“Mrs. Patrick, you’ve used Jacko’s Catering, correct?”
&
nbsp; “On Screen’s used them, and I recommended them to a friend who was in charge of that area for a fund-raiser. She used them personally after that.”
“How long ago did you recommend them?”
“Last year, I think … Yes, it would’ve been around this time last year for a fund-raiser we were doing in March. She had food and beverage, I was flowers and decor. They were very good, and she used them for a dinner party later. We—I—we haven’t done much socializing since the summer, so I can’t say if she’s used them again.”
“How about Loan Star Rentals?”
“Several committees I’ve been on use Loan Star. They’re reliable and have a diverse catalog. I don’t understand.”
“It’s details, that’s all,” Eve said easily. “Every detail can matter. Could I have the name of the friend who worked with Jacko’s?”
“Marlene Dressler.”
“Did you have much interaction with the staff of either company?”
“Some, but Marlene’s so efficient. And the rental company, I wouldn’t have been in charge there, either. I’d have helped with the setup if I was around. You think someone from one of those vendors—”
“We’re going to look at everything, everyone. St. Andrew’s Hospital.”
“I chaired a committee for two of their fund-raisers, and have served on the committee for others.”
“Who did you work with, from the hospital?”
“Oh, the first was more than two years ago.” As she rubbed her temple, Rosa looked a little lost. “At least two. I don’t— Wait, I do remember. It was for the pediatric wing. I worked with Daphne Strazza. Her husband’s a surgeon there. I liked her so much.”
“So you’ve kept in touch?” Eve prompted.
“Actually, no. We had lunch a couple of times, then, well, she could never make it. Then Neville and I got engaged, and there were wedding plans, and finding a home. We lost contact.”
“Happens,” Eve said. “You haven’t seen or spoken to her in a while?”
“At least a year. Probably more. When the committee contacted me again for the annual event, I asked, and they told me she wasn’t involved any longer. It’s a shame. Some people have a knack for this kind of work. I thought she did.”
“Did she ever come here?”
“No.” Frowning, Rosa picked up her tea. Her hands had steadied. “We wouldn’t have had any reason to. We met at the hospital, or at my home or hers. And a couple of times in a restaurant. There were twenty or so of us involved in the project. We were cochairs that year, so we talked and met more often.”
“Can you give me the names of the others on that committee?”
“I’d need to check my book on it. I don’t remember everyone. It was two years ago, more. And I used to do a lot of this sort of work. I haven’t been as involved since…”
“Why?” Neville spoke up. “Why does this matter?”
“It’s been released to the media, and reported by same, so I’m able to tell you that Daphne Strazza and her husband were assaulted in their home Saturday night. We believe by the same individual who assaulted you and the Brinkmans.”
“Daphne?” Shock and sympathy echoed as Rosa clutched at Neville’s hand. “Like us?”
“Yes. She was more severely injured, physically, but is recovering. Her husband was killed during the assault.”
Color leached from Rosa’s face. “He’s dead?”
“This individual is escalating. Let me say that I believe, absolutely, he’s done with you. He has no reason to ever come back. And what you’ve been able to tell us here gives us that other piece. You’re going to have helped us find him.”
“Are you sure it wasn’t her husband who hurt her?”