Page 13 of Passions in Death
With an owlish stare, Crack took a sip of the good stuff. “Bony white boy, does this place look like a fizzy bar?”
“Ginger ale maybe?”
“I can get you that.”
Crack started to pour one, then paused when the morgue team came in. “Hell. Fucking hell. Is she going to Morris, do you know?”
“Dallas would’ve asked for him.” McNab took the glass.
“It’s not right. None of this is right.” Crack came around to sit. “She’ll catch who did this.”
Roarke nodded as Eve led the morgue team to the body. “She won’t stop until she does. Get you a drink, Peabody?” he asked when she came over.
“Cold caffeine—not your coffee. I want to be able to keep my stomach lining intact. Dallas is having them take the victim out the back so her friends don’t have to see. They won’t budge until Shauna’s released. McNab, Dallas wants you to direct the sweepers when they get here.”
“On that. Totally on it, since here they come.”
“Sit,” Roarke said to Peabody as she downed that cold caffeine.
“Better not. Got another round to go.”
She downed more when Eve came back into the club. Eve paused a moment, had a word with the head sweeper before signaling Peabody.
Crack pushed off the stool. “I’ll take you back. Ginger ale,” he added when she took a hard look at McNab’s empty glass.
“Go home,” she told Roarke.
He lifted his glass. “I’m enjoying some of the good stuff.”
“Whatever. With me, Peabody.”
The door behind the bar led to a half-assed kitchen where they generated half-assed bar snacks. Though it shined clean, she figured if she’d been trapped in a cave for a week with no food or water, she might have, just maybe might have, risked eating something not hermetically sealed from that space.
A short, skinny corridor led to another door where Crack stopped.
“I gave her a soother earlier. Can’t say if it helped much.”
When he opened the door, the three women huddled together on chairs he’d obviously brought in from the club froze.
Like hers, his office ran small, but he’d managed to wedge in two more chairs.
And like hers, his office space said business, not socializing. A desk, his data and communication center, a big desk chair for a big man, a mini-AC, and a speed bag.
She immediately wondered if she could put a speed bag in her office.
“This is Lieutenant Dallas and Detective Peabody.” Crack eased over to take the middle woman’s hands. “They’re the best there is. I promise you that, Shauna. The best.”
“Will they let me see her?” Her voice, like her eyes, was dull. “No one will let me see her.”
“Ms. Hunnicut,” Eve began, “the chief medical examiner is taking care of Erin now. There’s no one who’ll take better care of her. We’ll arrange for you to see her tomorrow.”
“I need to see her. I need to touch her. I don’t understand.”
“Shauna, you listen to Dallas and Peabody now. I’m going to be right outside, but you listen to them.”
“Can we stay, please?” The woman on the right, a pretty strawberry blonde with red-rimmed, swollen green eyes, sent a pleading look toward Eve. “I’m Becca—Rebecca DiNuzio—and that’s Angie Decker. We’re friends, we’re all friends. Can we stay with Shauna?”
“Yes.” Eve nodded at Crack.
