Because she wanted to keep them from dwelling on that possibility, Eve changed gears. “Detectives Olsen and Tredway indicate neither of you met or knew the Patricks before the attacks. How about the Strazzas?”
“Actually, when Rosa and I were talking—she contacted me before you got here—we realized we’d all attended some of the same events. We’d just never connected.”
“What events?”
“Well, ah, the Celebrate Art Gala last April. And the Winter Ball—that was the year before last. Neither of us attended this year’s. And a few others, I don’t remember now. Which is why I need Lilia. Rosa actually helps organize the art gala. It’s a lovely evening. We’ll go this year,” she said to Ira.
“Of course we will.”
“Oh, and, I remember another. Wait.” Lori tapped two fingers to her temple. “I just had it. The Have a Heart Ball. It’s a Valentine’s Day event, a charity ball in association with St. Andrew’s Hospital.”
Another link in the chain, Eve thought. “But you never met the Strazzas?”
“I met Dr. Strazza, as it happens,” Ira told her. “Just met, as in we were introduced briefly by a mutual acquaintance. At one of these charity events. I’m nearly certain it was the Celebrate Art Gala. I only remember at all—it was that brief—because of all this.”
“You spoke with him?”
“Really no more than ‘How do you do.’ I’d gone to one of the bars with an acquaintance, and Dr. Strazza was passing by. You’d gone off with Rhia and Lilia, one of your safaris to the ladies’ lounge,” he said to Lori. “I headed to the bar with Chase.”
“Chase Benson,” Lori expanded. “He knows everyone, and drops names like they’re seeds for the garden.”
“Now, Lori.”
“Did you meet his wife?” Eve probed. “Daphne Strazza?”
“No, she wasn’t with him at that moment—and it was only a moment. Chase intercepted the man, gave him one of his patented hearty handshakes. I believe he did ask about Strazza’s wife. Something like ‘Where is that gorgeous creature you stole from the rest of us?’ That’s how Chase talks. I think Strazza said something about her powdering her nose.”
“Stupid expression,” Lori muttered.
“That may be, but when I think of it, I’d say Strazza looked a bit annoyed. Chase can have that effect. In any case, Chase introduced us, Strazza nodded and left. It was brief. Abrupt, really. Chase said something about Strazza being a dick with a young, sexy wife. That was it.”
“How many ladies’ lounges?” Eve wondered.
“The one main,” Lori told her. “You can hoof it to others, but the main’s big and beautifully appointed. It means something, doesn’t it, that we were all there—the six of us—that night?”
“It may.” Following a hunch, she took out her notebook, scrolled through to Daphne Strazza’s ID shot. “Maybe you noticed her there.”
Lori took the handheld, stared at it. “She’s so striking. It’s not a face you’d forget. And, yes, I saw her, saw her in the lounge. It was the Celebrate Art Gala. I even spoke with her. She’d been crying—was doing her best to hide it. I asked if she was all right, the way you do. She said she had a headache, and had taken a blocker. She was wearing a fabulous white dress with hints of sparkle, beautifully fitted, cut low on the back, an off-the-shoulder bodice with thin black chains draped on each shoulder.”
Ira let out a laugh. “Lori can’t remember the day of the week, but she never forgets an outfit.”
“And I don’t forget she had a bruise here.” Lori touched her left biceps. “Just a little bruise, but still showing some red. A fresh bruise, like she’d been pinched hard. I remember her because she was a strikingly beautiful woman in a strikingly beautiful dress who looked unbearably sad and was trying to hide it.”
Lori drew a breath. “I wonder if you could tell her, ask her, if I could go see her. If she’d want to talk to me, talk to me and Rosa. She may not be ready, but you could give her my contact information. Whenever she is…”
“I will. I don’t want to take you through that night again, but I wonder if you’d let my partner and me see the bedroom.”
“It’s not the same.” Lori looked at her husband, waited for his nod. They rose together. “We’ll take you up. We’ve made changes,” she explained as she led the way. “We couldn’t live here at first. We went to our house in the Hamptons, even talked about selling this house.”
“We’ve lived here all our married life,” Ira added. “In the end we decided we’d make some changes, add more security. We’d try, and if either of us felt we needed to sell, we would.”
“It’s a great house,” Peabody commented. “You can feel the history of it just like you can feel the, well, settled aura. It reflects you both, I think.”
“So do we.” On the second floor, Ira moved to a pair of double doors, opened them. “We can secure these, and did for the first few weeks.”
Eve stepped inside.
In the file, the walls showed a strong, tropical blue. Now they held a warm, quiet taupe. The bed with its elaborate chrome posts had been replaced with something more simple with a high padded headboard. Everything in the room spoke of the simple, the streamlined, all the tones read soft, soothing.
Eve noted the motion detectors, the alarms, the locks on the windows.
“The en suite also serves as a safe room,” Lori told them. “We can secure the door from the inside, bring down a steel panel over it. It has its own alarm and communication system. It’s a little over-the-top, but—”
“Nothing that makes you feel safe in your own home is over-the-top.” Eve responded.
Despite the changes, she could see it as it had been.
Just another pattern, she thought now. He worked on patterns.
“Do you still have the house droid?”
“No. After the police released it, we had it reprogrammed and sold it.” Ira draped an arm around Lori’s shoulders. “We hired a security team, and a live-in housekeeper with a background in security.”
“Okay. Thanks for the time and the access. Do you have any problem with us talking to Lilia Dominick?”
“Not at all,” Lori said. “Will you remember to give my information to Mrs. Strazza?”
“I’ll give it to her today.”
“Find him.” Ira tightened his hold on his wife. “Put him away.”
We will, Eve thought, but could only say, “We’ll do all we can.”
* * *
“Contact the border collie, see if she’ll come down to Central.” Because the predicted snow had started during their time inside, Eve dragged on her snowflake hat. “We’re going to go by, have another talk with Daphne, then we need to put this together.”
“All the victims in the same place, the same time, the same event? That means something.”
“Yeah. The killer was there, too. No way he wasn’t there. As staff, as a guest. He saw these people, and something started the wheels turning in his fucked-up head.”
As the snow fell thin and fast, Eve slid behind the wheel. “He’s going to be one of them,” she said as she pulled away from the curb. “That’s what my gut tells me. He’s one of the privileged—or he was. One or the other. He knows the lifestyle.”
“The caterer, the rental company.”
“Not a coincidence, because there aren’t any. He’s used them, or has been to events they worked. He knows someone—or someones—who work there. Well enough to pump one or more of them for information on his targets, which they give either inadvertently or incentivized by—”
Eve rubbed her thumb and fingers together.
“No matter how, we’ve connected the victims. They’re linked. It’s not random, never was. They’re specific targets who meet his specific requirements.”
She lapsed into silence, thinking, thinking, while Peabody talked to Lilia Dominick.
Peabody muted the ’link. “She says she’ll come in, if we need her, but couldn’t get there until afte
r five today. She’s swamped. But her office isn’t far from here. If we can go to her, she’ll juggle things around. Sounds cooperative,” Peabody added. “And a little harassed.”
“Tell her we’ll be there within the hour.”
Eve pulled into the hospital lot while Peabody arranged the interview.
“She’s out of her office now,” Peabody reported. “She’ll be there within thirty.”
They made their way through the hospital to Daphne’s floor, passed the desk. Eve nodded to the uniform on the door. “Officer.”
“Lieutenant. Nobody but medical types in or out. She got some soup delivered from a place called Jacko’s. The doc said you’d cleared it. Big vat of soup. She said to send me out a bowl of it. Damn good, sir.”
The uniform shifted. “She asked me to come in a couple of times this shift, Loo. Wanted me to check the bathroom, under the bed, in the closet. Laughed about it, but the laugh was put on. You know?”
“Yeah.”
“It was after one of the nurses said something about how well she was doing and how she could probably go home tomorrow. She got freaked over it, but tried not to show it.”
“Okay. Take a break, Officer. You’ve got fifteen.”
Eve stepped in.
Daphne sat in a chair by the window, listlessly swiping a tablet. Her long hair lay in a simple braid over her left shoulder. The beauty the beating had masked shined through despite the bruises.
Daphne managed what passed for a smile.
“How are you doing?” Eve asked.
“Better. I’ve been up and walking, and it hardly hurts at all. They said I could sit here, or even go down to the indoor garden. I think I might do that. Go down there. But—”
“But?”
“Dr. Nobel said he would fix it so I could stay longer, but they’re saying I could go home tomorrow. I can’t go back there.”
“You don’t have to go back there.”
“I don’t know where to go.”
“You could stay with a friend.”
“I … I don’t have anyone I could stay with.”
“Your family,” Eve began. Daphne went stiff.
“No. No, they’re not here.”
Since the mention of her family had put that look back in Daphne’s eyes, Eve let it go.
“You could stay in a hotel. We’d keep a police officer with you. You’re going to need some things from the house.”
“I … I could get things from the store.”
“Yeah, you could.” Eve sat in the facing chair, gesturing for Peabody to sit on the side of the bed. Casual, she thought, nonthreatening. “We can take care of that for you, if you give us a list. Or we could bring you things from the house, your own things.”
“I—maybe. I need a few things, and, well, I don’t have any way to pay right now. They gave me a basic kit. For the bathroom, but—”
“A girl wants her own hair and face products,” Peabody pointed out. “Maybe your makeup, some comfortable clothes. Those are nice pajamas.”
“Jilly—one of the nurses? She got them for me. She said they’d just add the cost onto the bill. I…” Her eyes filled. “I don’t know how to pay the bill. There’s insurance, but I … I don’t know how it works, or what I would owe over that. I talked to Del—Dr. Nobel—and he said not to worry about it yet, and that when I was ready I should talk to the lawyer, the one in charge of my husband’s—Anthony’s estate.”
“That sounds sensible. As a matter of fact, I was planning to contact the lawyer today, just to discuss some details.”
Relief visibly flooded her face. “Oh, then maybe you could ask him what I should do. How to pay the hospital, and for a hotel if I have to leave.”
“I’ll talk to him. That’s Randall Wythe, right?”
“I think—yes. I signed papers before my husband and I were married. The legal papers, but after that my husband handled all the legal business.”
“Okay. Daphne, you know there are two other couples who were attacked, who’ve been through what you’re going through.”
Daphne pressed her lips together, nodded.
“You met them. You worked with one of them on a committee. And met the other at an event once.”
“I did?”
“Rosa Patrick.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t remember. I can’t remember anyone with that name. I’m terrible at remembering things.” Her breath began to shorten. “I have to try harder. It’s rude and embarrassing to forget someone’s name.”
“No, it’s not,” Eve said. Daphne just blinked at her. “She wasn’t married when you worked together. So she was Rosa Hernandez.”
“Oh, of course. Yes, I remember. I remember Rosa. She was so smart and very patient. I make so many mistakes, but she—”
“Really? Because Rosa told me she thought you were great at the work.”
“Oh, she was just being kind.”
“No, she wasn’t. She said she’d hoped to work with you again, and had even asked about you when it was time to put together that event again.”
“She did?”
“Yeah. She was very clear on that.”
“I thought…”
“What?”
“Nothing. Nothing.” Lowering her eyes, Daphne stared at her hands. “I’m sorry we lost touch.”
“She feels the same about you. The other woman. Lori Brinkman. You didn’t exchange names, so you won’t remember her that way. You just happened to run into her at an event. Last spring, the Celebrate Art Gala. Do you remember attending that?”
“Yes. I was to wear the white Delaney gown with the black-and-white Rachel Carroll evening shoes and the Joquin Foster evening bag—the black one with the pearl clasp.”
“That’s funny. The woman I’m talking about? She’s terrible with dates and times, but she never forgets an outfit. You sure remember yours, too.”
“It’s important to dress appropriately, to present the correct image—and not to repeat in the same venue.”
“Right. You and Lori Brinkman were in the ladies’ lounge together at the same time. You’d been crying.”
“I—I don’t remember that.” Daphne’s gaze cut away. “She may be mistaken.”
“You told her, when she asked, you had a headache.”
“Oh. I sometimes get headaches. It’s a weakness.”
“I get headaches. Anybody calls me weak, I’ll kick their ass. But that’s just me.”
“I…” It seemed to hit her, all at once. “They were attacked, like me? Rosa was hurt, like me?”
“Rosa was the first.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Her eyes, a striking green against her tawny skin, shimmered. “I liked her so much. She’s so smart and funny and kind. Is she—is she—”
“I saw her today. She’s holding her own. It’s been hard, you know it’s hard. But she’s going to counseling, and she’s talking to Lori. It’s helping them to talk to each other. They’d both like to see you, talk to you.”
“Oh. Oh, I don’t know. I don’t know if I can, if I should.” As she spoke, her voice hitching, she looked all around the room.
“He’s not here to tell you what to do, what not to do.”
Daphne’s hands stopped pulling at her pajama top, clutched together in her lap. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“We’ll leave that for now. What I’m saying is: Both these women understand, and they want to reach out. Because it could help you, and because it helps them. Peabody’s going to leave their contact information, and you can decide if and when.”
“Are they ashamed?” Daphne whispered.
“Not anymore, because they know they didn’t do anything to be ashamed of. They survived, Daphne, like you did. This man— Look at me, okay? Look here. Anyone who preys on someone they see as weaker, who hurts them, violates them, traps them— Are you hearing me?”
Eve waited until Daphne nodded.
“Anyone who deliberately makes someone else feel le
ss, feel helpless? That person is a coward. They’re the weak ones, the shameful ones. What’s not weak, not shameful, is taking help that’s offered. You said Rosa is smart and funny and kind. Lori struck me as the same. We can all use the smart, funny, and kind. So think about it.
“Peabody?”
“Already done.” Peabody hit print on her PPC, took the printout, set it on the table by the bed. “When you’re ready.”
“Maybe I’ll talk to Del, and to Dr. Mira, ask them.”
“That’s a good idea. Is there anything else before we go? Anything more you remember?”
“I’m sorry. Every time I try to think about it, to remember, I can’t breathe. His hands are on my throat, squeezing, when I try to remember.”
“It’s okay.”
“I—I have a question.”
“Go ahead.”
“How can it be all of us, all, were at the same place before? That I knew Rosa and met this other woman? How can that be?”
“It’s a good question. I’m working on the answer.”
Eve stepped out, spotted the uniform chatting up a couple of nurses. Eve signaled her back before they left.
“She shows the signs,” Peabody commented. “Submissive, self-critical, unwilling or unable to make decisions without directives. Appears to have been cut off from family and friends.”
“Classic battered spouse,” Eve agreed. “Contact the lawyer. We need a conversation.”
“Do you think she’ll contact the other women?”
“I think when her doctors nudge her to, she may. She was happy to see us. She’s in that room basically alone. I think she’s used to being alone, being grateful to have anyone to talk to. I’m contacting her foster family, and we’ll see where that leads.”
She checked her wrist unit as they rode the elevator down. “Do this. Let Dominick know I’m on my way, then go back to the crime scene. You’ll know what she’d want or need better than I would. Put it together, snag a uniform to send it back. I’ll either swing back by and get you or you meet me at the border collie’s or the lawyer’s.”
“I can do that. She doesn’t even know if she has the funds to pay her hospital bill or to get a hotel room.”