“I— Anthony said as much to me. That when he refused to kowtow to their every wish and whim, they stopped speaking to him.”
Interesting, Eve thought. “What about his ex-wife?”
“I didn’t know her very well. She was distant, and I’d say on the brittle side. She— He said she’d tried to clean out their accounts, and had had one too many affairs. She ran off to Europe, I think.
“I can’t verify any of that,” Lake said quickly. “I don’t interfere with the personal lives of my people unless it overlaps the work. But Anthony was up-front about the divorce, took a month’s leave to sort things out. I don’t see how that could apply.”
“Information’s information. Thanks again.”
Peabody waited until they were back in the car. “They got home at eleven-thirteen. Locks engaged. No activity until Alice arrived at seven sharp. She adores them, by the way. I prodded some. She’s family—that’s how they think of each other. She’s been with them nearly thirty years. Her impressions of Strazza aren’t as warm and fuzzy. Can’t say she knows him, but he’s been around for parties and such. Likes people to stay in their place—or his idea of their place, according to Alice. No chitchat with staff. You don’t suspect them.”
“I don’t see O’Connor sneaking out of his house, sneaking back into theirs, laying into the wife—you can see he’s soft on her. Like paternally. Can’t see him killing Strazza and walking around taking goodies. But they gave me a picture. We’re swinging by the hospital first. I guarantee the two doctors won’t be far behind us.”
“What’s the picture?”
“Strazza was an asshole, disliked if respected. And very likely a big, fat liar. Claimed his parents cut him off, which I don’t buy. And his ex-wife had one too many affairs. A guy like Strazza? It would only take one. We’re going to want to talk to the ex, and the parents. Get some finer details on the picture.”
“I hate when the vic’s an asshole.”
“Happens.”
“Yeah, happens. And it widens the suspect pool.”
“It can. Caterer was likely Jacko’s. Check on that, and get us a list of who worked the party.”
“Can do.” Peabody pulled out her ’link as Eve drove to the hospital.
Two cups of coffee helped, but Eve wondered if she could just get a shot of straight caffeine. It was a hospital, after all. She hated shots, but she’d suffer through it for a good, strong jolt.
She badged her way to the ER desk, and after some dithering got the section and floor where Daphne Strazza had been relocated. Worked her way there, to that desk, badged again.
Yeah, she’d take the shot.
“I have to contact Dr. Nobel,” the nurse told her.
“Fine by me, but we’re going to her room now. Which way, or I’ll just swagger around with my badge and weapon until I find the uniform on her door.”
“Down this corridor and to the right. She’s in 523.”
“Got it.”
“I’m not sure I can pull off a swagger,” Peabody commented as they started down.
“Not in those sissy boots.”
“They’re not sissy boots.”
“They’re pink and have fluff. That’s the definition of sissy.”
She spotted the uniform in a chair outside 523, playing on his PPC. He heard her non-sissy boots on the tile and rose, sliding the PPC into his pocket as he came to attention.
“Lieutenant. No one but medical staff in or out. The nurse checked her about ten minutes ago. She’s awake.”
“Good. Stand by, Officer. We’ll order in your relief.”
Eve and Peabody walked in.
Daphne lay in the bed, her upper body slightly elevated. Her color looked nearly normal, and medical treatment had eased a lot of the bruising and swelling on her face. She stared blankly out the window until Eve moved into her field of vision.
Daphne blinked. “I … know you.”
“I’m Lieutenant Dallas. I brought you in.”
“Yes. With the man. He has blue eyes. I remember his blue eyes.”
“Hard to forget. This is my partner, Detective Peabody.”
“Oh.” Daphne shifted her gaze. “Hello.”
“Mrs. Strazza.” Eve pulled her attention back. “I regret to inform you, your husband was killed early this morning.”
Daphne continued to stare. “Killed? But he’s very important.”