Delusion in Death (In Death #35)(62)

“Do both of you know her as well?” Eve asked the men.

“Everybody knows Jeni,” Callaway said. “She’s a sweetheart, always ready to take the extra step, always cheerful. Steve had the flirt on with her.”

“She’s dead,” Vann murmured staring at the photo. “We just got lunch from her a couple days ago. Locked in on the campaign, and she brought in our lunch order. Extra soy fries because she knows I like them. She’s dead.”

He rose, walked over, poured water. “Sorry. It just hits. I got take-out from there one night last week, walked out just as she did—off her shift. I walked her home before I caught a cab. I walked her home, and I thought about talking my way up to her place. I think she’d have been open to it. But I had to work, so I let it go. She’s dead.”

“You were interested in her?”

“She’s beautiful and bright. Was. Yeah, I thought about it that night. Long day, take-out food because it’s going to be a long night of work. And here’s this bright, beautiful woman giving me all the right signals. I thought, well, why not. An impulse thing,” he said. “But the campaign.”

“So the two of you never connected that way.”

“No. I figured, plenty of time if the mood strikes again. That’s what you think,” he said as his grieving eyes met Eve’s. “There’s always plenty of time. Time for bright, beautiful women, or for another drink with a friend from work. Plenty of time to get your boys together at the park one Saturday. Goddamn it.”

Saying nothing, Weaver rose, opened a glossy cabinet and took out a decanter. She poured two fingers of rich amber liquid, took it to Steve.

“Thanks. Thanks, Nancy. I’m sorry,” he said to Eve. “It’s just hitting me. It’s real. It happened.”

“No apology necessary. What about you, Mr. Callaway? How well did you know Jeni?”

“I liked her. Everybody did. I never hit on her, if that’s what you mean. She was the delivery girl, and I liked her, but that’s it.”

“Tell me about Carly Fisher.”

Callaway looked mildly surprised by the request. “Another bright girl. Nancy’s protégée. Creative, hardworking.”

“I’m going to have a drink, too.” Weaver went back to the decanter. “Anyone else?”

“On duty,” Eve said simply.

“Oh, right. Lew?”

“No. Thanks.”

“Would you say Carly was competitive?” Eve asked Lew.

“Sure. You can’t make it in this business without an edge. She had one. She wanted to move up.”

“Always eager to work,” Weaver added. “She’d take on anything. She liked to be busy. She pitched in with both of you.”

“Yeah.” Vann sipped his drink, stared out the window.

“And you?” Eve prompted Callaway.

“If you asked her to get something done, she got it done. Nancy trained her, so she had a strong work ethic and plenty of ambition.”

“She was going places,” Nancy said quietly. “I used to tell her she’d be running the department in ten years. Please, can’t you tell us the status? Isn’t there something you can tell us, or something we can do?”

“I can tell you we’re pursuing every angle, avenue, and lead. That this investigation is my priority, and the priority of the team of police officers under my command.”

“What leads?” Callaway demanded. “You’re asking us how well we knew the café’s delivery girl. Was she involved? And the other woman you showed us. Is she a suspect?”

“I can’t answer questions specific to the ongoing investigation.”

“We’re not just being nosy. We were at that bar, sitting with Joe. Sitting right there with … I left him there,” Callaway said, with a hint of bitterness. “I left him.”

“Oh, Lew.” Nancy reached out to lay a hand on his arm.

“I’ll never forget I left him there. Like you’ll never forget you asked Carly to get you a latte. We worked with people who died. Any one of us might have been in the café today. And what about tomorrow? I live in this neighborhood. I work here, eat here, shop here. It makes us a part of this.”

Callaway glanced at his coworkers for confirmation. “It puts us in a position where we might be able to help, if we just knew the questions that need answering.”

“I’ve asked you the questions I need answered at this time.”

“But you won’t answer ours,” Weaver pointed out. “It’s just as Lew said. You asked about Jeni, specifically. We all knew her, all interacted with her, often daily. If she was somehow involved … She moved freely through these offices. Does that mean something could happen here? Right here?”

“Jeni Curve died this afternoon,” Eve reminded her. “I will tell you security cameras verify she went into the café very shortly before the incident. Due to the timing, we’ll pursue a possible connection, and will thoroughly investigate.”

“Lieutenant.” Callaway, brows knit again, rubbed at the back of his neck. “I understand you have an excellent reputation within the NYPSD, and you have resources,” he added with a sidelong glance at Roarke. “But it feels as though you’re conducting this as if you’re dealing with a standard homicide.”