In Death 14 - Reunion in Death

see the doctor who worked on him first," she told Peabody, then scanned the floor. "We'll need to have all this broken shit taken in, identify which container or containers were spiked. Nobody leaves. That's guests and staff. McNab, you can start taking names and addresses for followups. Keep the family separate for now."
    "Looks like it would've been a hell of a party," McNab commented as he headed out.
    "Lieutenant. Dr. Peter Vance." Peabody escorted in a man of medium build. He had short, sandy-colored hair and a short, sandy-colored beard. When his gaze shifted past her to Walter Pettibone's body, Eve saw both grief and anger harden his eyes.
    "That was a good man." His voice was clipped and faintly British. "A good friend."
    "Someone wasn't his friend," Eve pointed out. "You recognized that he'd been poisoned, instructed the MTs to notify the police."
    "That's correct. The signs were textbook, and we lost him very quickly." He looked away from the body and back at Eve. "I want to believe it was a mistake, some horrible accident. But it wasn't. He'd just finished giving a rather schmaltzy little toast, so like him. He was standing with his arm around his wife, his son and daughter and their spouses beside him. He had a big grin on his face and tears in his eyes. We applauded, he drank, then he choked. Collapsed right here and began having seizures. It was over in minutes. There was nothing to be done."
    "Where did he get the drink?"
    "I couldn't say. The caterer's staff was passing around champagne. Other beverages could be had from the bars that were set up here and there. Most of us had been here since about seven. Bambi was frantic about all of the guests being in place when Walt arrived home."
    "Bambi?"
    "His wife." Vance replied. "Second wife. They've been married a year or so now. She's been planning this surprise party for weeks. I'm sure Walt knew all about it. She's not what you'd call a clever woman. But he pretended to be surprised."
    "What time did he get here?"
    "Seven-thirty, on the nose. We all yelled surprise per Bambi's instructions. Had a good laugh out of it, then went back to eating, drinking. There was some dancing. Walt made the rounds. His son made a toast." Vance sighed. "I wish I'd paid more attention. I'm sure Walt was drinking champagne."
    "Did you see him drink at that time?"
    "I think..." He shut his eyes as if to bring it all back. "It seems to me he did. I can't imagine him not drinking after a toast by his son. Walt doted on his children. I believe he had a fresh glass-it seems to me it was full- when he made his own little toast. But I can't say for certain whether he picked it off a tray or someone handed it to him."
    "You were friends?"
    Grief clouded his face again. "Good friends, yes."
    "Any problems in his marriage?"
    Vance shook his head. "He was blissful. Frankly, most of us who knew him were baffled when he married Bambi. He was married to Shelly for, what would it be? More than thirty years, I suppose. Their divorce was amicable enough, as divorces go. Then within six months he was involved with Bambi. Most of us thought it was just some midlife foolishness, but it stuck."
    "Was his first wife here tonight?"
    "No. They weren't quite that amicable."
    "Anyone you know of who'd want him dead?"
    "Absolutely no one." He lifted his hands in a helpless gesture. "I know saying he didn't have an enemy in the world is a cliché, Lieutenant Dallas, but that's exactly what I'd say about Walt. People liked him, and a great many people loved him. He was a sweet-natured man, a generous employer, a devoted father."
    And a wealthy one, Eve thought after she'd released the doctor. A wealthy man who'd dumped wife number-one for a younger, sexier model. As people didn't bring cyanide as a party favor, someone had been there tonight for the express purpose of killing Pettibone.
    Eve did the interview with the second wife in a sitting room off the woman's bedroom.
    The room was dim, the heavy pink drapes drawn tight over the windows so that the single lamp with its striped shade provided a candy-colored light.
    In it, Eve could see the room, all pink and white and frothy. Like the inside of a sugar-loaded pastry, she thought. There were mountains of pillows, armies of trinkets, and the heavy scent of too many roses in one space.
    Amid the girlish splendor, Bambi Pettibone reclined on a pink satin chaise. Her hair was curled and braided and tinted in that same carnival pink to set off a