In Death 27 - Salvation in Death

frowned, sniffed again.
    “There’s more in here than water. I can’t place it, but there’s something in here.”
    “Mind?” Roarke stepped over. With a shrug, Eve held out the bottle so he could lean over. “I think it’s vodka.”
    “Vodka?” Eve glanced back toward Clyde, and saw from his expression Roarke was right. “Can you confirm that?”
    “Yes, sir, I can. Jimmy Jay liked a shot of vodka in his water bottles. Said it kept him smooth through the preaching. He was a good man, Lieutenant, and a true man of God. I’d sure hate for this to come out in a way that smeared his name.”
    “If it’s not relevant, it won’t. Who spiked his bottles?”
    “One of his girls, usually. His daughters. Or I would if things got busy. Or Billy, his manager.”
    “Which is why all these bottles are unsealed. Where’s the vodka bottle?”
    “That would be in his dressing room. One of your men locked that up.”
    She went back to the body, crouched. The cheeks were deep pink, the eyes bloodshot. There were bloody grooves at the throat where he’d clawed for air. She could smell the vodka as she leaned close to his face, and the sweat. And yes, just the faintest whiff of almonds.
    As she open her kit, she turned to see Peabody and her partner’s skinny, blond heartthrob hustling toward the stage.
    “I didn’t call EDD.”
    “We were out with Callendar and her latest hunk,” Peabody said. “That is the Jimmy Jay, right?”
    “Apparently. Take prints to confirm, get TOD for the record.” Eve eyed McNab and the red and orange starburst on his purple tee. He wore slick green airskids to match the slick green belt that kept his seeringly orange pants from sliding off his bony hips.
    Despite the fashion statement, and the half-dozen colorful rings weighing down his left earlobe, he was a good cop. And since he was here, she might as well put him to work.
    “Got a recorder, Detective?”
    “Don’t leave home without it.”
    “Mr. Attkins, I’d like you to take a seat out there—” Eve gestured vaguely to the audience. “And give your statement to Detective McNab. Thanks for your help.”
    She turned to first on scene. “Officer, where’s the vic’s wife?”
    “In her dressing room, sir. I’ll escort you.”
    “In a minute. Peabody, when you’re done, have the body bagged and tagged and flag Morris. I want COD asap. Cap and bag that open bottle separate from the rest. They’re all for the lab and they’re priority. The vic had three daughters, all here. You take them. I’m on the wife, the manager. McNab can take Security.”
    “On that.”
    Eve turned to Roarke. “Want to go home?”
    “Whatever for?”
    “Then find someplace quiet and comfortable. Dig into the vic.” She offered her PPC. “I’ve got the initial run on here.”
    “I’ll use my own.”
    “I’ve got the run started on mine.”
    He sighed, took hers, tapped a couple buttons. “Now it’s on mine, too. Anything in particular you’d like me to find?”
    “It’d be really keen if you found Jimmy Jay Jenkins had ties to some guy named Lino from Spanish Harlem. Otherwise . . .” She looked around the arena. “God’s a big business, right?”
    “Biblical.”
    “Ha. Find out how much in Jimmy Jay’s pockets, and who gets what. Thanks. Officer?”
    They exited the stage, moved through the wings. “Where’s the vic’s dressing room?” she asked.
    “Other side.” The cop jerked a thumb.
    “Really?”
    He shrugged. “Mrs. Dead Guy got the hysterics. Had to carry her off, call the MTs in for her. We got a female officer in with her. MT gave her a mild soother, but . . .”
    He trailed off as wailing and sobs echoed off the walls.
    “Didn’t help much,” he added.
    “Great.” Eve stepped to the door where the wails and sobs battered the metal. She rolled her shoulders, opened it.
    She might have staggered, not just from the sounds, but from all the pink . It was like a truckload of cotton candy exploded, and it immediately gave her a phantom toothache.
    The woman herself wore a pink dress with an enormous skirt that poofed up as she sprawled on a chaise like a candy mountain. Her hair, a bright, eye-dazzling gold, tumbled in disarray around a face where several pounds of enhancers had melted and washed down in black, red, pink, and blue streaks.
    For a moment, Eve thought Jolene had torn some of her hair out in her mad grief, then realized the hunks of it scattered on the floor and chaise were extensions