Reunion in Death (In Death #14)(14)

"Oh, they're not staying at my place. Said it was too small and they didn't want to crowd me. Couldn't change their minds. They'll just stay in their camper. I told them they're really not supposed to. City ordinances and stuff, but they just patted me on the head."

"Get them into a hotel, Peabody, before some uniform cites them."

"I'll work on it soon as we get back."

They turned into the kitchen. It was big, done in blinding whites and sparkling silver. And at the moment, chaos reigned. Food in various stages of preparation was spread all over the counters. Dishes were stacked in towers, glassware in pyramids. Eve counted eight uniformed staff jammed into an eating nook and chattering away with the nervous energy crime scenes often brought out in witnesses.

An enormous urn of coffee was being put to use by both cops and servers. One of her own uniforms was helping himself to a tray of fancy finger food and another was already hitting the dessert cart.

It only took her presence to have the room falling into stillness, and silence.

"Officers, if you can manage to tear yourselves away from the all-you-can-eat buffet, take posts outside the doors of both kitchen exits. As cause of death has not yet been officially called, I'll remind you that you're stuffing evidence in your faces. If necessary, I'll have you both cut open so that evidence can be removed."

"There's nothing wrong with my food." A man stepped forward as the two uniforms rushed out. He was short, homely, with an olive complexion. His head was shaved and gleamed as smooth as an ice floe. He wore a white butcher's apron over a formal black suit.

"You'd be Markie?"

"Mr. Markie," he said with cold dignity. "I demand to know what's going on. No one will tell us anything, just that we're required to stay in here. If you're in charge-"

"I'm in charge. Lieutenant Dallas, and what's going on is Walter Pettibone's dead and I'm here to find out how and why."

"Well, Lieutenant Dallas, I can tell you that Mr. Pettibone didn't meet his demise through any of my dishes. I won't have any rumors regarding my food and my business bandied about. My reputation is unimpeachable."

"Cool your thrusters, Markie. No one's accusing you of anything." She held up a hand before he could speak and turned her attention to his staff. "Which one of you served Mr. Pettibone before his toast?"

"It wasn't any of us. We've been talking about it."

Eve studied the attractive Asian woman. "And you'd be?"

"Sing-Yu. I was in the living area when it happened. But I was at the far end passing champagne so the guests in that section had glasses for Mr. Pettibone's toast. And Charlie-" She tapped the shoulder of the lean black man beside her. "He was bringing in the crab puffs."

"I was working the terrace bar." Another server raised a hand. "Robert McLean. And Laurie was working the terrace guests. We didn't leave our station until we heard everyone shouting."

"I was in the kitchen." Another man spoke up. "I'm, um, Don Clump. You remember, Mr. Markie? We were in here together when we heard the commotion."

"That's correct." Markie nodded. "I'd just sent Charlie out with the crab puffs, and was instructing Don to begin a pass with the stuffed mushrooms. Gwen was just coming in with empties, and we heard shouting."

"I have a witness who states that a female member of your staff handed Mr. Pettibone a glass of champagne just before he began his toast."

Gazes shifted, dropped.

"It had to be Julie." Sing-Yu spoke up again. "I'm sorry, Mr. Markie, but she's the only one who could've done it, and she's the only one who's not here."

"Who's Julie and why isn't she here?" Eve demanded.

"I don't like my employees gossiping about one another," Markie began.

"This is a police investigation. Witness statements aren't gossip, and I expect you and your staff to cooperate. Who is Julie?" Eve asked, turning to Sing-Yu.

"She's absolutely right." Markie let out a long sigh, then moved over to pat Sing-Yu's shoulder. "I'm sorry, my dear, I'm not angry with you. Julie Dockport," he said to Eve. "She's been with my company for two months. As to where she is, I can't say. She must have slipped out in the confusion immediately following Mr. Pettibone's collapse. It took me a few moments to realize there was a problem and to get from the kitchen to the living area. I didn't see her. When the police arrived and told us to come in here, to remain in here, she didn't come."

"She wearing this getup?" Eve nodded toward the trim black pants and starched white shirts of the serving staff.

"Yes."

"Describe her."

"Medium build, I suppose, on the athletic side. Short red hair, attractive. About thirty, give or take a year one way or the other. I'd have to check my employment files to be exact on that."

"Peabody, take the staff to another area. Put a uniform on them, then go find Julie Dockport."

"Yes, sir."

When they filed out, Eve sat, gestured to Markie.

"Now. Tell me what you know about this woman."

It wasn't much. She heard words like competent, reliable, cooperative.