Page 78 of Obsession in Death

He shook his head. “I was pretty steamed, seeing—you know, red—and not paying attention. I wasn’t framing a portrait of an asshole delivery girl.”

“Faces are your business,” Eve pointed out, nudging his ego.

“Yeah, yeah. Brain’s sideways,” he said again, closed his eyes again. “Narrow face, narrow nose, early to mid-thirties at a guess. A lot of bulk, but thinking... a lot of bulk was maybe the coat, whatever she had on under it. Not so much her, I think. Brown ski cap, pulled low. Couldn’t see any hair. Good skin, soft-looking skin. Says female to me. Soft, creamy brown, café au lait—heavier on the lait.”

His eyes opened. “I saw it.”

“Saw what?” Eve prompted.

“She said I had to sign—something like that. Man, I was pissed enough to break her in two. But I saw it, right before the jolt.” He rubbed a hand over his chest. “Jesus Christ on a tricycle it hurts. It fucking burns. But I saw it, in her eyes.”

“What?”

“Excitement.”

When Peabody arrived, Eve turned Hastings over to her partner. She called for sweepers—had a moment of relief she wasn’t calling for a morgue team with them. Then went toward the kitchen.

She could hear Roarke and Matilda had moved on to other things and were talking about distribution, markets, advertising, and God knows.

“We’re about done here,” Eve said. “But I’d like you to run it through for me. What happened, what you heard, what you saw.”

“No problem. Whatever I can do.”

Eve listened, made notes. And considered if the timing had been off, even a little, Hastings might not be stewing on the sofa drinking whiskey.

“I appreciate the cooperation. You can go back out if you like, Ms. Zebler.”

“Oh, thanks. Can I ask you—if Dirk’s really in danger, can we leave, just leave New York for a while? I actually have a shoot next week in Australia. I could talk him into going with me.”

“I’ve asked him to work with a police artist tomorrow, and I’m hoping you’ll agree to do the same.”

“Absolutely.”

“After that, you’re free to go where you like. I’d appreciate your contact information, in case I need to speak to either of you.”

“That’s no problem at all. Did that man really come here tonight to kill Dirk?”

Man, Eve thought, frustrated. She had two eye-wits. One saw a man, one saw a woman.

“I believe Dirk’s lucky you were coming down with a bottle of red, and thought quick, thought smart.”

“Australia,” Matilda said, then walked back to Hastings.

Eve saw Peabody glance over, double take. Then nearly bump her jaw into her toes.

“Peabody!”

“Sir.”

“Head down to the studio. I’ll coordinate with the police artist and get back to you,” she told Hastings. “We’ll get out of your way as soon as we can. We’re done up here.”

“We appreciate you getting here so quickly,” Matilda began, and sent Dirk a long look.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

“You’re going to have some soup,” Matilda began as Eve walked away. “And lie down.”

“I’d nearly finished the imaging on—”

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