Chapter Two
She walked past a formal dining area with its long black table under a black-and-white fountain chandelier and through the kitchen, again black-and-white with big globe lights over the white island, a smaller version over the big black sink.
The black-and-white-striped table sat in front of narrow triple windows for casual dining.
They’d gone for color in the lounge area, adding red and a few bounces of blue to the black and white. White shelving with bench seats and some sort of red-and-blue pattern behind the shelves flanked a wall screen.
The widow sat in a chair covered with minute red-and-blue checks and clutched a wineglass.
She had a long, waving fall of auburn hair with expertly placed gilt streaks.
Her eyes, deep and darkly green, showed the ravages of weeping.
Pallor made the color she’d put in her cheeks, on her lips, around her eyes stand out like the paint on a doll.
She wore a dress, dove gray but with hints of sparkle, shoes, skinny-heeled, that matched. The red stones at her ears, around her wrist—with a glint that said ruby—popped like blood.
Regel’s partner, young, solemn, with a sharp look in her eyes, got to her feet.
“Lieutenant Dallas, Officer Seven.”
“We’ll take it from here, Officer. Thank you.”
Rachel Chu looked up from her wineglass. “You’ve been very kind, Officer Seven.”
“I’m sorry for your loss, ma’am.”
Rachel merely nodded. “I know who you are,” she said to Eve. “Both of you. Did you see what they did to Larry? Did you see what they did to him?”
“Yes, ma’am. We’re also sorry for your loss. I understand how difficult this is, but I need to ask you some questions.”
“I’m having wine. I didn’t want to lose control because you have to ask me questions. I need to answer them. But I don’t know why anyone would do this. I don’t understand how anyone could.”
Eve took the chair facing her. “When did you last see or speak with your husband?”
“This morning, at breakfast. We texted later, but that was the last time . . . I left before he did. I had an early meeting. I’m head of human resources for Pitigrew.
We’re a placement service for temporary and permanent employment.
Larry is . . . Larry was director of bioengineering science for Banner-Wyst. Ah, scientific research and development. ”
“Was he having any issues at work?”
“No, I don’t think so. He would have told me. Not specifics because I don’t understand his work. Biotech and all the rest. I’ve tried to think.”
She pressed fingers against her left temple as if to push those thoughts out.
“It’s important to try to think, but there’s no one I know who’d want to hurt him.”
“In his position, he’d be required to supervise, reprimand, perhaps terminate employment.”
“Yes. I don’t know of anyone. We talk about work in generalities because what do I know about bioengineering?
But we talk. He’d say so-and-so screwed this up, or that new hire I told you about’s working out great, or isn’t.
Larry gets along with people, in fact does what he can to avoid conflict, find a compromise.
And I know him. We’ve been together for thirty-six years. ”
She took a slow sip of wine.
“He would recommend further training, shift projects, recommend a transfer before firing someone. Firing? Last resort. Because I know him, he wouldn’t have to tell me if he’d been worried, if something was wrong.
I’d see it, hear it in his voice. I’d know, and he wasn’t.
In fact, we were meeting friends for dinner tonight.
I had to cancel—the officer said I could.
I didn’t tell them. I said something came up.
I didn’t want to say it out loud. Not yet. ”
When her voice quavered, she lifted the wine, drank deep. “Once I say it out loud, it’s real. There’s no going back.”
“Ms. Chu, who has your husband’s security code for the house?”
“Security code? No one. I don’t even have his. I have my own. Allen has his own. It’s more limited than ours, but—”
“Allen McKay?”
“Yes, he works for us. The droid is more backup. Allen sees to the house, the meals. The droid generally sees to breakfast, but Allen keeps the pantry, the AutoChef stocked. Deals with laundry, light housekeeping.”
“How long has he worked for you?”
“Ah, eight years. It may be nine. Eight or nine. Lieutenant, he’s almost like family. He couldn’t have done this.”
“Your security shows he left the house before the attack. But we’ll want to speak with him. I’ll want his contact information.”
“All right. It’s on my ’link. He lives a few blocks away.” Pausing, she looked around vaguely. “He and his husband adopted a baby last spring.”
“Why don’t you take me through what happened when you got home this evening?”
“I had to work late. We had a few issues, and when you’re in charge, you have to fix them. Larry and I understood that about each other. I texted him, told him I’d be late, and he answered that he was nearly home, but he had work he needed to deal with there.”
“What time was that?”
“I’m not sure. I think about three-thirty. I think. I reminded him about meeting Carin and Ham for dinner, eight o’clock at Mondale’s, because he’d need to change, and I probably wouldn’t get home until six or six-thirty.”
“Could I see the texts?”
“What? Oh, of course. My ’link’s in my purse. I . . . I left it on the table in the foyer. I think. I’ll go get it.”
“Why don’t I get that for you?” Roarke said.
“Thanks.” Eve gave him a glance, then turned back to Rachel. “You stated his office door was locked. Was that usual when he worked in there?”
“No, not routinely. Now and again, yes. When I came in, I saw the door closed. I think I just shook my head. I sent him another text as I went upstairs, just a reminder. Then I didn’t think about it again until I’d freshened up, changed, then realized how late it was, and he hadn’t come up.
So I sent him another text, then another.
I was trying not to be angry, but we haven’t seen Carin and Ham for months. They were in Europe all summer.
“So I went down,” she said when Roarke came back with a glittery little evening bag.
“I sent another text, and now I wasn’t getting angry, I was worried.
It wasn’t like him not to answer. Maybe once if he’d been in the middle of something, but not that many times.
I got the key, and I unlocked the door.”
For a moment, those dark green eyes unfocused.
“I didn’t go in. I didn’t even know it was him at first. How could it be? I screamed for him to come, to come quick, to call the police. Then I realized . . . then I knew. I was sick. I got to the powder room, and I was sick. I called the police.”
She drank more wine, then set the glass down to take the ’link out of her purse. She tried to tap in her code.
“I’m sorry, I can’t do it. My hands are shaking.”
“Would you like me to open it?”
“Please.” She handed Eve the ’link, gave her the code.
Eve found the texts, the first sent at three-thirty-five.
She scrolled through the conversation. Working late, me, too, but at home. Carin and Ham. Can’t wait to see them.
Then the text when Rachel got home sent at six-thirty-six, and unanswered. Another: Larry, you need to come up and change!—sent at seven-oh-eight. Another at seven-fourteen: Damn it, you’re going to make us late! The last: I swear, I’m going to leave without you! sent at seven-eighteen.
“Ms. Chu, I’d like to keep your ’link for now. Do you have another?”
“I . . . have an old one somewhere. And there’s a house ’link, and my tablet. Please don’t erase them.” She pressed her lips together. “It’s the last time we spoke.”
“No, ma’am, we won’t erase them. And we’ll get the ’link back to you. Can you tell me if you’ve noticed anyone near the house, in the neighborhood who gave you a bad feeling?”
“No.”
“Can you think of anyone who would want to hurt you by hurting your husband?”
“No. God.” She shut her eyes a moment. “If I had any idea, any inkling, I’d tell you. You saw what they did to him. I know who you are, both of you. I have to believe you’ll find who did this to him. You’ll find them. I don’t care why. Maybe I will, but now? I only care who.”
“Ms. Chu, I’m going to ask Roarke to change your husband’s security code, and yours, and McKay’s. We’ll give you all three, but for your safety, we’re going to change them.”
“You think someone had his code? I don’t know how that could be.”
“It’s a precaution. Is there someone I can contact for you?”
“I’m not ready to say it yet. If you could contact our oldest, tell him, ask him to tell his brother? If they could come. I don’t want to be alone, but I don’t want them to see . . .”
“Your husband will be taken to the morgue. Ms. Chu,” she said as the woman began to tremble all over, “he will be treated with care and compassion, that I can promise. I’ll give you the contact for Dr. Morris, the chief medical examiner.
He’ll arrange for you and your sons, if you wish, to see your husband tomorrow. ”
“He’s not there anymore. Whoever did this took Larry away. No, I don’t want them to see what was done to their father.”
“We’ll block off the room for now. I may need to come back. I may have more questions.”
“I’ll never go in that room again. We love this house. We’ve been here for over twelve years. I don’t know how to be here now. Yes, please call my son. Bradley, Bradley Chu. He’s on my ’link. Is it all right if I go upstairs? I’d like to lie down for a little while.”
“Yes, of course. We’ll be out of your way as soon as possible.”
As soon as possible took another hour. She spoke with the sweepers. She wanted them to include the courtyard area outside the windows, take samples of every area of blood.
Since Bradley Chu and his wife, Tricia, arrived ten minutes after she made notification, she took more time there.
“If I could have a moment.”
“My mom . . .”
“I’ll go up.” Tricia, a tall brunette in olive-green sweats, gripped Bradley’s hand, then turned in to hold him. “I’ll go up to her, Brad.”
“All right. Thanks. Okay.”