“No. Sorry. I’m sure the family will make an announcement.”

She followed the direction and found Jake Sloan waiting just outside his office door. He was built like his grandfather, but youth made him lanky. His hair was a dark blond, pulled back in a fat little tail at the nape of his neck. His eyes were a bleak sea foam.

“You’re the one who’s in charge of Natalie and Bick’s murders. Investigating their murders, I mean. I’m Jake Sloan.”

“I’d like to speak to you. Privately.”

“Yeah, come on in. You want something?” he asked as he closed the door behind her.

“No, thanks.”

“I can’t settle.” He paced around a small office with posters in geometric shapes and primary colors on the walls. There were toys on his desk – or what she thought of as toys, in any case. A bright red squeeze ball mocked up like a devil with horns, a cartoon dog on a fat spring, a curly tube that rocked on a string and changed colors with the movements.

He walked to a tiny refreshment area and pulled a bottle of water from a minifriggie.

“I almost didn’t come in today,” he told Eve. “But I couldn’t stand the idea of staying home. Staying alone.”

“You and Natalie knew each other well.”

“We were pals.” His smile was shaky and brief. “Had lunch together a couple days a week maybe, with Bick if he could make it. Gossip in the break room, hang out. We’d go out together a couple of times a month, usually. Nat and Bick, me and whatever girl I was seeing. One girl the last six months.”

He dropped down in his chair. “I’m rambling. You don’t care about any of that.”

“Actually, I do. Do you know anyone who’d want to hurt Natalie?”

“No.” She saw the gleam of tears before he turned his head to stare hard at the image of a blue circle inside a red triangle framed on the wall. “People liked Nat. I don’t understand how this could happen. Her and Bick. Both of them. I keep thinking it’s going to be some awful mistake and she’ll poke her head in the door and say, ‘Skinny latte?’”

He turned back, tried that smile again. “We’d get lattes in the break room.”

“Were you and Natalie ever involved romantically, sexually?”

“Oh, jeez, no. It wasn’t like that.” Spots of color rode on his cheeks now. “Sorry, it’s kind of like thinking about nailing my sister, you know? We just hit it off, day one. Friends, like we’d known each other already. And I don’t guess either of us were what the other was looking for that way. Nat, she was looking for Bick. They were, like, fated, you know? You could just see it. God.”

He propped his elbows on the desk, lowered his head to his hands. “It just makes me sick to think what happened to them.”

“Did she say anything to you about any concerns, any problems? Since you were close, would she have told you if something was bothering her?”

“I’d have thought she would, but she didn’t. And something was.”

Eve zeroed in. “How do you know?”

“Because I knew her. I could see it. But she wouldn’t talk about it. Said she was handling it, not to worry. I teased her that she was getting wedding jitters, going to do a runaway bride, and she played along. But you know, that wasn’t it.” He shook his head. “She was anxious about the details of the wedding, but not getting married, if you get what I mean.”

“So what was it?”

“I think it was an account. I think she was having trouble with one of her accounts.”

“Why?”

“Worked with her door locked a lot the last couple weeks. That wasn’t Nat.”

“Any idea which account?”

He shook his head again. “I didn’t push. All of us have at least a couple of accounts that we can’t discuss with other people in the department. I guess I thought she was losing a big client and trying to put out the fire. Happens.”

He looked away again, back to the blue circle inside the red triangle. “We were all supposed to go out this Saturday. The four of us. I don’t know how they could be dead.”

There was a knock, then the door opened. “Jake. Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Dad.” Jake pushed to his feet. “Ah, this is Lieutenant Dallas, with the police. My father, Randall Sloan.”

“Lieutenant.” Randall took her hand, held it firm. “You’re here about Natalie and Bick. We’re all in…I guess we’re in a daze.”

“You knew them.”

“Yes, very well. It’s such a shock, such a loss. I’ll come back later, Jake. I just wanted to see how you were.”

“It’s all right,” Eve told him. “I’m about done.” She flipped through her memory of the pecking order. “You’re a vice president of the firm.”

“That’s right.”

But not a partner, Eve thought, despite his expensive suit, his glossy looks. “As such, did you have much contact with either victim?”

“Not much, not at the office. Of course, Nat and Bick were friends of my son’s, so I knew them better outside the office than most of our account execs.” Randall moved to his son, laid a hand on Jake’s shoulder. “They were a lovely couple.”

“Did either of them express any concerns to you, inside or outside the office?”

“Why, no.” Randall’s brow furrowed. “They were both excellent at their work, and happy – as far as I know – in their personal lives.”

“I need to ask – it’s routine – about your whereabouts on the night of the murders.”

“I was entertaining clients. Sasha Zinka and Lola Warfield. We had cocktails and dinner at Enchantment downtown, then went on to Club One to hear some jazz.”

“What time did you pack it in for the night?”

“It must have been close to two when we left the club. We shared a cab uptown, I dropped them off. I can’t be sure, but I think it was nearly three when I got home.”

“Thanks.”

“My girlfriend and I were at Pop’s – my grandfather’s,” Jake said when Eve looked at him. “I guess we left there around midnight, twelve-thirty. Went to my place from there. She stayed over.”

“Appreciate the time.” Eve got to her feet. “If I have any more questions, I’ll be in touch.”

Eve went from office to office, interrupting meetings and ’link calls, wading through tears and anxiety. Everyone liked Nat and Bick, nobody knew of any problems. She got a little more out of the account assistant Natalie had shared with two other execs.

She found Sarajane Bloomdale in the break room, sniffling over a cup of tea that smelled like wet moss. She was a tiny woman with a short black balloon of hair that cut across her eyebrows in thick, ruler-straight bangs. Her eyes were rimmed with red, her nose pink.

“Been out for a couple days,” Sarajane told Eve. “Caught a head cold. Sucks, you know? Mostly, I was sleeping it off, and then yesterday Maize – she’s one of the other assistants – she called me. Hysterical, crying. She told me. I didn’t believe her. I kept saying, ‘That’s just bullshit, Maize.’ I kept saying that, and she kept saying how it’s true, they’re dead. And I’d say – ”

“I get it. How long did you work with Natalie?”

“About two years. She was great. Didn’t expect me to run around doing all the grunt work likesome. They’ll run your feet off around here. But Natalie was great. Organized, you know? You didn’t have to forever find where she forgot she put something. And she’d remember stuff like your birthday, or just bring in pastries now and then. And when I broke up with my boyfriend a couple months ago, she took me out to lunch.”

“Was she working on anything specific the last couple weeks? Did she make any unusual requests?”

“Nothing out of the usual. She was working on something, locked her door a lot lately.” Sarajane glanced around Eve, checking the doorway. “I sort of figured she was doing wedding stuff,” Sarajane whispered. “We’re not supposed to do personal business on company time, but, you know, your wedding and all.”

“How about transmissions made through you, correspondence she asked you to send?”

“Just the routine stuff. But you know, she logged back in after hours a couple times lately. I happened to notice when I checked her daily calendar on her office unit. Just noticed the log-in. I guess I said something to her about it. Like I said, ‘Gee, Natalie, your nose is going to fall off if you keep it to the grindstone.’ And she looked kinda funny about it and asked if I wouldn’t mention it to anybody. She was just catching up on some work.”