In Death 14 - Reunion in Death

baby-doll face. She wore pink as well, a shimmering ensemble that dipped low over one breast and left the other to be flirtily exposed but for a patch of sheer material shaped like a rose.
    Her big blue eyes shimmered prettily with the tears that trickled in tiny, graceful drops down her smooth cheeks. The face spoke of youth and innocence, but the body told another story altogether.
    She held a fluffy white ball in her lap.
    "Mrs. Pettibone?"
    She let out a gurgling sound and pushed her face into the white ball. When the ball let out a quick yip, Eve decided it was, possibly, some sort of dog.
    "I'm Lieutenant Dallas, NYPSD. This is my aide, Officer Peabody. I'm very sorry for your loss."
    "Boney's dead. My sweet Boney."
    Boney and Bambi, Eve thought. What was wrong with people? "I know this is a difficult time." Eve glanced around, decided she had no choice but to sit on something fluffy and pink. "But I need to ask you some questions."
    "I just wanted to give him a birthday party. Everyone came. We were having such a good time. He never even got to open his presents."
    She wailed the last of it, and the little puff ball on her lap produced a pink tongue and licked her face.
    "Mrs. Pettibone... could I have your legal name for the record?"
    "I'm Bambi."
    "For real? Never mind. You were standing next to your husband when he collapsed."
    "He was saying such nice things about everybody. He really liked the party." She sniffled, looked imploringly at Eve. "That's something, isn't it? He was happy when it happened."
    "Did you give him the champagne for his toast, Mrs. Pettibone?"
    "Boney loved champagne." There was a sentimental and soggy sigh. "It was his very, very favorite. We had caterers. I wanted everything just so. I told Mr. Markie to be sure his servers passed champagne the whole time. And canapés, too. I worked really hard to make it perfect for my sweet Boney. Then he got so sick, and it happened so fast. If I'd known he was sick, we wouldn't have had a party. But he was fine when he left this morning. He was just fine."
    "Do you understand what happened to your husband?"
    She hugged the puffball dog, buried her face in its fluff. "He got sick. Peter couldn't make him better."
    "Mrs. Pettibone, we think it's most likely the champagne was responsible for your husband's death. Where did he get the glass of champagne he drank right before he collapsed?"
    "From the girl, I guess." She sniffed, stared at Eve with a puzzled expression. "Why would champagne make him sick? It never did before."
    "What girl?"
    "What girl?" Bambi repeated, her face a baffled blank.
    Patience, Eve reminded herself. "You said 'the girl' gave Mr. Pettibone the champagne for his toast."
    "Oh, that girl. One of the servers." Bambi lifted a shoulder, nuzzled the little dog. "She brought Boney a new glass so he could make his toast."
    "Did he take it off her tray?"
    "No." She pursed her lips, sniffled softly. "No, I remember she handed it to him and wished him a happy birthday. She said, 'Happy birthday, Mr. Pettibone.' Very politely, too."
    "Did you know her? Have you employed her before?"
    "I use Mr. Markie, and he brings the servers. You can leave everything up to Mr. Markie. He's just mag."
    "What did she look like?"
    "Who?"
    God, give me the strength not to bitch-slap this moron. "The server, Bambi. The server who gave Boney the glass of champagne for his toast."
    "Oh. I don't know. Nobody really looks at servers, do they?" She said it with a fluttering confusion as Eve stared at her. "Tidy," she said after a moment. "Mr. Markie insists on his staff presenting a neat appearance."
    "Was she old, young, tall, short?"
    "I don't know. She looked like one of the servers, that's all. And they all look the same, really."
    "Did your husband speak to her?"
    "He said thank you. Boney's very polite, too."
    "He didn't appear to recognize her? The server," Eve added quickly as Bambi's mouth began to purse on what surely would have been another "Who?"
    "Why would he?"
    No one, Eve decided, could pretend to be this level of idiot. It had to be sincere. "All right. Do you know anyone who'd wish your husband harm?"
    "Everyone loved Boney. You just had to."
    "Did you love Boney while he was married to his first wife?"
    Her eyes went bigger, rounder. "We never, ever cheated. Boney didn't even kiss me until after he was divorced. He was a gentleman."
    "How did you meet him?"
    "I worked at one of his flower shops. The one on Madison. He used to come in