Golden in Death(41)

Eve slid onto the padded bench of the breakfast nook to face her, made room for Peabody.

“Ms. Fitzwalter, I know this is difficult, but we need to ask you some questions.”

“I know. I know how it works. I’ve read countless police procedurals in my time. I never thought … Who would do this? Elise never hurt anyone in her life. This is going to shatter her father, and Jay, the boys. I don’t know how to tell them.”

“We’ll help you,” Peabody told her.

“I know who you are. I read Nadine Furst’s book. I’ve recommended it more times than I can say.” She leaned forward, a pretty woman with a lovely swing of auburn hair. “Is it true, what she wrote about you? That you care, that you won’t stop until you have answers? That you’ll do everything, everything that can be done to find who did this?”

Eve decided simple was best. “Yes.”

Catherine breathed out, lowered her head. “I need to know. We’ll all need to know. Nothing can bring my girl back, but we need to know. You want to know if I know anyone who would want to hurt her.”

She lifted her head again. “I swear I don’t. No one’s threatened her. She’d have told me. We talked about everything, anything. She and Jay have a good marriage, a fun, loving one, are raising good young men. Have they had spats? Of course. But they’ve been married twenty years.

“I want to tell you about her.”

“All right.”

“She’s a good daughter—not that she didn’t give her father and me some headaches along the way. She met Jay in college, and neither one of them ever looked back, or at anyone else. They shared a love of books. We raised her with books. When Rob and I retire—if ever—she was going to take over the store. She loved her family, loved her home. She loved tending it, making it a happy place, a good place. Like her dad, she was organized, almost terrifyingly.”

The faintest smile came and went. “She ran on lists, had her schedules. You could count on her to be where she said she’d be when she said she’d be there. She loved hosting friends, and fussing so they’d—”

She stopped, let out a gasp. “Oh God, oh my God. The book club. They’ll be here at one. We hold a book club here once a month, that’s why I’m here. I—I—I picked up the desserts.”

“Peabody.”

“It’s all right.” Peabody slid out. “I’ll take care of it.”

When Peabody left, Eve drew Catherine’s attention back. “You came early.”

“Yes, yes. I had the desserts, and I was going to help her finish setting up, just spend some time with her. She didn’t answer. I thought she might be in the shower. She’d want to fix herself up before everyone got here. I know my girl, and she’d have been cleaning and fussing first. So I used my swipe and came in.”

“Can you take me through it?”

“I called out, then came right back here. I took out the bakery boxes, and I’d brought some pretty bookmarks, so I got a cup of coffee and one of her little vases to arrange them in. I set them on the table. I decided to go upstairs, see if she was nearly ready, but she wasn’t upstairs. I wasn’t concerned, just puzzled. I thought maybe she’d decided to run out for something, so I … I took out my ’link to tag her. I heard it ring from her office, so I went there. And I saw her. I saw my baby.”

“Take your time.”

“I think I could use that water now after all.”

Eve rose, found a glass, filled it.

“I don’t know if I blacked out or fell, or … I came back to myself on the floor, just sitting on the floor in the doorway of her office. I kept hearing this awful noise, like an animal in pain. It was me. It was me.”

Covering her face with her hands, Catherine rocked. “I wanted to go to her, to my baby, but I knew I shouldn’t. Preserve the scene—that’s the term, isn’t it?”

“Yes, ma’am. You did the right thing.”

“They came very quickly. It seemed like years, but I know they came quickly, the MTs, and the police. Officer Krasinsky—Mike—I’ve known him since he was a boy. He’s been in the store many times. It helped to have someone who knew us.”

“Do you know, or did your daughter know, Dr. Kent Abner?”

“I don’t think so.” Catherine drank more water, pushed her hands through her hair, pressed her fingers to her eyes. “I heard, there was a story about his death on Channel Seventy-five this morning. This is … the same?”

“It’s possible. Have there been any problems at your bookstore? Employees you or your daughter had to reprimand, even let go?”

“We’re like a family.”

“Customers who’ve caused problems?”

“We’re pretty good at handling complaints. We have customers who’ve shopped with us for fifty years, who span generations. We’re not a huge business, you understand, but a steady one, a neighborhood fixture. Elise worked there three times a week—more if we needed. She focused on raising her boys, running the house, but she couldn’t stay away from her second home. That’s what First Page was for her. For us. No one who knew her would have wished her harm. I swear I’d tell you, without hesitation, if I knew of anyone. Even a sliver of doubt about anyone. She’s my only child.”