“The throat’s effective,” De Winter confirmed, “but very messy, especially in a public place. The heart takes more precision. The brachial is a long artery, so increases the target. An inch lower, or higher? You’d get the same result. Not so with the heart.”
“Got that. Good, and I agree.”
“As for who might know, there’s this interesting tool. They call it the Internet.”
“Yeah, yeah, anybody can find out anything. But you have to be looking.”
“But you do think the killer was looking.” DeWinter looked down at Mars again. “For her.”
“Most likely. She left her purse—and her wallet in it with cash and credit, her ’link. She’s wearing jewelry that looks like it’s worth the steal. They didn’t bother. So that eliminates that motive.”
Eve pushed up. “We’ll see what she has to say to Morris. Have Peabody take your statement.”
“Mine?”
“You’re a wit, DeWinter, so yeah. Let’s be thorough. Then you should go home. Your kid’s probably wondering where you are.”
“I texted her I’d be late. And no, I didn’t tell her why.”
“Good. Go spell it out for Peabody, and go home. You did what you could, for her, and afterward. I followed her blood trail, and I’m with Sterling. She was dead before she dropped. Her brain just hadn’t gotten the memo yet.”
“I’ve never actually seen someone die,” DeWinter admitted. “It’s different, going into the field, examining remains, or having bones on my table at the lab. Yes, I’ll go home. I want to hug my daughter. Can you keep me updated on the investigation?”
“I can do that.”
After DeWinter stepped outside the curtain, Eve took another moment to study the dead.
She hadn’t thought of Larinda Mars in years, and when she had thought of her at that time, had felt little more than a mild distaste and contempt.
Obviously someone had felt a great deal more.
“Who’d you piss off, Mars?”
Still shielded, she took out her PPC and began a run on Fabio Bellami.
She stepped out and nearly into Roarke as he reached forward to part the shield.
“You made good time. I need you to hold a minute.”
She carried the evidence bags she’d taken inside the curtain to the box Emily set on the bar. After setting the bags in, she pulled securing tape out of her kit, sealed the box, marked it.
“Larinda Mars,” Roarke said.
“Yeah.” She looked over, noting that the number of witnesses had diminished by more than half. Peabody sat with DeWinter. “I’ll run it through for you, but I want to clear these people out. We’re going to have to shut your place down for a while.”
“Understood.”
“McNab should have the exterior feed, and I’m going to need to go over that. Interior feed would’ve helped a lot.”
“Patrons don’t like being on camera in a high-end pub. And we find murder a very rare activity here.”
His voice was clipped, cool. She couldn’t blame him for it.
“Also understood. I need to finish getting statements. The morgue team’s on its way, and so are the sweepers. You’re going to need to hold on awhile longer.”
She let in the morgue team herself, and the sweepers. Directed both groups. By the time they were at their work only a handful of people remained in the chairs and booths, all staff.
She sat down with Cesca.