Just a drop here.” She swabbed again, carefully, leaving enough for the sweepers to take their own sample. “Was he restrained, Mr. Mira?”

“I . . .” He closed his eyes. “I don't think so. I don't think he was. I'm sorry. I'm not at all sure. I was so shocked.”

“Okay. Black eye, bloody mouth. So someone assaulted him, put him in the chair, but out here, more in the center of the room. Scared him
enough to keep him there. A stunner maybe, a knife, a weapon anyway, or the threat of more physical violence.”

She circled the room again. “Voices. So they were talking. Wanted something from him, most likely. But before they can get it, or finish, you come in. You call out, so that gives them time to threaten him to keep it shut, to move out of sight. They don't stun you, if they have a stunner. You stun somebody, it takes a few seconds, and maybe you see them before you go down. Bash from behind. But they don't finish you off, or take you with them. You're not important in this. You're just an inconvenience. But they go to the trouble of cleaning up, putting the chair back behind the desk.

“Why?”

“It's fascinating, the science and art of what you do.”

“What?”

“What you do,” Dennis said, “it's a science, and an art. The observational skills are so polished, and—I think—innate. Sorry, my mind wandered.” He smiled. “You asked why. I think I might understand that. If they knew Edward, they might know me. Some people would say, as my mind will wander, I simply fell and struck my head. And imagined the rest.”

“Some people would be stupid,” Eve said, making him smile. “Anything not here that should be, Mr. Mira, or out of place?”

“We've kept this almost exactly as he left it. My grandfather. Some of what's here comes to me, to my children, to others. But they were content to leave it like this for now. Everything's here. I don't think anything's been taken or moved.”

“All right. You came to the doorway, saw him. You froze for a second—people do. You're focused on your cousin, and you move forward to help him.”

She went to the doorway, paused, took a quick step in. Then scanned the shelves.

She picked up a stone bowl, brilliantly polished, frowned, set it down again. Tested the weight of an award plaque, dismissed it. Then she curled her fingers around the uplifted trunk of large glass elephant in jubilant blues and greens. Had weight, she mused, and that handy grip.

“Dr. Mira?”

Mira moved forward, and like Eve examined the elephant. “Yes, yes, the legs. They're consistent with the wound.”

As Eve got another swab, Mira turned to Dennis. “I will never, this is an oath, never complain about your hard head again.”

“Cleaned it up, but we've got a little blood. Attacker steps back, side of the doorway. This is handy, heavy. You come in,
whack
, down you go. He, she, they—it's going to be they, one to deal with Edward, one to deal with you and the cleanup. So one of them gets rug cleaner, whatever, cleans things up, gets the hard drive, the discs. And they take him, leave you. I'm going to go through the house, make sure they didn't stuff him somewhere—sorry,” she said immediately.

“No, don't be.”

“I'm going to have sweepers come in, go over all this. I can contact Missing Persons, expedite there.”

“Could you . . .”

“Will you take lead on this?” Understanding, Mira took Dennis's hand. “Both of us would feel easier if you remained in charge.”

“Sure, I can clear that. Why don't you go back and sit down, let me get things rolling.”

Eve bagged the elephant, contacted Crime Scene, ordered up some uniforms to canvass. Someone had walked in the house, most likely invited in by Edward Mira. She'd check on this Realtor. And someone had walked back out again, either carrying Edward's body or forcing him to leave with them.

They'd need transportation.

Not a burglary, she thought, and not a straight kidnapping, or why
rough him up first? The chair in the middle of the room struck her as an interrogation.

Somebody wanted something from Edward Mira. Chances were he'd stay alive until they got it.

She went back to the living room. They'd turned on the fire, and sat together on a sofa, drinking tea.

Eve sat on the coffee table facing them, as it made a tighter connection.

“I need some information. The Realtor—name, contact?”

“I have no idea. I'm sorry. The assistant didn't mention it, and I was too upset to ask.”

“Okay, I'll get that from his office. Where's his office?”

“He retired from Congress to create and head a political think tank,” Mira told her. “He has an office in their headquarters, in the Chrysler Building.”

“Prime real estate.”

“Status is very important to Edward,” Dennis said. “His organization, the Mira Institute, takes two floors, and owns a pied-à-terre in East Washington for Edward's use or when one of the other executives needs to be there.”

“Need that address, too, and his home address. I'm going to talk to his wife when I leave here. How was their relationship?”

Dennis glanced at his wife, sighed.

“I'll take this. Mandy is a realist who enjoys the life she leads. She excelled on the campaign trail, continues to excel at fund-raisers and committees. The fact that Edward cheated, often? She considers that part of the whole, and not particularly important, as he's discreet. She's discreet as well, and uses the services of a licensed companion. Both their children are grown, of course, and while each play the game in public, neither have much affection for their parents or the choices their parents have made.”

“The world's made up of all manner of parts, Charlie,” Dennis murmured.

“I'm aware. My professional opinion is Mandy would do nothing to unbalance her world. She would never hurt Edward, and in her way, she's fond of him. In his way, he's both grateful for her contributions to his career, and proud of her standing socially.”

“He'd have enemies.”

“Oh, scores. Politically, as you'd expect.”

“And personally?”

“He can and does charm—it's part of politics, again. He also believes himself right on whatever stand he takes, politically and personally, and that can cause friction. This house is an example,” Mira continued. “Edward decided it needed to be sold, so to him, it will be.”

“He's wrong,” Dennis said quietly, “and it won't be. But that's not important right now. Someone hurt him, and there's been no mention of ransom.” He looked at Eve now. “You haven't mentioned ransom.”

“I'll talk to his wife about that. Mr. Mira, I want you to know I believe everything you've told me. And I don't believe, not for a second, you'd do anything to hurt your cousin. Or anyone.”

“Thank you.”

“But I have to ask what I'm going to ask, or I'm not doing my job. If I'm not doing my job, I'm not helping you.”

“I understand. You need to ask me when I saw Edward last, how things were between us. If keeping this house in the family is so important to me, I might hire someone to frighten him.”

He nodded, set his tea aside. “We saw each other over the holidays. For form, really, I'm sorry to say. Charlotte and I attended a cocktail party at his home. When was that, Charlie?”

“On the twenty-second of December. We only stayed about an hour, as Edward tried to corner Dennis about selling the house.”

“I didn't want to argue, so we left early. He sent me an e-mail shortly
after the first of the year, outlining his reasons, again, and his plan of action.”

“You didn't tell me that, Dennis.”

“You get so angry with him.” Dennis took Mira's hand again. “And there was nothing new in it. I don't like bringing that discord into our home. I answered him briefly that I didn't agree, and intended to keep my promise to our grandfather. When he responded immediately, I knew he was very angry. He would usually wait as if too busy to deal with such matters. But he responded right away, and said he would give me time to be reasonable, and warned he would be forced to take legal action if I insisted on clinging to sentiment. And . . . he claimed there had been no promise, that I—as I tend to do—had mixed things up.”

“The hell with him!”

“Charlie—”

“The hell with him, that coldhearted bastard. I mean it, Dennis!” Outraged fury deepened her color, flashed in her eyes. “If you want to look at someone who'd have wanted to hurt him, look right here.”

“Dr. Mira,” Eve said coolly, “cut it out. I'm going to have EDD access those e-mails. That was your last communication?”

“Yes, it was. I didn't respond. It was a cruel thing to say, and it was a lie. We made a promise.” Eve saw his baffled sorrow as clearly as Mira's outraged fury. “I didn't contact him again until today, but he didn't answer.”

“All right.” She couldn't help herself, and touched a hand to his knee. “You don't mix up anything that's important. I'll find the answers to all this. I promise.”

She rose, grateful when the bell rang. “That's going to be for me. I'm going to put the sweepers on the study first, and I'm going through the house personally. I've got uniforms who'll knock on doors, see if any of the neighbors saw anything. I'm going to have a uniform take you home.”