Innocent In Death

2

“I’M ALLOWING THIS INTERVIEW,” HE BEGAN,“ in this place, at this time, because I feel it’s in the best interest of my daughter’s emotional well-being. However, if I don’t like the tone or the texture of this interview, I will stop it and take my daughter away. Is that clear?”

“Sure. I was going to dig out the thumbscrews, but I don’t remember where I left them. Have a seat. Rayleen, I just need you to tell me what happened.”

Rayleen looked at her father first, got his nod. Then she sat, as he did, with admirable posture. “I found Mr. Foster. Melodie was with me. It was awful.”

“Explain to me how you found him. How you got to his classroom at that time of day.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She took a deep breath as if to prepare herself for an oral report. “I was in my study group, but I wanted, especially, to talk to Mr. Foster about the project I’m working on with Melodie. It’s worth a full quarter of our second-term grade in U.S. history, and I wanted to do the best I could. I’m ranked first in my grade, and this is one of the most important projects of this term.”

“Okay, so you left study group for Mr. Foster’s classroom.”

“Yes, ma’am. Ms. Hallywell gave us a pass so we could go to Mr. Foster’s class early. He always has his lunch there on Mondays, and he lets students come in during the last fifteen minutes to talk to him, if they need to.”

“What time did you leave study group?”

“I have the pass. It’s time-stamped.” Again she looked at her father for permission, then drew the pass out. “Melodie and I each have one. That’s the school rule. It says twelve forty-sevenP. M. ”

Eve made a mental note to walk the route to gauge the time it would take. “You went directly from study group to the classroom.”

“Oh, yes, ma’am. Loitering in the hallways between classes is an infraction, and three infractions within a thirty-day period results in a loss of privileges.” Her voice went prissy, reminding Eve that Rayleen was just the sort of kid she’d done her best to avoid in the cell block of school. “I don’t have any infractions on my record.”

“Good for you. How long did it take you to get from study group to Mr. Foster’s classroom?”

“Oh, it couldn’t have been more than a couple of minutes. Maybe three? I’m not absolutely certain, but we went right there. We were just talking, about the project, and some ideas for it. The door was closed, so we knocked first, then we opened it. And it smelled bad. It smelled sick, I guess. Melodie said something about the smell, and…” She pressed her lips together. “I laughed. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know, Daddy, I didn’t know.”

“It’s all right, Ray. Of course you didn’t know.”

“Then we saw him. He was lying there, and he was…” She hiccupped twice, then simply crawled out of her chair and into her father’s lap.

“It’s all right, baby. It’s all right, Ray.” His eyes lasered into Eve’s as he stroked Rayleen’s hair. “Lieutenant.”

“You know I need to finish this. You know it’s vital to get the details as quickly as possible.”

“I don’t know what else.” Her voice was muffled as she pressed her face to her father’s chest. “We ran, we ran away. And Mr. Dawson was there, and he said to stay where we were. I sat down, I think. I sat on the floor, and we were crying, and Mr. Dawson came back. His hands were shaking when he took out his talkie and called Principal Mosebly.”

“Did you see anybody else go in or out of the classroom?”

“Principal Mosebly went to the door, then she called for the nurse and they took us-Melodie and me-to the infirmary.”

“On the way to the classroom, did you see anyone?”

“I think, yes, I think Mr. Bixley came out of the boys’ room, the restroom. He had his toolbox because one of the sinks was stopped up. That was before, before we passed Mr. Dawson and showed our passes. I went in first, into the classroom first. I was the first to see him.”

She lifted her tear-streaked face. “I don’t see how Mr. Foster could be dead. I don’t see how. He was my very favorite teacher.”

Her shoulders shook as she clung to her father.

“You can’t need any more from her,” Oliver said quietly. “I’m taking her home.”

“If she remembers anything else-”

“If she does, I’ll contact you.”

He rose, and carrying his daughter, strode from the room.

Eve started with Eric Dawson. He was a science teacher, in his middle fifties, and had been instructing at the academy for fifteen years. He carried a little paunch, and since his shirt buttons strained over it, Eve assumed he was in denial over it. His sandy hair showed a little glint of gray at the temples. Pockets of fatigue dogged his light brown eyes.

“I didn’t go in,” he told Eve. “No more than a step or two. I could see…Anyone could see Craig was gone. I’d been annoyed with the girls, all that screaming. I thought they’d seen a spider or something equally foolish.” He paused, passed a hand over his face. “But as soon as I saw them…Even silly girls don’t reach that level of hysteria over a spider.”

“Did you see anyone else, other than the two girls?”

“I’d just left Dave Kolfax and Reed Williams in the staff lounge. We’d had lunch together, as we sometimes do. And I passed Leanne Howard going in. I was going to the chem lab to set up for the next class.”

“When did you last see Mr. Foster alive?”

“Oh, God. God. In the lounge, before classes this morning. I was having a coffee, and he had a tube of Pepsi from Vending. He didn’t drink coffee. I used to tease him about it. We talked a little about a mutual student, Bradley Curtis. His parents are divorcing, and Brad’s grades have been sliding. We agreed it was time for a meeting with the parents and a counselor. Then, ah, Reed came in. Yes, to grab a coffee. When I left they were talking about some action vid they’d both seen recently. I didn’t see him again until…”

“How did you get along?”

“With Craig? I liked him quite a lot. Quite a lot,” he repeated quietly. “I was, well, unconvinced when he first came on staff last year. He was so young-the youngest member of the teaching staff. But he made up for a certain lack of experience with enthusiasm and dedication. He cared a great deal, a great deal about the students. He must have been ill and not known it. He must have had some sort of condition. To die that way. It’s inconceivable.”

The sentiment was echoed by every staff member Eve spoke with. She finished up the session with Reed Williams, English department.

No pouch on this one, Eve noted. He had a strong, lean build that told her he took advantage of the fitness center facilities. His hair was a deep, rich brown tipped with gold to simulate sun streaks. His square jaw was deeply clefted under a firm mouth. His eyes of sharp, bottle green were heavily and darkly lashed.

He was thirty-eight, single, and wearing a suit that she estimated had cost him a stinging slice of his monthly pay.

“I saw him this morning, in the fitness center. He was doing reps when I came in. I don’t like to talk when I’m working out, so it was just a…well, a nod of acknowledgment. I’d say we were in there together for about twenty minutes. He headed out, waved. He generally took a swim after a workout. I was in there another ten minutes, I’d guess. Grabbed a shower, dressed. Then I saw Craig again in the lounge, with Eric. Eric Dawson.”

“Did Mr. Foster have anything with him?”

“With him? No, just a tube of Pepsi. We talked vids for a few minutes, then headed off to class. I ran into him again in the staff restroom.” Williams smiled slightly and showed a single dimple in his left cheek to go with the cleft. “Just a kind of ‘How’s it going?’ as we used the facilities. I guess that was right about eleven. Just before. The classes start on the hour, and I wasn’t late.”

“How did you get along with him?”

“Fine. We got along fine.”

“You both liked action vids. Did you hang out socially?”

“Now and again, sure. I went to his wedding last year-most of the staff did. We had a beer together a couple of times.” He shrugged. “We weren’t best pals, but we got along. Mirri would know him better, socially.”

“Mirri.”

“Hallywell. English department, Drama. They saw each other outside the school.”

“On a social level.”

“Sure.” He smiled a little again, and there was a smirk behind it. “They have a standing date Wednesday nights. To study.”

With the initial interviews done, Eve tagged Peabody again. “Bixley.”

“Hernando M., Maintenance. He was dealing with a plumbing problem in the boys’ john down the hall from the scene. He passed the two wits and Dawson on his way out.”

“Buzz?”

“No. He’s late sixties, worked here for twelve years. His two grandsons attend on his employee tuition rate. Seems like a solid type.”

“Hallywell.”

“Mirri C. Finished her about fifteen minutes ago. English department, runs the Drama Club and directs the school plays. I’m about to interview the last on my list. Is there something about Hallywell? I didn’t get a buzz from her either.”

“I want a quick followup. If she’s still here, I’ll track her down. Find me when you’re done.”

“She was pretty broken up-Hallywell. Might check one of the washrooms. I’d say she’d need to compose herself before she left.”

Following Peabody ’s advice, Eve tried the staff restroom closest to the lounge where Peabody was conducting interviews. The door required a key card; Eve used her master.

And found a woman sitting on the floor in front of the bank of sinks, weeping.

“Mirri Hallywell.”

“Yes. Yes.” She choked back a sob, sniffled, mopped at her face with a tissue. The face was splotchy from the crying jag, the pale blue eyes swollen from it. She had dark hair worn in a brutally short Caesar style and tiny silver hoops in her ears.

“I’m sorry. Are you with the police? I’ve already talked to a detective.”

“My partner. I’m Lieutenant Dallas. I need to ask you a few more questions.”

“Oh, God, oh, God. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to say.”

Eve crouched. “It’s rough when a colleague’s killed, so suddenly.”

“It’s horrible. We weren’t just colleagues. We were friends. We were good friends. None of this seems possible.”

“How good friends?”

Mirri let her head fall back. “That’s a terrible thing to imply, a terrible thing to think about someone like Craig. Someone who can’t speak for himself anymore.”

“I speak for him now. That’s what I do.”

“Then if you’re going to speak for him you should know he loved his wife. They loved each other. I envy that, what they have together. I’m her friend, too. I’m her friend, and I don’t know how to begin to help her through this.”

“You and Craig saw each other every week, outside work.”

“We had a study date on Wednesdays.” Fire came into the ravaged eyes. “For God’s sake, is that what everything whittles down to for people like you?”

“If it was innocent, why get pissed off?” Eve countered.

“Because he’s dead. He’s dead.”

She drew in a shaky breath. “We were both working on our Master’s degrees. We’d go to the library or a coffee shop, study together for a couple hours. Maybe have a beer afterward. We’re going out-I mean, oh, God, I mean we were supposed to go out tomorrow, to the vids. Craig and Lissy and this guy they fixed me up with. I hate being fixed up, but they talked me into this one last month, and it’s worked out pretty well so far. So we’re doing a double date.”

“Mirri, if you and Craig had anything going, now’s the time to tell me.”

“There’s nothing to tell. I’m not so desperate I’d poach a friend.” She scrubbed her hands over her face. “I was going to call Lissy, come in here and call her, even though they said we weren’t to contact anyone. I thought, I need to do that for her, she needs to hear about this from a friend. But I couldn’t.”

Mirri drew up her knees, pressed her face to them. “I just couldn’t. I didn’t know what to say, how to say it, and I didn’t have the guts to try.”

“That’s for us to do.”

“What can you say?” Mirri demanded. “What can you say to someone like this? She’s expecting he’ll be there when she comes home. And he won’t be there. Not tonight, not ever. What can you say?”

Then she sighed, pushed herself to her feet. “It’s not your fault. I wish it were. I wish it could be your fault and I could scream and rave at you for it. Would you tell Lissy…would you just tell her how sorry I am, and that if I can help, if I can do anything…I’ll be there.”

Lissette Foster was an editorial assistant for a small publishing house with offices in midtown. The background Peabody accessed listed her as twenty-four, a native of Martinique who had moved to New York to attend Columbia. The only blight on her record was an underage drinking rap when she’d been nineteen. She’d been given probation, and community service.

Her mother remained in Martinique. Her father’s whereabouts were unknown.

“So,” Peabody continued, “speaking of the islands, how was your vacation?”

“It was good.” A week of sun, sand, and sex. What could be better? “This snow’s starting to stick.”

“Yeah, we’re supposed to get maybe four inches. Are you looking seriously at the wife?”

“She’s first on the list. Spouses tend to be.”

“Yeah, but newlyweds? I know how it’s supposed to be tough the first year, adjusting and whatever, but poison? It’s sneaky and distant. A spouse gets pissed, it’s usually bloodier, and more personal.”

“Usually. If his lunch was poisoned, where did the lunch come from? Consensus is, from home. Wife had the easiest access. Although consensus also is the vic left the bagged lunch in his classroom. Unlocked room. He comes in early, dumps his stuff in the classroom, heads to the fitness center. Again, fairly easy access for anyone.”

“Motive?”

“Other than the pop quiz? Not clear as yet. The wit? Rayleen Straffo is the fruit of Oliver Straffo’s loins.”

“Oh, shit! Seriously? Does she have horns and a tail?”

“If so, well hidden.” Eve tapped her fingers on the wheel as she thought of Straffo. “He could get a lot of screen time with this, playing the Daddy card. Outrage, concern, blah, blah.”

“It’d be just like him. You’re going on Nadine’s new show this week. You can balance his bullshit.”

“Don’t remind me. Stupid damn friendships. They always cost you.”

“You’re so soft and sentimental, Dallas.”

“Yeah, I love that about me.” Judging the snow, the insanity of New York drivers in same, Eve swung into a parking lot two blocks from the address. “I’m not trying for street parking in this snowing crap.”

“I can use the exercise. I, like, ate my way through the holidays, and am expecting McNab to spring for something resembling chocolate for Valentine’s Day, so I need to lose in advance. What are you getting for Roarke?”

“For what?”

“For Valentine’s Day?”

“I just got his Christmas stuff five minutes ago.” She stepped out of the car, remembered the scarf stuffed in her coat pocket. Pulling it out, Eve swung it around her neck.

“Two months ago. And it’sValentine’s Day. For sweethearts. You need to get him a gooey card and a sentimental token. I already got McNab’s. It’s a talking picture frame with our names inscribed on it. I put this shot of the two of us his father took at Christmas? He can keep it in his cube in EDD. Roarke would like something like that.”

“Roarke already knows what we look like.” A minicoupe skidded at the light, fishtailed into the crosswalk, and earned the curses and snarls of pedestrians.

She loved New York.

“Oh, speaking of pictures, I’ve got a new crop of Belle. Have you seen her since you got back?”

“No. Is she asking for tats and belly rings already?”

“Come on. She is so seriously adorable. She’s got Leonardo’s eyes and Mavis’s mouth, and-”

“God help us if she inherits their fashion sense along with it.”

“She smiles at me, every time I pick her up.” Above her scarf, under her watch cap, Peabody ’s eyes went to brown goo. “People say that’s gas, but she smiles at me. She’s getting so big, and she’s…”

While Peabody rhapsodized about Mavis’s infant daughter, Eve listened to the music of New York. The blasting horns, the arguments, the rumbling ad blimps from overhead. Through them were the voices, a rat-a-tat of conversations, a litany of complaints.

“So, what are you going to take her?”

“What? Taking what? Where?”

“To Belle, Dallas, when you go to see her. The gift?”

“What gift?” Seriously stymied, Eve stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. “Why do I have to take a gift?”

“Because.”

“Why? Didn’t I do the shower thing, with gifts, then the hospital thing?”

“Yes, but when you go to visit the baby at home for the first time, it’s traditional to-”

“Who makes this up?” Seriously aggrieved, Eve jabbed a finger into the marshmallow puffiness of Peabody ’s winter coat. “I demand to know who makes these rules. It’s madness. Tell me who it is, and I’ll have them committed for psychiatric evaluation.”

“Aw, Dallas, you just need to bring her a little teddy bear or a pretty rattle. It’s fun shopping for baby stuff.”

“My ass. You know what’s fun?” Eve hauled open the door of the office building. “Finding out who poisoned some poor slob of a history teacher. That’s my idea of fun. Any more talk about shopping, gifts, babies, gooey cards, or Valentine’s Day, my boot’s going so far up your ass you’ll think the toe’s your tongue.”

“A week at the beach sure sweetened your mood. Sir,” Peabody muttered when Eve’s look fried off the top layers of her skin.

Eve turned on her heel toward the security station, and badged the guard. “Lissette Foster.”

“Just a minute, please.” He ran the badge number, the ID ploddingly, thoroughly. “Yes, sir, you’re cleared. Lissette Foster…Foster, Foster. Here we go. She’s with Blackburn Publishing. Editorial. Uh…that’s on the ninth floor. Bank of elevators to your right. Have a productive day.”

“Yeah, you bet. Native of Martinique,” Eve began as they stepped into an elevator to be assaulted with quiet, mind-melting music. “Student visa, most like, work visa maybe. She’d get her green card by marrying a U.S. citizen. And keep her status here as his widow.”

“Easier ways to get a green card.”

“Sure. But maybe things weren’t working, and divorce within two years cancels out the green. Maybe there was more going on in those Wednesday night sessions with Hallywell than studying. You got a job here, you want a life here. Killing to keep it isn’t a stretch.”

They stepped off into a small reception area where a woman sat behind a white counter. She wore a headset and a big, welcoming smile.

“Good afternoon!” she said, so enthusiastically that Eve’s eyes slitted. “Welcome to Blackburn Publishing. How may I help you today?”

“Lissette Foster.”

“Of course. I can certainly find out if Ms. Foster’s free. May I say who’s here to see her, and the nature of your business?”

Eve simply took out her badge again. “We’ll explain all that to Ms. Foster.”

“Oh.” The woman’s eyes bugged as she stared at the badge. “Oh, my. Excuse me.” She swiveled around, spoke into the mouthpiece of her headset in a hissing whisper. “Lissette Foster.” Clearing her throat, she darted a glance back at Eve. “Lissette, there’s someone here in Reception to see you. It’s apolice officer. I don’t know. I really don’t. Okay.”

With her smile strained at the edges, the woman turned back to Eve. “She’ll be right here. If you’d like to sit-”

“We’re fine.”

By the time Eve had unwrapped her scarf, a woman was striding out on ice-pick heels. Those alone indicated some level of insanity to Eve. The heels were cherry red, the pencil-slim suit stone gray. Inside it was an excellent body.

Lissette Foster had luminous skin, heavy-lidded, and currently annoyed, nut-brown eyes. Her hair was nearly the same shade and worn ruler-straight to brush her shoulders.

She moved with purpose, Eve thought. Like a woman with a fire in her belly. It might have sparked from anger, from ambition, or passion, but it was hot.

“You’re police?” Lissette demanded in a brisk tone made exotic by the French accent.

“Lieutenant Dallas, Detective Peabody. We-”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake! I told him we’d keep the music down. Arrest me then.” Drama quivering, she held out her arms, wrists together. “Arrest me for playing music after the ungodly hour of nineP. M. on a Saturday night. I should be dragged away in chains! Just because some retired cop hasissues is no reason to have police coming to where I work. Does he want me to get fired?”

“Ms. Foster, we’re not here about your music. We’d like to speak with your privately. Your office would be best.”

“Office?” Lissette let out a very lusty laugh. “I’m an editorial assistant. I’m lucky I’ve got a cube. What’s this about?”

Eve turned now to the woman at reception. “I need a private room. Office, conference room, lounge, whatever. I want it now.”

“Certainly, certainly. The conference room isn’t booked right now. You can-”

“Fine.” Eve looked back at Lissette. “Let’s go.”

“What’s this about? I have a meeting with the boss in…oh, God, ten minutes. She hates anyone to be late. If you think you can pitch a story idea to someone at my level, I can promise you, you’re wasting your time.”

She wound her way through a maze of cubes and narrow hallways, past offices with tiny windows, corner offices with views to kill.

“Look, I shouldn’t have talked that way about Sergeant Kowoski. Maybe the music was too loud. My husband and I were playing around, pretending we were at some hot club. We were probably a little drunk, and a little loud. I don’t want any trouble.”

She stepped into a room with a dozen chairs around a wide table, long counters along each side wall and screens front and back.

“Can we do this quickly? I really don’t want to be late for my meeting.”

“We’d like you to sit down.”

“This is ridiculous.” Blowing out a breath, she yanked out a chair, sat. Then came straight back to her feet again, with alarm in her eyes. “Oh, God. Has something happened to my mother? Was there an accident? Maman? ”

“No.”

How did you tell someone the person she expected to be waiting for her at home wouldn’t be there tonight? Or any other night? Eve remembered. You told them fast, without flourishes.

“It’s regarding your husband, Mrs. Foster.”

“Craig? He’s still at school.”

“I’m sorry to tell you, your husband’s dead.”

“That’s a terrible thing to say to someone. That’s a vicious, terrible thing to say. I want you to leave, right now. I’m going to call the police-thereal police-and have you arrested.”

“Mrs. Foster, my partner and I are the real police, and we’re the investigators on your husband’s death. He died today at approximately twelve-thirty.”

“Of course he didn’t. He didn’t. He was at school. That’s his lunch break, and he sent me an e-mail just after noon. I packed his lunch this morning. He’s at school, at the Monday faculty meeting right now. And he’s fine.”

Her breath began to come quick, choppy. Her color was fading even as she fumbled a hand behind to brace the table as her legs went out.

“You should sit down, Mrs. Foster,” Peabody said gently. “We’re very sorry for your loss.”

“No. No. Was there a bomb? Was there a bomb at school? Oh, my God. Is he hurt? Is Craig hurt?”

“He died,” Eve said flatly. “I’m very sorry.”

“But he…But he…You could make a mistake. You must have. I should call him. You’ll see. I should call him. But he’s in his Monday meeting. He’s not allowed to have the ’link on when he’s in his Monday meeting. We’ll go there.” She pushed away from the brace of the table, swayed. “We’ll go to the school and to Craig. I need my coat. I’ll just get my coat.”

She looked around, dazed. “Silly, so silly. I couldn’t remember where I was for a minute. I need…what is it?”

“Sit down, Mrs. Foster.”

“No, we have to go. To the school. We have to-” She jumped at the sound of a knock. A blonde in power red stepped in.

“I’d like to know what’s going on here. Lissette?”

“ Elizabeth.” Lissette wore the dull look of sleepwalkers, and survivors. “Am I late for the meeting?”

“ Peabody.” Eve nodded toward Lissette, then moved to the blonde. “Who are you?”

“I’m Elizabeth Blackburn, and who the hell are you?”

“Dallas, Lieutenant, NYPSD. I’ve just informed Mrs. Foster that her husband’s dead.”

“He’s…what? Craig. Oh, sweet Jesus. Lissy.”

Perhaps it was the pet name, or the tone of grief in it, but as Elizabeth started across the room, Lissette simply slid to the floor. Elizabeth went down on her knees, gathered Lissette up.

“Craig. My Craig.”

“I’m sorry. Lissy, Lissy, I’m so sorry. Was there an accident?” she demanded of Eve.

“We’ll need to speak with Ms. Foster about the circumstances.”

“All right, all right. My office is to the right, end of the corridor. I’ll bring her there to you as soon as she’s able. She needs a few minutes, for God’s sake. Just wait in my office.”

They left Lissette in the arms of her boss. There were a number of curious looks from offices and cubes, but no comment until they reached the corner office at the end of the hall. At that point a little brunette popped out like a jack-in-the-box.

“Excuse me! That’s Ms. Blackburn’s office.”

“Where she just asked us to wait.” Eve yanked out her badge. “Go back to work.”

Inside was a glossy workstation, a cushy sofa, and two pretty chairs. A fairly stunning flower arrangement stood on the table under the south-facing window.

“If she faked that reaction,” Peabody began, “she’s got major talent.”

“Not so hard to fake if you practice. But yeah, it seemed genuine. Go on out before they get here, have someone show you her cube. I want to know what she has in there.”

“On that one.”

Eve wandered to the windows, pausing long enough to note what Lissette’s boss kept on her desk. A framed photograph of a girl somewhere in her blossoming teens, a loaded disc file, a pile of memo cubes arranged in a pyramid, and a file that revealed artwork for what was likely a disc cover when Eve flipped it open.

Outside the windows, snow continued to fall on the city in thin, slick flakes. An airtram chugged through it holding a clutch of miserable passengers.

Personally, she thought, she’d stick with the vicious traffic on the slick streets below.

She turned as Peabody stepped back in.

“Nothing much, and not a lot of room for it. Files, memos, notes on current work. She’s got a wedding picture of her and the vic in a really nice frame. I’m betting wedding present. Some snaps of him, or them, pinned to the cube walls. Oh, and a little file of ads and pictures from decorating magazines. That’s about it.”

“All right. We’ll give her another minute, then we’ll take this back in the conference room. We’ll swing by the morgue next. I want to know exactly what killed Craig Foster.”

It didn’t take a minute. Seconds later Lissette came in, leaning heavily on Elizabeth Blackburn.

“You’re just going to sit,” Elizabeth told her. “And I’m going to sit with you. I gave her a soother,” she said to Eve, then jutted her chin pugnaciously before Eve could speak. “And don’t even think about starting on me about it. She needed something. It’s mild, and won’t keep her from talking to you.”

“You her boss or her legal rep?”

“I’m whatever she needs me to be right now.”

“Are you sure?” Lissette’s voice was cracked and raw, and carried the awful pain of fading hope. “Are you absolutely sure there’s no mistake? That it’s Craig?”

Knowing her strengths, Peabody took point. She moved to the couch where Lissette sat with Elizabeth. “I’m very sorry. There’s no mistake.”

“But…He wasn’t sick. We had full medicals before we got married. He was healthy. People don’t just…Did someone hurt him? Was there an accident at the school?”

“We need to find out why and how this happened. We have to ask you questions. You can help us find out.”

“I want to help. I want to know. I love him.”

“Let’s start with this morning. You said you packed his lunch.”

“I did. I always do.” Her eyes fluttered, widened as she shot a hand out to grip Peabody ’s arm. “Was something wrong with the sandwich? He liked that awful processed poultry substitute. Did it make him sick? Oh, my God.”

“We don’t know that, Mrs. Foster. Did anyone come to your apartment today, before your husband left for work?”

“No. He leaves so early. He likes to use the fitness center at the school. He takes good care of himself. He does. We do. Elizabeth.”

“You’re doing fine. How much more of this?” Elizabeth demanded.

“Was your husband having problems with anyone at the school?” Eve asked.

“Craig? No. He loved it there.”

“How about prior relationships? Did either one of you have trouble with a former relationship?”

“We were together two years before we got married. You know how you meet someone, and it’s just it? Your whole life is there, that minute. That’s what it was like for us.”

Eve stepped forward, then sat so her eyes were level with Lissette’s. “If you want to help, you need to be straight with me. Absolutely straight. Did he gamble?”

“He wouldn’t even buy a lottery ticket. He was careful with money.”

“Did he use illegals?”

She bit her lip. “Um, we did a little zoner in college.” Her gaze slid toward Elizabeth ’s.

“Who didn’t?” Elizabeth patted her arm.

“Recently?”

“No.” Lissette shook her head at Eve’s question. “Absolutely not. He could be dismissed for any illegals use. Plus, he really feels strongly about setting examples for his students.”

“Were you having financial problems?”

“Nothing serious. I mean, we had to juggle a little sometimes, especially since Craig wants to save. Sometimes I spend more than I should, but he’s so careful it balances out. He saves for things. Important things. He…he took tutoring work last year for extra money. Then he used it to bring my mother to New York for Christmas. He knew how much it would mean to me, so he worked extra and he bought my mother a shuttle ticket, and paid for her hotel because we don’t have room. He did that for me. No one’s ever going to love me like that again. No one could. Not ever in my life.”

Because the tears started again, Eve rose. “I’m sorry for your loss, and appreciate your cooperation at this difficult time.” Crappy words, she thought. And the only words. “Is there anyone you’d like us to contact for you?”

“No. No. Oh, God, Craig’s parents. I have to tell them. How do I tell them?”

“We can take care of that for you.”

“No, I have to. I’m Craig’s wife. I have to do this.” She got shakily to her feet. “I have to see him. I don’t know where he is.”

“He’s with the medical examiner now. I’ll contact you as soon as you’re cleared for that. Do you have someone who can go with you?”

“I’ll go with her. No, Lissy, I’ll go with you,” Elizabeth insisted when Lissette teared up again and shook her head. “You just sit for a minute while I walk Lieutenant Dallas and Detective Peabody out. Sit right here, I’ll just be a minute.”

She moved quickly, and purposefully, not stopping until they’d reached an intersection in the maze. “How was Craig murdered?”

“I didn’t say he was.”

Elizabeth turned, looked dead into Eve’s eyes. “I know who you are. I keep up with who’s who in New York. Lieutenant Eve Dallas, Homicide.”

“I don’t have any information to give you at this time. Mr. Foster’s death is under investigation.”

“That’s bullshit. Just bullshit. That girl just lost the love of her life. Like that!” Elizabeth snapped her fingers. “She needs answers.”

“She’ll have them, as soon as I do. How well did you know him?”

“I met him a number of times. He’d come in every now and then, and Lissy would bring him to company parties and events. Sweet boy. Dopey in love. Bright. He struck me as bright, like Lissy is. Two bright young people getting started with their life, their careers. You’re bright, too, from everything I’ve read, heard, or seen of you. You get those answers for Lissy. You get her that much to hold on to.”

“That’s the idea.”