Echoes in Death (In Death #44)(12)

She walked off, a ball of cheer on sturdy black shoes.

“Kind of homey,” Peabody commented. “A couple of doctors in a big apartment in a swank Upper East building, but it’s homey. Somebody needlepoints,” she added, tapping one of the mountain range of pillows scattered over sofas and chairs. “And really well, too.”

Eve could admit a sofa where your ass snuggled right in hit the homey mark. In addition, framed photos—kids various ages, vacation shots, holiday poses—fit into that. But she’d developed enough of an eye to recognize important art on the walls and the elegant gleam of a few antiques perfectly placed.

So homey, sure, she thought, with a foundation of comfortable wealth.

The doctors came in together. She was tall and lean, her hair clipped short and dark around a sharply defined face with deep-set eyes more gray than green. A flawless complexion just a shade richer than Peabody’s beloved coffee regular. She wore her age—sixty-three according to her official data—as stylishly as the trim suit of steel blue.

He was taller, leaner yet, with thick black brows over keen blue eyes. He’d allowed his dark hair to streak silver at the temples. Sprinkles of that silver dashed through his narrow goatee. His smoke-gray suit complemented hers.

In fact, Eve thought their looks and body language spoke of unity.

Lake touched a hand to her husband’s arm before she stepped forward.

“Lieutenant, Detective. Alice recognized your names. You’re homicide. It’s not about our children.”

Before Eve could speak, could reassure, O’Connor spoke up. “We contacted them as soon as Greg called up. We know they’re all fine. Who isn’t?”

“Anthony Strazza.”

Lake let out a stream of air as she sat. “We just saw him last night. A dinner party at his home. Which you know, of course.” She drew in more air, let it out again. “We were there until about eleven. Johnny?”

“Yes, about eleven.” Now he sat beside her. “We were the first to leave, actually. I have rounds this morning, and Lucy has an early meeting.”

“Should I reschedule that?”

“This shouldn’t take long,” Eve told her.

“I—” She broke off when Alice wheeled in a coffee cart. “Alice, would you contact my office? Have Karl push my morning meeting an hour.”

“I’ll do just that, don’t you worry. Now there’s good black coffee for you, Lieutenant. And I’ll have yours here, Detective. You’ll have your second cup,” she said to both doctors, pouring and serving. “I’ll be right back in the kitchen if you need me for anything. Don’t you worry,” she repeated, and left them.

“If something happened after we left”—Lake looked at her husband—“someone would have contacted us. If something happened to Anthony during the dinner party.”

“He was killed after the party.”

“I don’t understand how— Oh God, Daphne. His wife.” With a hand pressed to her heart, Lake came halfway out of her chair. “Was she killed, too?”

“She’s in the hospital,” Eve told Lake. “Your hospital.”

“Her condition?” O’Connor demanded, even as he pulled his ’link from his pocket.

“Just hold off on contacting the hospital. I’ve just checked on her. She’s in stable condition, mildly sedated.”

“Her attending?”

“Dr. Delroy Nobel.”

The tension in O’Connor’s face eased, and his wife rubbed a hand on his thigh. “Then she’s under excellent care,” Lake said. “Can you tell us her injuries? There’s nothing we can do for Anthony,” she added.

“You’ll have to get the medical details from Nobel, but I can tell you Mrs. Strazza was physically and sexually assaulted.”

“Raped.” Lake’s eyes stayed level, but something in them hardened.

They’d get the details, Eve thought, so she laid it out. “Shortly after two this morning, Mrs. Strazza was found near her home, wandering outside, naked, in shock. She’d suffered numerous contusions and lacerations and was hypothermic. Dr. Nobel stabilized her. I interviewed her. Her memory is spotty, but she stated there was someone in the master bedroom when she and her husband entered after the last guest left. Dr. Strazza was restrained, Mrs. Strazza was repeatedly raped and assaulted.”

“She saw who did this?” O’Connor covered his wife’s hand with his.

“She was unable to describe or identify the assailant, and was too distraught to press on it at that time. During the assault, Dr. Strazza was killed. Mrs. Strazza suffered a blow to the head. I need to ask—to eliminate—can you verify the time you returned home and verify your whereabouts from eleven-thirty to two this morning?”

“We left about eleven, as we said.” O’Connor rubbed his temple. “We’d have been home before eleven-thirty. I think it was about ten or fifteen after eleven, actually. We’re practically neighbors. The security feed would verify it, and would verify we didn’t leave the house once we got in.”

“Is it all right if I check the feed?” Peabody asked. “Just to cross it off.”

“Yes, yes. Alice can show you.” Lake gestured. “A home invasion?” she continued as Peabody left. “Their home seems very secure.”