Page 47 of Passions in Death
“DiNuzio would’ve seen them when she got home, changed for party time.”
“Right, right. But not if he tucked them away somewhere. Or brought them back to work in a bag, like they were something else.”
“How long do flowers last without water?”
“You’re crushing my buzz. Okay, so he could’ve bought them on the way home—the idea hits. Buy the flowers, establish my innocent steps. Or he buys them after the kill. Or! He buys them going to or from the art studio when he gets the case. Hell, he could’ve ordered them for evening delivery. How would we trace tiger lilies already in a vase?”
“While I appreciate your mind working in cynical ways, delivery would be stupid. If you can’t find flowers—and it’s New York, it’s summer, you’re going to find some stall with flowers—you pick up something else. Something for cash. Most likely, he bought them exactly as he said. Either because he’s telling the truth all around, or because he wanted the little extra flourish as cover.”
Peabody slumped a little. “Sure, if you want it to make more sense. We had The Couple in high school. Lauren Beals and Denny Parker. Why do I remember that? Is it sick I remember that?”
“Your call.”
“It’s a little bit sick,” Peabody decided after some thought. “Not pathological though. Okay, so running through the theory that Greg Barney did the deed, motive. He still has it for Shauna, Becca’s just the beard. She doesn’t know. I’m sure of that one. He’s hooked up with her so he stays close to Shauna. Then what! She’s going for somebody else!”
“She’s dated and had sex with somebody else—multiple somebodies.”
“But now she’s getting married.”
“Point for you on that. There’s the men’s shop. And that puts his place between it and Crack’s. A solid walk to the D&D, we’re going to time that just to tie it down.”
Peabody went back to her PPC. “And the bar where he met the friend? Two blocks north from… here.”
Eve hit vertical and dropped into a second-level street slot.
Peabody swallowed her heart out of her throat, back into her chest. “You never warn me. You just never, ever warn me.”
“Saves you anxiety time. Let’s take a walk.”
“Where do we start?”
“The bar.” Eve jogged down the steps to street level. “Given the location, I’m betting Barney’s at least a semi-regular. Meanwhile, pin down the friend, see if he verifies.”
And, she thought as they walked in the steamy air, they needed to talk to Erin’s friends and flit partners.
While Peabody worked her ’link, Eve imagined the walk after dark. Still traffic, sure, vehicles, pedestrians. But not as many people clipping or trudging along after dark. Cooler air, closed shops.
A block north, they hit a flower stall. And Peabody clicked off her ’link. “Checks out. They met where and when. Or by seven-thirty. The alibi says they left together around nine-thirty. Confirmed breakfast meeting this morning.”
“We still start at the bar. Any of those tiger lilies?”
“Yeah, three bunches right there. Boy, they’re really pretty.”
“Keep walking.”
“He probably got them there. Why wouldn’t he? He’d walk right by them. So either a sweet gesture or a clever ploy. He did seem kind of sweet. Like stopping by a deli so there’d be something easy to eat. And I have to add Becca strikes me as a woman who’d know if she was just the beard.”
“Maybe, but we play it out.”
Since the bar was open, Eve walked in.
Tippler’s smelled of beer and bar food—not unpleasantly. It had a decent crowd taking advantage of both.
Eve went to the bar, caught the attention of the bartender, a woman with a pink froth of hair and excellent breasts displayed in a low-cut, skintight black tee.
“What’ll it be, ladies?”
Eve palmed the badge discreetly.
