Page 10 of Passions in Death
“I didn’t really know her, except tonight. I started working here a couple months ago, but Crack said we should make sure the brides got whatever they wanted. So she came up to the bar with her empty glass. She said like, hit me again, and how I should tell Shauna, if she asked, she went to the ladies’. And gave me a wink.”
“Did she?”
“Yeah, I guess. But just a few minutes.”
“When?”
“Um, right after I took the stick. I mixed her drink, had it waiting. She came back—just a few minutes—and—and—she looked so happy.”
“Did you notice anyone come in during that time, when she came back?”
“No, but… Crack says to keep an eye, but—the ladies were having so much fun. Some of them onstage, half-naked, singing, dancing. On the floor, dancing with each other. I was watching them because they were having so much fun, and they weren’t like our usuals.”
“Did you see anyone with a black case, about this big? Black with a handle on the top?”
“No, ma’am, I sure didn’t.”
Considering the damp fear in those eyes, Eve let the ma’am slide.
“Okay. I appreciate it. I’d like to speak with Pete.”
“He’s with Crack, I’ll tell Crack. Can I go home? It’s just, my mom’s watching my little boy, and I didn’t want to tell her what happened. I get home by one on Mondays.”
“Yeah, you can go.
“Door, back door,” Eve murmured. “John’s down that way. She could’ve let someone in the back, whoever brought the case. Doesn’t want anyone looking for her. Give them the swipe so they can put the case in the room.”
“And her killer goes straight there, inside.”
“That’s one way. Odds are good nobody sees them. After it’s done, go out the same way. In and out the back. No cams to worry about.”
“Why don’t I go check the door?”
“Do that. I’ll have the sweepers check for prints. They couldn’t be stupid enough to leave any, but we’ll check.”
As Roarke headed off, Crack came out again, this time with a man in a tight, sleeveless black tee that showed off impressive biceps. Eve gauged him as early twenties, currently pale as a summer cloud. His curling mass of bronze hair framed a chiseled, square-jawed face.
He shook like a leaf in a windstorm.
“Pete, why don’t you go around and sit down there by Dallas. Lieutenant Dallas,” Crack corrected.
“Okay. Okay, but can you stick with me?”
Eve gave Crack a nod. With his arm around Pete’s muscled shoulders, Crack led him around the bar.
“Why don’t you tell me what happened?” Eve began.
“I found her. I served her drinks earlier. They had a table, and she and the other—the one getting married—they danced on the table. Then I found her.”
“How long after you served the drinks before you found her?”
“Oh. I don’t know exactly. An hour? Maybe more.”
“It was just some after midnight when you took your break,” Crack prompted.
“Right, right. Okay.” Pressing his fingers to his eyes, Pete rubbed. “Crack said I could use one of the privacy rooms to crash for thirty. I’m taking some summer classes, going for my MBA. It’s finals week, and I’ve been cramming it. I guess it showed. Sorry.”
“Don’t hand me that bullshit. He needed a break,” Crack said to Eve. “I told him to take thirty, gave him a swipe. We only had the one room booked anyway.”
