When he turned onto East Fifth, Eve saw the squad car.
And noted that the first on scene had had the time and the forethought to put a shield around the body in this nice, quiet neighborhood.
From the position of the shield, the body had been propped or placed inside a small courtyard, against the front wall of the house, on the right-hand side of a set of stairs.
A woman, mixed race, about forty, dark hair clipped up in a messy knot at the back of her head, sat on the steps. She wore blue yoga pants and a sports bra on a well-toned body, with an unzipped hoodie over it.
The two uniforms nodded as Eve held up her badge, and the woman looked up. Eve noted relief when she spotted the badge, then surprise and a gleam of tears when her gaze skipped over to Roarke.
“Roarke.” She rose, rushed over and threw her arms around him. “Oh God.”
“Natalie. Where are the kids?”
“Sleeping. They’re still sleeping. I have to get them up for school, but… Carter’s coming back from Chicago this afternoon, so I have to… God, God.”
Pulling back, she swiped at her face. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. You’re Eve Dallas, and I’m so glad you’re here. Both of you. There’s a woman, and she’s dead. She’s right over there, just sitting over there.”
And shuddering, Natalie looked away from the shield.
“I was going to do some yoga, sun salutations. It gives me a better outlook on the day. And I wanted to water the pots out here first because the sprinklers don’t reach them. And when I came out, I saw her. I thought—I don’t know what.”
She took one quick breath before more words tumbled out.
“I shouted because I was so surprised. I went down, and I saw. I saw she was dead. She had a little smile on her face, she’s all dressed up in an old-fashioned pink dress, but she was dead.
“I ran back in to check on the kids. I don’t know why, I just did. Then I called the police.”
“Did you recognize her, Ms.…”
“Natalie Hornesby,” Roarke provided. “She works for me. A top-flight mechanical engineer.”
“Hello. It’s good to meet you.” Natalie brought a hand to her face. “Oh Jesus, that sounds so wrong. No, no, I don’t know her. I don’t know what to do. She has terrible bruises on her throat. I could see them.”
Eve glanced back as she heard Peabody’s hurried clump and, yes, McNab’s quick prance along the sidewalk.
“Ms. Hornesby, I see you have security cameras.”
“Yes, yes. We bought the house last year, and it came with them.”
“Why don’t you go inside with my partner, Detective Peabody? You can give her your statement. And show Detective McNab from EDD where you locate your security feed.”
“The security feed.” Natalie pressed a hand to her temple, rubbed as if at an ache. “Of course. God, of course. I didn’t even think.”
“Peabody. Take Ms. Hornesby inside, and get her statement. McNab, check the security feed.”
“The kids. I don’t want them to see…”
“Let me know when they have to leave for school. If we’re not finished, we’ll make sure the shield’s in place.”
“Thank you. Thanks.”
“Ms. Hornesby, what’s your connection to the art world?”
She sent Eve a puzzled look. “That’s so strange you’d ask. I don’t know much of anything about it, but my husband—well, his family—owns theMorganstern Gallery on Third Avenue. Carter, my husband, he’s in Chicago now looking at an emerging artist.
“I need to contact him. He needs to know… He could get an earlier shuttle home.”
“He acquires the art for the gallery?”
