Innocent in Death (In Death #24)(31)

“She got off with community service and anger management, paying his medical bills. The guy sued her,” Peabody added, “settling out of court for an undisclosed amount. Want me to get more details on that?”

“We’ll ask her personally.”

“Hallie Wentz, single, one female child, age eight, Emily. Hallie’s a party planner.”

“They pay people to plan parties. I don’t get it. If you’re bound and determined to have a party, how much of a deal is it to have one?”

“Three words: Mavis’s baby shower.”

Eve tried not to squirm. “That went okay.”

“That went uptown because you had somebody, that would be me, handling the details.”

“And did I pay you?”

Peabody frowned, scratched her jaw. “I am forced to say: Touché . ”

“Nobody should be forced to say touché . ”

“Feeling better?”

“Than what?” Eve countered as she slipped off the turnpike.

“Than you were this morning.”

“I was just having a thing, mostly in my head.” That’s what she’d decided. “Finished with it now.”

It had been stupid, and embarrassingly female, to get worked up over some blonde in a red dress. They’d have had lunch by now, she calculated, and he’d be back in his office taking his next meeting to plan global financial domination.

Back to normal. And that was that.

It barely took any effort to put it out of her mind, again, as they badged plant security and waited for clearance. And the manager.

She was a peppy little thing, all of four feet ten in her work boots. She had a wide smile and sparkling eyes that made Eve wonder what she’d consumed during her last break.

“Stella Burgess, nice to meetcha. Something I can help you with?”

New Jersey was as deep as the Hudson in her voice as she beamed welcome and cooperation.

“You process castor beans at this facility.”

“Sure do. We process a variety of agricultural products for nonconsumptive use. Your castor oil’s used in some industries as a lubricant. Not so much in the U.S. of A., but we export. It’s also used in the preparation of leather goods. We export that, too, and ship directly to certified clients nationally. You want to see the processing operation?”

“Probably not. Do you have accounts for the oil in New York?”

“I sure can check on that for you, Lieutenant. That’d likely be for artisans, craftsman, and like that there, ones who like to use natural products only. You want I should get you a list?”

“Yeah, I want you should. As soon as you tell me why you’re handing all that over with a smile.”

“’Scuze?”

“You don’t ask questions, Stella. You don’t do any dance about privacy of accounts. Just sure, here are the names.”

Stella flashed her teeth again. “Yeah, sure. I got the memo.”

“What memo would that be?”

“From the top dog. It got sent out first of the year. Full cooperation from all managers, department heads, supervisors, and yadda-yadda is expected to be given to Lieutenant Eve Dallas if and when she has occasion to request information or services. Right?”

“Right. I’ll need an employee roster, too. Current, and back the last six months.”

“You got it.” Stella pointed her index finger, thumb cocked. “Give me five, okay?”

“Sure.”

As they waited, Peabody cast her eyes to the ceiling and whistled a tune.

“Shut up, Peabody.”

“I’m just wondering what it’s like to be married to a guy who owns so many things you don’t know the half of them.” Then she gave Eve an elbow nudge. “He sent out a memo.”

“It takes the fun out of it. He cut out my intimidation perk.”

“Saves time, though. And it’s really considerate. He’s always thinking about you.”

“Weird.”

But it was nice to hear it, even though it made her feel only more stupid about how she’d behaved that morning.

She would run cross-references and searches on the lists provided. That she could do back at Central, or at home. For the moment, they’d knock on a few doors. Starting with Hallie Wentz.

Hallie lived in a two-story townhouse, running her business on the street level. Eve would have tagged her as the exact opposite of Stella Burgess. Hallie was tall, slim, wearing fashionable ankle-breakers. Her eyes were cool and suspicious as she studied Eve’s badge.

Obviously, she hadn’t gotten the memo.

“What’s this about? I’ve got a client coming by in ten minutes. Cops aren’t good for business.”

“Craig Foster.”

“Oh.” Hallie blew out a breath, glanced toward a doorway. “Listen, my kid’s in the next room. She’s pretty upset about what happened. I really don’t want her to have to talk to the cops about this. Not until she feels better.”

“Actually, we’re here to talk to you.”

“Me? About Mr. Foster? Why?”

“We’re talking to everyone who was on school grounds yesterday.”

“Right. Right. Wait a minute.” She walked to the doorway, peeked in, then eased the door nearly closed. “Studying,” she said to Eve and Peabody. “Kid’s a gem. What do you need to know?”