Secrets in Death (In Death #45)(8)

DeWinter glanced down. “Damn it.” But she sealed up.

And then moved behind the shielding with Eve.

Eve crouched, took her Identi-pad from her kit, pressed it to the victim’s thumb. “Victim is identified as Mars, Larinda, age thirty-seven—”

“I don’t think so,” DeWinter interjected, earning a cool stare from Eve. “I can certainly verify that, but it’s my opinion the victim is between forty and forty-five.”

“So noted. The victim’s official identification information lists her age at thirty-seven. She resides at 265 Park Avenue, Penthouse 3. Single—no marriage or cohabs on record, no offspring. Hand me the gauge. I need to verify TOD.”

As DeWinter looked for it in the kit, Eve checked the victim for other injuries. “The arm appears to be the only injury. ME to verify.” She took the gauge DeWinter held out. “TOD eighteen-forty-three, which jibes with my live record. Victim suffered an injury to the brachial artery in her right arm. The appearance of the wound indicates a sharp instrument slicing through the material of the sleeve and into the flesh.”

Eve hunkered back. “She made it up here from the bathroom. Whoever cut her hit her in the bathroom. She got out, down to the steps, came up, down another hall, got several steps into the bar before she went down.”

“Do you want my opinion?”

“That’s why I let you in here.”

“She wouldn’t have felt disoriented at first—not the first few seconds, even up to half a minute, depending on what Li—Dr. Morris—finds regarding the damage to the artery. It’s possible she made it out of the restroom, even to the steps before she began to feel seriously confused, woozy.”

“Blood trail’s heavier on the lower part of the steps, and there are some smears—likely from her hand—on the walls.”

“Bracing herself. Maybe gathering herself or just standing on the steps unsure—confused. Then continuing up, a kind of instinctive process. Her brain was deprived of blood, like her heart.”

“Besides you, and medicals, maybe soldiers, maybe cops, how many people are going to think—even plan—to go for that spot? That artery? You’ve got a sharp, you go for the throat, the heart, and drop them where they stand. More time to get gone that way, too.”

“Are you asking or just thinking out loud?”

“Both.”

“The throat’s effective,” De Winter confirmed, “but very messy, especially in a public place. The heart takes more precision. The brachial is a long artery, so increases the target. An inch lower, or higher? You’d get the same result. Not so with the heart.”

“Got that. Good, and I agree.”

“As for who might know, there’s this interesting tool. They call it the Internet.”

“Yeah, yeah, anybody can find out anything. But you have to be looking.”

“But you do think the killer was looking.” DeWinter looked down at Mars again. “For her.”

“Most likely. She left her purse—and her wallet in it with cash and credit, her ’link. She’s wearing jewelry that looks like it’s worth the steal. They didn’t bother. So that eliminates that motive.”

Eve pushed up. “We’ll see what she has to say to Morris. Have Peabody take your statement.”

“Mine?”

“You’re a wit, DeWinter, so yeah. Let’s be thorough. Then you should go home. Your kid’s probably wondering where you are.”

“I texted her I’d be late. And no, I didn’t tell her why.”

“Good. Go spell it out for Peabody, and go home. You did what you could, for her, and afterward. I followed her blood trail, and I’m with Sterling. She was dead before she dropped. Her brain just hadn’t gotten the memo yet.”

“I’ve never actually seen someone die,” DeWinter admitted. “It’s different, going into the field, examining remains, or having bones on my table at the lab. Yes, I’ll go home. I want to hug my daughter. Can you keep me updated on the investigation?”

“I can do that.”

After DeWinter stepped outside the curtain, Eve took another moment to study the dead.

She hadn’t thought of Larinda Mars in years, and when she had thought of her at that time, had felt little more than a mild distaste and contempt.

Obviously someone had felt a great deal more.

“Who’d you piss off, Mars?”

Still shielded, she took out her PPC and began a run on Fabio Bellami.

She stepped out and nearly into Roarke as he reached forward to part the shield.

“You made good time. I need you to hold a minute.”

She carried the evidence bags she’d taken inside the curtain to the box Emily set on the bar. After setting the bags in, she pulled securing tape out of her kit, sealed the box, marked it.

“Larinda Mars,” Roarke said.

“Yeah.” She looked over, noting that the number of witnesses had diminished by more than half. Peabody sat with DeWinter. “I’ll run it through for you, but I want to clear these people out. We’re going to have to shut your place down for a while.”

“Understood.”

“McNab should have the exterior feed, and I’m going to need to go over that. Interior feed would’ve helped a lot.”