J. Robb: Innocent In Death

“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?”