Eve signaled to the two uniforms. “Give me what you’ve got,” she ordered when they crossed to her.
“We responded to the nine-one-one from the MTs already on scene, arrived on scene at eleven-twenty-one. Ms. Fitzwalter let us in. The MTs were already with the DB. We, like the MTs, had the alert on the egg, the potential hazard, so we moved the wit and MTs back here, contacted Dispatch for the hazmat team.”
“Ms. Fitzwalter’s pretty shaky, sir,” the second officer put in. “I know her, seeing as I grew up near her bookstore. It’s like an institution in the West Village. I knew the vic, Lieutenant. She worked in the store.”
“You were friends with the victim?”
“Friendly. We didn’t grow up together, seeing as she’s got ten or twelve years on me, but I’d see her in there, have a word now and then. It’s a good store, been around for like fifty years, family run. Like I said, it’s an institution.”
“Okay. You start the knock-on-doors. And when we’re done here, you can do the same in the bookstore area, since you know it.”
“Yes, sir. Can I—since I know her, can I give Ms. Fitzwalter my condolences again before we start?”
“Go ahead.”
She watched the woman, face sheet pale, eyes glazed with tears, unclutch her hands and reach for one of the officer’s. He bent to her, murmuring while she clung to his hand, nodded.
Eve waited until the uniforms left before she approached. “Ms. Fitzwalter, I’m Lieutenant Dallas. This is Detective Peabody. We’re very sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you. I can’t— She’s my baby. She’s my girl.”
“Ms. Fitzwalter, can I get you something? Some water?”
She raised her ravaged eyes to Peabody. “No, no, I don’t think I could swallow anything.”
Eve slid onto the padded bench of the breakfast nook to face her, made room for Peabody.
“Ms. Fitzwalter, I know this is difficult, but we need to ask you some questions.”
“I know. I know how it works. I’ve read countless police procedurals in my time. I never thought … Who would do this? Elise never hurt anyone in her life. This is going to shatter her father, and Jay, the boys. I don’t know how to tell them.”
“We’ll help you,” Peabody told her.
“I know who you are. I read Nadine Furst’s book. I’ve recommended it more times than I can say.” She leaned forward, a pretty woman with a lovely swing of auburn hair. “Is it true, what she wrote about you? That you care, that you won’t stop until you have answers? That you’ll do everything, everything that can be done to find who did this?”
Eve decided simple was best. “Yes.”
Catherine breathed out, lowered her head. “I need to know. We’ll all need to know. Nothing can bring my girl back, but we need to know. You want to know if I know anyone who would want to hurt her.”
She lifted her head again. “I swear I don’t. No one’s threatened her. She’d have told me. We talked about everything, anything. She and Jay have a good marriage, a fun, loving one, are raising good young men. Have they had spats? Of course. But they’ve been married twenty years.
“I want to tell you about her.”
“All right.”
“She’s a good daughter—not that she didn’t give her father and me some headaches along the way. She met Jay in college, and neither one of them ever looked back, or at anyone else. They shared a love of books. We raised her with books. When Rob and I retire—if ever—she was going to take over the store. She loved her family, loved her home. She loved tending it, making it a happy place, a good place. Like her dad, she was organized, almost terrifyingly.”
The faintest smile came and went. “She ran on lists, had her schedules. You could count on her to be where she said she’d be when she said she’d be there. She loved hosting friends, and fussing so they’d—”
She stopped, let out a gasp. “Oh God, oh my God. The book club. They’ll be here at one. We hold a book club here once a month, that’s why I’m here. I—I—I picked up the desserts.”
“Peabody.”
“It’s all right.” Peabody slid out. “I’ll take care of it.”
When Peabody left, Eve drew Catherine’s attention back. “You came early.”
“Yes, yes. I had the desserts, and I was going to help her finish setting up, just spend some time with her. She didn’t answer. I thought she might be in the shower. She’d want to fix herself up before everyone got here. I know my girl, and she’d have been cleaning and fussing first. So I used my swipe and came in.”