Page 96 of Passions in Death
But credence or not, she did the runs, as it was possible the killer had a partner.
Once done, she decided to either close that door or open it a crack wider and contacted all four.
Routine inquiry, blah blah.
Two served as each other’s alibi. Poker game, monthly deal—with three others. Broke up at midnight.
Easily checked and verified, so she did.
The third worked the night shift as an MT—also easily checked and verified.
The last, no longer with the woman he’d been with at the club, claimed to be home, in bed. But not alone.
Eve checked and verified.
Smaller pool, Eve thought as she rose. Her gut told her Lopez and Barney remained most likely. And so had Angie Decker’s take on her friend.
She headed down to the garage and decided she’d swing by the victim’s apartment, see if she could talk to those neighbors. Impressions again of who visited, how often.
She didn’t have far to go, but the traffic made it feel a lot farther. She found parking, considered it a bonus, and walked through the hot August evening toward the apartment building.
A lot of sweaty people had ended their workday, headed for happy hour or home, an after-work appointment, an early vid with a friend. She hoped the Burgers had ended their workday and chosen home.
She mastered into the building and headed up.
Plenty in the building, from the sound of it, had chosen home. No baby screaming this time, but an older kid’s maniacal laughter that reminded her of Bella.
And reminded her about the damn chair she had to make sure about before Mavis’s second kid came along.
When the hell was that, and how could she get out of witnessing another birth and having those images burned freshly in her brain?
“Don’t think about it,” she muttered, and came out on the fourth floor.
Since she heard another kid proclaiming loudly that she pooped in the toilet, which was followed by adult cheers and applause, she figured her luck was in.
The woman who answered the buzz had short blond hair, wore a black linen dress that had wilted some, and had bare feet. Eve could smell whatever was for dinner—and decided Chinese takeout.
“Can I help you?”
Eve held up her badge; before she could speak, the woman glanced back.
“Allen, I need to step into the hall with the p-o-l-i-c-e.” She eased the door shut but for a crack. “This is about Erin. We’re sick about it. I don’t want our daughters to hear yet. They’re too young.”
“Daddy, wipe my butt!”
“Potty training,” Ms. Burger said. “She’s very proud. So are we.”
“Okay.”
“It’s just awful. She was a sweetheart. Both of them. Erin gave Trixie art lessons.” Burger smiled. “Our older girl. She’s six. It was so sweet of Erin to take the time.”
“Since you live across the hall, you might have noticed visitors.”
“Some, sure. They had a lot of friends. No loud parties, which we appreciate. I mean we could hear some—the soundproofing doesn’t exist here—but they weren’t obnoxious.”
“This is just a routine inquiry. Can I show you some photos? Just to get a sense who visited, how often?”
“Sure. Oh yes.” Burger studied Angie’s ID shot. “What’s her name? Andi—no, Angie. Angie and the other—pretty hair. Becca! They were here a lot, especially in the last few months. Helping with the wedding.”
