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.”
“Have you ever seen this man?” Eve offered the composite of Kirkendall.
“No, I'm sorry. Did he-”
“Pass this around,” Eve interrupted. “See if anyone else recognizes him. Or her.” She handed Leah a copy of Isenberry's ID photo.
When she exited, Eve gestured to Trueheart. “Any tingles?”
“No, sir. So far the canvass hasn't turned up anybody who saw a vehicle entering or leaving the alley.”
“Witness heard the body hit-and caught a glimpse of the taillights at the mouth of the alley. Three vertical squares on each side. Little bits and pieces. If the witness hadn't been all but on top of the exit door when she hit, nobody would have seen even that much.”
“Bad luck for them,” Trueheart said.
“Yeah, bad luck for them. We'll let the CSU and sweepers do their thing, for what it's worth, and write this up from my home office. We've got another face to pin to our board, Trueheart.”
She looked at the black bag being loaded into the morgue wagon. “Bad luck for her.”
“I didn't mean any disrespect before, Lieutenant, regarding the bad luck comment.”
“I didn't hear any disrespect.” As she walked back toward her vehicle, she scanned as she had before. Street, sidewalks, windows, roofs, faces. “Meredith Newman was dead the minute they laid hands on her. There was nothing we could do for her. So we do for her now.”
“I shouldn't have missed the points on-scene. The fact that the body had been sanitized.”
“No, you shouldn't have. You won't next time.” She drove south, taking her time. “You learning anything working under Baxter?”
“He pushes the details, and he's patient. I'm grateful you gave me the chance to work in Homicide, Lieutenant, and to train under Baxter.”
“He hasn't corrupted you yet.” She turned east, cruised.
“He says he's working on that,” Trueheart said with a quick smile. “He speaks highly of you, Lieutenant. I know he kids around, that's his way. But he has nothing but the greatest respect for you as a police officer.”
“He didn't, he wouldn't be on this investigative team.” She checked the rearview, the sideview, back to the front. She turned south again. “And if I didn't have the same for him, he wouldn't be on this team.”
She pulled up at a bodega, dug out credits. “Run in, will you, get me a tube of Pepsi. Whatever you're drinking.”
The fact that he didn't appear to find the request odd told her Baxter sent the kid off on similar errands routinely. While he dashed out and into the shop, Eve sat, watched, tapped her fingers lightly on the butt of her weapon.
Trueheart came out with her Pepsi, and a cherry fizzy for himself She waited until he'd strapped in, then began to cruise as before.
“Do we have another stop to make, sir?” he asked a few moments later.
“Why do you ask?”
“You're well east now of your home.”
“That's right. Keep drinking that fizzy, Trueheart, keep facing front. But check the side mirror. You see that black panel van about five vehicles back?”