“Is it all right if I check the feed?” Peabody asked. “Just to cross it off.”
“Yes, yes. Alice can show you.” Lake gestured. “A home invasion?” she continued as Peabody left. “Their home seems very secure.”
“We’re investigating. What was your relationship with Anthony Strazza?”
“We were colleagues. I’m his chief.”
“And you socialized?”
“Yes. That’s part of being chief. Anthony was a brilliant surgeon. Orthopedic surgeon. His talents will be sorely missed.”
“Just his talents?”
“I had no issue with Anthony.” She spoke carefully, politically. “I respected his skills. We weren’t friends, but colleagues.”
“He was a difficult man. Lucy,” O’Connor said when she shot him a sharp look. “It’s no secret. Surgeons are often difficult.” He gave his wife’s hand a squeeze as he spoke. “He was well respected, admired for his skill. He was not particularly well liked.”
“Anybody particularly dislike him?”
“Enough to kill him?” Lake shook her head. “I could see a dozen who might get into an altercation, might take a swing in the heat of the moment. But to invade his home, to kill him? To attack his wife? No.”
She leaned back on the couch, shook her head again. “No. And people tend to like Daphne. It would be easy to disdain her. The young, beautiful trophy wife, marrying status and money. But she simply didn’t fit that slot. There’s a shy sweetness about her, and a kindness. She doesn’t flaunt and strut and demand. Initially she volunteered at the hospital once a week in the pediatric unit. But after a few months, Anthony said it was too stressful for her.”
“Was it?”
“I couldn’t say. I do know she won over a lot of skeptics during that time. She has a quiet way, remembers everyone’s name—their children’s names. She hosts lovely parties, and faithfully attends all the often-tedious events required of a doctor’s spouse. We don’t know her very well—again, we’re not friends—but I like her.”
“As do I,” O’Connor confirmed. “A sweet girl. And, I think, browbeaten.”
“John.”
“Lucy,” he returned, in the same exasperated tone. “You asked if anyone disliked him particularly. I did. Very much disliked him. He was cold, arrogant, egotistical. Some would say a perfectionist, a fine trait in a surgeon. I’d say overbearingly demanding of perfection. There’s a difference.”
“Yeah, there is. I appreciate your candor. Did he have any altercations with colleagues, staff, patients?”
“Altercations, yes. Incidents, no,” Lake said firmly. “We work in stress, in life and death, every day. Altercations happen. I’ve fielded complaints, formal and informal, regarding Anthony’s behavior, his treatment of other doctors, interns, nurses, orderlies. I’ve done the same for any number of doctors on staff.”
Eve changed tack. “You say most like Mrs. Strazza. Could anyone you know have misconstrued her kindness, wanted more from her?”
“An affair?” Lake’s eyebrows winged up. “Absolutely not. Believe me, that’s the sort of thing that runs through the hospital grapevine like wine. I’d have heard.”
“Let’s go back to the party. Was there any trouble? Any arguments? Any sort of tension?”
“No. It was a lovely evening.”
“Do you know who catered it?”
“Mmm.” Lake frowned. “I imagine Jacko’s. I asked Daphne last year who she used, as the company I’d used for years changed management—and wasn’t working out well. It was Jacko’s, and I recognized a couple of the servers, as we’ve used Jacko’s a few times since.”
Peabody came back. Eve caught the signal, wrapped it up. “We appreciate the time,” she said as she got to her feet. “If you think of anything else, please contact me.”
Lake rose. “Please let me know how—when—we can make arrangements for Anthony. Daphne may need help in that area. We weren’t friends, but I was his chief.”
“Understood, but his parents are coming in, so—”
“His parents.” Lake’s brows drew together. “I was under the impression they’d cut him off, wanted nothing to do with him.”
“That wasn’t the impression I got when I notified them. Where did you get yours?”