Survivor In Death (In Death #20)(104)

She bent close, sniffed the skin. “Smells like hospital. Antiseptic. Maybe the lab boys can give us more there. For what it's worth. She bit right through her own lip,” Eve observed, then pushed to her feet.

She put her hands on her hips, studied the alley. The usual overworked recyclers, but it was clean, too, as alleys went. Some graffiti-- sort of artsy--but none of the nasty debris left behind by sidewalk sleepers or junkies, even the street LCs and their clients.

She turned to the first on-scene. “What do you know about this place--this restaurant here, this business next door.”

“Actually, it's a Free-Ager center--classes, crafts, like that. And the restaurant's run by the group. Grow a lot of the stuff in Greenpeace Park, bring it in from some of their communes. Run a clean place, even if it is mostly health food.”

“Run a clean alleyway, too.”

“Yeah. I mean, yes, sir. We don't get many calls here.”

“The woman who found her, what's her name?”

He had to consult his book. “Leah Rames.”

“Trueheart, stay here, sweepers should be on-scene momentarily.”

Eve walked into the storeroom, took a quick glance at the tidy shelves of supplies, and moved into the kitchen beyond.

Tidy was the watchword here, as well. Something was steaming on the stove, but that stove was huge and scrubbed to a gleam. Counters were simple white, covered with signs of meal prep in progress. Who knew it took so much stuff to make food? There were friggies and cold boxes, some kind of gargantuan oven, and not a civilized AutoChef in sight.

Several people, all wearing long white aprons, were seated on stools around an island counter. Some of them were chopping at things with wicked-looking knives. Others just sat. And all looked at her when she entered.

“Leah Rames?”

A woman, mid-forties, lean, long sandy hair thickly braided, lifted a hand like a schoolgirl. Her face was milk-white.

“I'm Leah. Do you know what happened to that poor woman?”

The gash in the throat should've been a clue, but something about the earnest question and the earnest setup of the kitchen sucked up Eve's sarcasm.

“I'm Lieutenant Dallas, with Homicide. I'm the primary on this matter.”

“You're Dee's boss--partner,” Leah corrected with an attempt to smile. “Is she with you?”

“No, she's on another assignment. You know Detective Peabody?”

“Yes, and her family. My life partner and I lived near the Peabodys until we moved here.” She reached out to lay her hand over the hand of the man who sat beside her.

“We opened our center and restaurant about eight months ago. Peabody and her young man came for dinner once or twice. Can you tell us what happened? We know everyone in this area. We've made a point of it. I know there are some rough characters, but I can't believe anyone who comes here could have done this.”

“You don't have security on your alley exits.”

“No.” It was the man who spoke now. “We believe in trust. And in giving back.”

“And in community relations,” Leah added. “We give food out in the alley after closing every night. We spread the word that we would provide this service as long as the alley was kept clean, that no one used it to do illegals, to harm anyone else, or littered. The first few weeks it was touch and go, mostly go, but eventually the food, given freely, turned the tide. And now . .”

“Why did you go out in the alley?”

“I thought I heard something. Like a thud. I was in the storeroom getting some supplies. Sometimes people come, knock on the door early. I opened the door, thinking if they didn't seem in dire need, I'd tell them to come back at closing. She was right there, right by the door. She was naked, and facedown. I thought, By the goddess, someone's raped this poor woman. I bent down, I spoke to her. ... I touched her, her shoulder, I think, I'm not sure. I touched her, and she was so cold. I didn't think dead, not immediately. I just thought, oh, poor, poor thing, she's so cold, and I turned her over, calling for Genoa.”

“She called.” The life partner took up the story. “I could tell something was wrong, by the tone, and I stopped what I was doing in here. She started screaming before I got to the storeroom. Several of us rushed out then. I thought she was injured--the woman--and tried to pick her up. Then I saw she was dead. We called for the police. I stayed with her, with the woman, until they came. I thought someone should.”

“Did you see anyone else in the alley? See any vehicle or person leaving the alley?” she asked Leah.

“I saw, just for a second, taillights. They were gone so fast, I just saw the blocks of them.”

“Blocks?”

“Like building blocks. Three red squares, one on top of the other on either side. It was only a glimpse, I'm sorry. I wouldn't have seen even that if I'd looked down instead of over first.”

“Did you hear them drive in, drive out?”

“I might have. I'm not sure. We have music playing back here while we work. I'd only been in the storeroom a minute or so, and I was humming. You can hear the street traffic from there, but you tune it out. You understand? You hear it, but you don't. I think--I wish I could be sure--but I think I might've heard an engine in the alley before I heard the thump, and then the sound of driving away. I'm almost sure, now that I put myself back there, almost sure.”