Page 18 of Passions in Death
“Some I think, some I know,” she said as they went out where the shallow puddles had dried. And the air felt as if it had absorbed every drop of wet. “I know the killer was in the room. I think already in it when she went in. I know the killer brought in the case. I think she found a way to slip them the swipe so they could. Since she picked it up about noon, that leaves plenty of time for the handoff. That says she knew her killer, and trusted them enough with her big secret surprise. Had to, as the case didn’t have a lock.”
She got in the car, stretched out her legs.
“I know the killer came prepared to kill, and I think they did it quickly from behind. Plus they weren’t smart enough to take the case out with them and secure the door. Why leave the case, when that gives us something to work with? Why not secure the door so it takes longer to locate the body?”
“Panic?” Roarke suggested.
“That’s my initial thinking, and if so, it’s most likely a first kill. As far as we know—so that’s not in the I Know column—none of her group arrived at the D&D with the case. But without cams, no way to be sure. Plus, she could’ve given the swipe to one of them earlier.”
“They come in the back, put the case in the room, then join the party.”
“Possible. But then why didn’t Albright get the swipe back? Can’t ask her, so possible. Maybe one of them had something going with the vic at some point. Now she’s marrying someone else, taking them to Maui. That bitch! Or one of them wants to have a thing with Hunnicut, so wants Albright out of the way so they can move in and comfort the grieving bride.”
“Extreme, but not unprecedented.”
“Nope.” She rolled her shoulders in an attempt to ease the stiffness. Had little success.
“I worked this case once—back with Feeney. A woman meets this guy at a party. They have some party talk. The guy intros her to his wife, and they all have some party talk. The woman decides the guy’s her soul mate. Consults a psychic who, for fifty bucks, confirms same. Tells her the wife will leave suddenly and clear the field. Wanting to speed things along, she throws a party, invites them and about three dozen of her friends and acquaintances. She slips into the john behind the wife, where she bashes her over the head with—I’m not making this up—a frozen round of marble rye, then drowns her in a tub filled with scented water and floating candles.”
“Inventive.”
“Would’ve been more so if she hadn’t stuck the bread back in the freezer. Parties are murder. Anyway, we got her.”
Eve circled her head to release tension in her neck, with a little more success. “We’ll get this one, too. Should’ve taken the case, ditched it and the contents somewhere.”
“If it’s one of the partygoers, it’s possible she didn’t want to be absent that long.”
“Also possible. It would take a cold-ass mother to do the kill, then walk right back in and dance.” She closed her eyes a minute, rolled her shoulders again. “But the world’s got plenty of cold-ass mothers to go around.”
When he drove through the gates, she let out one long, relieved breath.
“Hunnicut gave us access to their place. I sent Reo a warrant request just to back it up, but we’ll hit that first thing. Hunnicut said nobody had keys except her and the vic.”
“The killer could’ve made a copy along the way.”
“Yeah, but why not just take hers once she’s dead? They took her ’link, and that tells me they’ve had some communication on it that brings the killer into the light. Take her apartment key, or if they’d copied it, they don’t wait for after the kill to get in, remove any communication. McNab will know if they did.”
She got out of the car. “Peabody was basically asleep on her feet when I sent her home. Hell, I was getting there myself. Morning’s soon enough.”
As they went inside, she glanced at her wrist unit. “I can get a solid three hours down. That’ll work. You’ll get less.”
He slipped an arm around her when they started up the stairs. “I rescheduled my five A.M. I’ll take the solid three with you.”
She tipped her head toward his shoulder. “Slacker.”
“The privilege of being the boss.”
“Of everything. ’Cept me.”
In the bedroom, she stripped off her jacket, her weapon harness, and, yawning, sat to pull off her boots. “I need to talk to the victim’s parents. Maybe she told them about the big surprise. Shauna indicated they couldn’t afford it, but maybe they helped. Then there’s the artists she shared studio space with. Unless they were all at the party. Need to check that.”
“You need to sleep first.”
And as she stripped down, he pulled a sleep shirt over her head.
“I do. I really do. Move over, tubby.” She nudged the sprawled cat over, then sprawled herself. Facedown.
Roarke slid in beside her, stroked a hand down her back. Since she went under before the second stroke, he set his internal alarm, and joined her.
