Page 52 of Passions in Death
“Is there iced tea?”
“Iced tea. Detective?”
“Water, thanks.”
Since she wanted Peabody in the lead, Eve crossed over to Vending. And now had to face the damn machine.
“Don’t fuck with me today,” she muttered, and punched in her code.
“Welcome, Baxter, Detective David. Your code is verified and you are free to make your selections.”
“Fine, whatever.” She programmed for the iced tea, the water, and went for a Pepsi.
“Please be advised, your selections of Summer Time Iced Tea and Pepsi both contain artificial flavorings and chemical additives.”
“Oh, bite me,” Eve muttered as the machine listed them.
“Enjoy your selections, Baxter, Detective David. Your account has been charged.”
“Great.”
She walked back to the table where Peabody softballed the interview.
“So you and Erin met shortly after you moved to New York.”
“That’s right. I was just twenty. I came into a small inheritance—my great-grandfather—and dropped out of college, moved here. I was going to make my mark, and make it in New York. I rented a dump of a furnished apartment so small I had to crawl over the Murphy bed if I had it down to get to the bathroom. That didn’t have a sink. The only sink was in the corner of the living room that claimed to be a kitchen. I loved it.”
“You moved from Kansas.”
“That’s right, a little dot on the map in very rural Kansas. Not much opportunity to make my mark as a singer—the superstar I imagined. Add gay in a loving but very traditional family. I wanted bright lights, I wanted New York.”
“Yeah, me, too. Free-Ager family.”
“Really?”
“They’re great, but I wanted New York, and they got behind me on it. How did you meet Erin?”
“About a year later—I was waitressing, going to auditions, discouraged. But I got a gig at a café in SoHo, and she was there. She bought me a drink after. She was a struggling artist, I was a struggling performer. Friendship came first.”
Wanda cracked the tube, but didn’t drink.
“I loved her art—I couldn’t afford it, but I loved it. She did a painting of me onstage in this red dress I’d bought at a secondhand shop, and gave it to me for Christmas that year. I met Donna and Angie and Margo. It was so good to have a group, you know?”
“A tribe.”
Lifting her hands, Wanda folded them together, gesturing with them toward Peabody as she smiled.
“Yes, exactly that. I hated waiting tables, but the gigs wouldn’t pay the bills. Angie suggested I try selling real estate. So I took an online course, got my license. Now that pays the bills, and gives me enough flexibility to take more gigs.”
She looked at Eve. “I know your husband—not personally, just know. I haven’t sold him anything—I’m small-time. But anyone in my business knows Roarke. So I feel I know you, both of you, the same way. That’s why as horrible as this is, I feel Erin’s in good hands.”
The big brown eyes went teary as she sipped her iced tea. “I need to believe that. I don’t think I could get through this if I didn’t.”
“Losing a friend is crushing,” Peabody said. “Were you and Erin ever more than that? Did you have a romantic relationship?”
“Oh, briefly, but I wouldn’t say romantic. It was more, we’re both at loose ends, we like each other, we’re healthy young lesbians, so why not? And it was nice, but… I guess I brought some of my traditional background with me. We didn’t really click that way. Sexually, sure, but the friendship meant more, on both sides. And I wanted—still want—what she had with Shauna. I want that real bond, that real love, that promise of forever. That wasn’t Erin for me, or me for Erin. So friends it was.”
“Did she trust you?” Eve asked.
