“You wanted impressions, right? Back a year or so ago, we were working out the details, the menu for a party. Sitting in the dining room of their place with charts and lists and the samples of desserts I’d brought. Having some coffee. Having some fun with it, and she was laughing. He came in, and I saw it. Just for a second. I saw fear in her eyes. She covered it, jumped up, reminding him who I was, what we were doing. All bright and shiny. But her fingers were trembling when she reached for one of the charts we’d worked on.”
Jacko’s mouth tightened. “We never met like that again. Mostly worked things out via ’link or e-mail.”
The woman who’d been ringing up sales came in through the swinging doors, studied Eve, Peabody. “Mom said to give the police this disc.” She pulled it out of her pocket. “It’s got the names, contact numbers, addresses of everybody who worked the Strazza event. And how long they’ve worked for us, if they’re family.”
She looked at her father. “Mom’s taken over for me on the counter. I’m supposed to talk to the police.”
Leaning down, Jacko gave her a smacking kiss on the top of her head. “Nothing to worry about, baby.”
“Dr. Strazza was killed? And Mrs. Strazza’s hurt?”
Xena had the same big blue eyes as her cousin, and a bundle of gold-streaked chestnut hair under a white cap. She took a bright red water bottle out of her apron pocket, guzzled. “I just can’t believe it. But it couldn’t have been any of us. I mean, none of us would ever … Plus, everybody left before me and Hugh. All of us, I mean.”
“You’re sure of that.”
“I know everybody on that list. My brother’s on that list. He worked as bartender, and he left before dessert. Nat and I served that, then I sent her home. All the kitchen staff but Elroy left during dessert. And he left with Nat. We had Bryar, Zach, and Hugh on valet—Hugh served as runner. What I mean is, he worked wherever he was needed. Hugh told me Zach and Bryar left together, walking to the subway. Even in a good neighborhood, Dad doesn’t like any of the girls to walk by themselves after an event. Lacy served as bartender with Noah, my brother, and she left with Rachel, Trevor, and Marty—kitchen staff. Rachel, Trevor, Marty, and I live together. They were still up when I got home.”
“Okay. Did you notice anything, looking back, anything that seemed off?”
“Honestly, no. You’ve really got to be on your toes when you’re doing a multicourse, sit-down dinner for fifty. We served the first course in the living area, and set up the dining room table while that was being served. Cleared the first course while the main was going on, made sure the right wine was offered, glasses were filled. Mrs. Strazza had a playlist, so there was that. Then it was back to the l
iving room—but without the tables and chairs—for dessert.”
“What do you mean ‘without the tables and chairs’?”
“Well, not her tables and chairs. The rentals, for the fancy first course.”
“What company?”
“Loan Star,” father and daughter said together.
“We’ve done events with them for years,” Jacko continued. “They’re solid.”
“When do they bring in the rentals, take them away?”
“They brought them about five,” Xena told her. “I was there to supervise the setup. Nat and I did the table decor—with Mrs. Strazza. She likes to have a hand in. They picked them up at eight-thirty. We cleared, they came in. In and out in about ten or fifteen minutes.”
“Did you know the crew?”
“Ah … mostly. I mean … I’m not sure. We were so busy.” She looked at her father. “Oh, Dad.”
“You don’t worry.” He came around the island, pulled her to him. “You don’t worry about this.”
“He’s right,” Eve said. “Do you remember how many in the rental crew?”
“Four—no, five. Five. I do know a couple of them. But I was busy, just didn’t have time to think about it.”
“If you remember anything more, contact me or Detective Peabody. We appreciate your time, the help. And everything else.”
Rubbing his daughter’s back, Jacko looked over her head. “Can Mrs. Strazza have visitors?”
“I wouldn’t say right now.”
“Can we check with her doctor, see if we can send her some soup?”
“Delroy Nobel at St. Andrew’s. You do what you do, Jacko,” Eve said. “We’ll do what we do.”
* * *