“Just after one-thirty this morning.”
And Eve saw the flash of relief. “Sexual assault?” Peabody asked as she turned to the closet.
“No evidence thereof.”
“She robbed?”
“It’s possible her killer was after something specific, had no interest in some jewelry and a quality wrist unit.”
“Or funds,” Peabody added, holding up a large handbag. “Wallet’s in here. Couple of credit cards, a debit, and some cash. No personal ‘link or PPC. A couple of good-sized shopping bags in the closet here.”
“Keep looking.”
Eve moved into the bath. The sweepers would go over the room, inch by inch. But she could see quite a bit without their particular brand of magic.
She had, unfortunately, a solid working knowledge of hair gunk and face crap and body slathering stuff. The feared and dreaded Trina seemed to find a way to torture her with all of it every few weeks.
Trudy, it seemed, hadn’t stinted on the products—quantity or quality. She had, by Eve’s estimation, a couple grand in vanity crowded onto the bathroom counter.
The towels were still damp, Eve noted. In fact, the single washcloth was sodden. She glanced toward the tub. She’d bet the sweepers would find traces of bath products in the tub, face products on one of the towels.
So where were the missing bath towel and washcloth? Should be two of each.
She’d had a bath. Eve recalled how Trudy had enjoyed what she’d called her long soaks. If you’d disturbed her during that hour, you’d better have lopped off an appendage. Otherwise, you’d end up locked in a dark room.
Took a beating sometime yesterday, or as far back as Friday evening, Eve thought. Closes herself up, long soaks and pills. Trudy had liked pills, too, Eve remembered.
Take the edge off my nerves.
Why didn’t she have Bobby or Zana tending to her? Being tended to had been another of Trudy’s favorites.
Least you can do is bring me a cold drink.
You’re going to eat me out of house and home, I expect you could fetch me a cup of coffee and a piece of that cake.
You’re the laziest damn thing on two legs. Get your skinny butt moving and clean up around here.
Eve blew out a breath, settled herself. If Trudy had suffered in silence, there was a reason for it.
“Dallas?”
“Yeah.”
“No link.” Peabody stood at the bathroom door. “More cash in a security pack. More jewelry in pouches tucked into her clothes. Couple of transmissions, in and out, between her and either her son or her daughter-in-law. In-hotel trans. Bottle of blockers on the night table by the bed.”
“Yeah, I saw that. Let’s check the kitchen, see if we can determine the last time she got food.”
“Nobody breaks in, kills someone, for a ‘link.”
“Depends what’s on the ‘link, doesn’t it?” Eve moved to the Auto-Chef, hit replay.
“Chicken soup, just after eight last night. Chinese wrap about midnight. A lot of coffee on and off until seven p.m.” She opened the frig-gie. “Wine, good stuff—about a glass and a half left in the bottle. Milk, juice—both opened—and a quart, half gone, of chocolate frozen non-dairy dessert product.”
She glanced at the sink and counter. “Yet there’s not a bowl, glass, spoon unwashed.”
“She was tidy?”
“She was lazy, but maybe she was bored enough to clean up after herself.”
She heard Crime Scene arrive, took another minute. “Door’s locked from the inside.” Two clicks, she thought, when the maid had used her master. “Killer exited from the window. Possibly entered through same. Tourist hives like this one don’t go for soundproofing. Makes you wonder why she didn’t scream the place down.”
She stepped out, saw not only the sweepers, but Morris, the Chief Medical Examiner.
She remembered he’d worn a suit to the party, a kind of muted blue overlaid with a faint sheen. His long, dark hair had been intricately braided and he’d knocked back a few. Enough that he’d gotten up on stage with the band at one point and wailed away on the sax.
His talents, she’d discovered, weren’t limited to deciphering the dead.
Now he was in casual pants and a sweatshirt, and his hair was scooped back in a long, shiny tail. His eyes, slanted and oddly sexy, skimmed down the hallway and found her.
“Have you ever considered, just for the hell of it, taking a Sunday off?”
“Thought I was.” She drew him aside. “I’m sorry to call you in, especially since I know you were up late.”
“Very. In fact, I’d just gotten home when you tagged me. I have been to bed,” he added with his slow smile. “Just not my own.”
“Oh. Well. Here’s the thing. I knew her.”
“I’m sorry.” He sobered. “Dallas, I’m very sorry.”
“I said I knew her, not that I liked her. In fact, it’s the opposite. I need you to verify time of death. I want to be sure your gauge matches mine. And I want to know, as close as you can get it, when she obtained the other injuries you’re going to find.”
“Of course. Can I ask—”
“Lieutenant, sorry to interrupt.” Bilkey stepped beside her. “Vic’s son’s getting antsy.”
“Tell him I’ll be there in five.”
“No problem. Nothing on the canvass so far. Just fyi, two rooms this floor had check-outs this morning. Got you the data on that. Room next to the scene was a no-show. Contacted the desk last night about eighteen hundred to cancel. Got the name in case you need it. You want I should get the lobby security discs?”
“Do that. Good work, Bilkey.”
“All in a day’s.”
She turned back to Morris. “I don’t want to get into it here and now. Just want to emphasize your confirmation of my time of death. I’ve got next of kin down the hall, and I have to deal with them. I’ll fill you in on whatever’s salient once you’ve filed your report. I’d appreciate if you’d handle all of it personally.”
“Then I will.”
With a nod, she signalled to Peabody. “This is bound to be messy,” she began as they started down the hall.
“You want to separate them?”
“No. Not yet, anyway. Let’s see how it goes.”
She braced herself, and knocked on the door.
Chapter 7
ODD, EVE THOUGHT, HOW LITTLE SHE remembered him. He was, essentially, the first child near her own age she’d ever known.
They’d lived in the same house for months, and it had been a series of firsts for her. The first time she’d ever lived in a house, or stayed in one place night after night with a bed of her own. The first time she’d been around another kid.
The first time she hadn’t been beaten or raped.
But she could only see him vaguely the way he’d been—the pale blond hair cut short over a wide, almost chubby face.
He’d been shy, and she’d been terrified. She supposed it wasn’t that odd that they hadn’t bonded.
Now, here they were, in a bland hotel room with grief and death fouling the air.
“I’m sorry, Bobby. I’m very sorry about what’s happened.”
“I don’t know what happened.” His eyes were ravaged, and he clung to Zana’s hand as they sat together on the side of the bed. “No one will tell us anything. My mother… my mother.”
“Do you know why she came to New York?”
“Of course.” When Zana made a little whimpering sound, Bobby took his hand from hers so he could wrap his arm tight around her shoulders. “She wanted to see you. And we haven’t had a vacation in a while. She was excited about coming to New York. We’ve never been. And seeing you, and shopping for Christmas. Oh, God.” He dropped his head onto his wife’s shoulder, then just dropped it into his hands . “How could this have happened to her? Who could’ve done it?”
“Do you know anyone who was bothering her? Who had threatened her?”
“No. No. No.”
“Well…” Zana bit her lip, then pressed them tight together.
“You thought of someone?” Eve asked her.
“I, well, it’s just that she’s got that feud going with Mrs. Dillman next door?” She knuckled tears away. “Mrs. Dillman’s grandson’s over there and out in the backyard all the time with that little dog he brings over, and they do carry on. Mama Tru and Mrs. Dillman had more than a few words over it. And Mrs. Dillman said she’d like to slap Mama Tru silly.”