Page 28 of Passions in Death
“I asked, like what’s up, and she said she had a surprise for Shauna. A surprise for everybody, so not to look, just to bring it to the party. She had a privacy room booked, and she’d give me the swipe when I got there so I could put it in the room.”
After an uneven breath, Donna drank more water. “I tagged her from the shuttle station after I missed the nine o’clock. No, I still thought I could make it. I tagged her like about ten, when they started announcing more delays.”
She swiped at her phone again to bring up the tags.
“Man, she looked so happy, and the place was already starting to rock. I told her I didn’t know when the hell I’d get out of Baltimore, and I guess I was a little weepy with it. I really wanted to be there, and I was stuck. Then I remembered the overnight, and got weepier.”
She wiped away more tears. “All about me, right? She said not to worry about the overnight, she had a backup handling it—just in case—since I had to go to Baltimore. To fly safe, how we’d party twice as hard at the wedding if I stayed stuck. She said, ‘Love you, babe.’ That’s the last thing she said to me. ‘Love you, babe.’”
“Who would have been her backup?”
“I don’t know. Angie maybe, or Becca, or really most anybody at the party. I didn’t ask. I was tired, feeling sorry for myself. Is it important? I can ask everybody.”
“Yes, it’s important. We’ve spoken with everyone who was there. Show us where she kept the case.”
“Sure.” Rising, Donna gestured toward an easel with a painting of an old man sitting on a bench, a spotted dog at his feet. “That’s my area. Anton is over there. He does mostly commercial art—for hotels, office buildings. Roy’s there. He’s been doing a lot of mural work lately, but he still comes in a few times a week. And Erin’s here.”
Like the other stations, it had a worktable, a stool, shelves holding jars and tubes of paint, supplies. She’d stacked canvases, finished, half-finished, blank, against the wall. None sat on the easel.
“She hadn’t started anything since the sale. And she had plenty finished to sell from her street spot. Plus, she’d do on-the-spot portraits—pencil sketches, charcoals, pastels. Tourists go for those.”
As she spoke, Donna stroked a hand over the easel. “She put the case right there, bottom shelf.”
“She didn’t worry about your studio mates poking into it?” Peabody asked.
“Oh, no. Don’t mess with anyone else’s shit. Hard-and-fast rule. Plus, neither of them would’ve noticed it.”
“Would she have asked either of them to bring it in for her?”
Donna shook her head at Eve. “I can’t see that. We’re friendly, and we’re supportive of each other’s work. But we’re not real tight. And Roy, he works nights, waits tables at… ah, Cuchina—that’s it. He’s talking about quitting now that his mural work’s taking off. And Anton—Anton’s a talented artist, but just not the kind of guy you ask for a favor outside of the art.
“I don’t understand why it matters.”
“Every detail matters.” Eve’s eye landed on a canvas, a painting of an Italian place, a pizzeria. Bright colors, people sitting at booths and tables, drinking wine, eating a slice, a waitress in motion with a loaded pie on a tray. The long counter at the front window where people could sit on stools and watch New York go by.
A lone figure sat there, facing the window, a slice in one hand.
As she had when she’d first arrived in New York.
“I know that place,” she murmured.
“Oh yeah, Polumbi’s, one of our favorites. Great pizza. She really captured the vibe.”
“Yeah, she did.”
Pulling herself out, Eve turned to Donna again. “Who has access to the studio?”
“The four of us. Roy’s got a serious girlfriend, so I guess she would. Shauna.” Donna lifted her shoulders. “I can’t think why anyone else would.”
“All right. We appreciate your time and cooperation. If you think of anything else, contact me or Detective Peabody.” Eve offered her a card. “Again, we’re sorry for your loss.”
“Can I—could I talk to Shauna?”
“I think talking to someone who was close to Erin would be good.”
“You’ll find out, won’t you? It’s not just a vid, is it? You’ll find the bastard who did this to Erin.”
Never make promises on an investigation, Eve reminded herself. But she said, “It’s not just a vid.”
