In Death 24 - Innocent in Death

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.”
     
    24
    “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.”
     
    25
    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