Eve turned to Peabody. “Female vic, found in one of the privacy rooms. About eighty people inside, a good chunk of those with a pre-wedding party deal. The girl thing.”

  “Golly, you had yours here.”

  “Under duress. The vic was one of the brides.”

  “Harsh,” said McNab.

  “Yeah, it qualifies. Crack has the other bride with a couple friends in his office. We’re going to let her calm down some. McNab, since you’re here, you can start getting statements, contacts and releasing. Start with anyone not connected to the party. Peabody, you start with partygoers, and I’ll take the body.”

  “What about Crack?” Peabody asked.

  “We’ll talk to him. One of his people found the body, so we need that conversation. Then we’ll take the other bride. You and McNab start clearing the place out. Roarke can assist me with the body. We’ve got no electronics except the door of the privacy room, and Roarke can take that. No cams,” she muttered.

  She glanced up at the glowing neon proclaiming DOWN AND DIRTY.

  It probably would be.

  Inside, the temperature dropped an easy ten degrees. No problem, she thought, separating those in the party group from those who’d come in for booze and boobs.

  She supposed Crack had separated the brides’ party—lots of weeping or the glazed eyes of the shocked—from the just happened to be theres. Plenty of irritation, fascination, boredom on that side.

  The big man himself strode across the room, straight to Eve. He didn’t look shocked, bored, or weepy. He looked furious.

  “Somebody killed that girl in my place. You find who killed that girl. I knew that girl.”

  “Understood. We’re going to do our job, starting right now. We’re going to talk to you in a bit, and we need to talk to the person who found her.”

  “I’ve got him. He’s pretty goddamn shook. I mixed her and Shauna drinks. I mixed Erin a fucking drink not two hours ago. And somebody killed that girl in my place.”

  “Crack, I need to go take care of her now.”

  He nodded, scrubbed his hands over his face. “I asked for you because I knew you’d take care of her. I knew all of you would take care of her. I’ll show you where she is.”

  “Get started,” Eve told Peabody and McNab, and followed him.

  It brought on a flashback where the club blasted with music, lights flashing. Still-in-uniform Peabody gloriously drunk, pre-Oscar-win-and-bestseller-status Nadine Furst doing a striptease onstage. The shock of seeing the elegant Dr. Mira shaking her ass on the dance floor.

  It would’ve been along those lines, Eve thought. Noisy, pretty drunk, happy women, shaking asses, bouncing around.

  Why had one of the brides gone into a privacy room? Lured in, she wondered, as she herself had been by someone she’d considered—not a friend, in her case—but a colleague?

  “Who rented the room?”

  “She did—added it on when she booked the party like two, maybe three weeks ago. Between that,” he decided. “Don’t know why, but she said she had a surprise deal for Shauna, and not to tell anyone she had the room. I let her have it for the whole night. Mondays are slow.”

  And wouldn’t you know it, she thought when they turned down the dim corridor. The same damn privacy room.

  Crack handed her a swipe. “That’s my master. Hers is in there, on the floor.”

  “You go take care of your people. We’ll take care of her.”

  “I’m here when you want me.”

  She waited until he’d walked away, turned her recorder on, then swiped open the door.

  The victim lay on her back, brown eyes staring at the ceiling. Blood from the neck wound had run down her throat to soak the bodice of a short, shiny green dress. One of her shoes had slipped off, and one arm lay outstretched. The swipe card swam in a pool of her blood just beyond her fingers.

  One of those tiny, useless handbags lay open on her other side.

  “Seal up,” she told Roarke.

  He’d already opened her field kit, and handed her the can of sealant. “You first.”

  “No jewelry,” she noted as she coated her hands, her boots. “Somebody wanted us to say robbery. Somebody thinks we’re stupid.”

  She handed him the sealant, took the field kit, then stepped around the blood to the body.

  “She’s got a fresh wound on her forehead, and blood on the inside of the door—that’s going to be from that. So the killer was inside the room. Prepared to kill.”

  “Because?”

  “I don’t know why yet, but that’s a thin wound on her neck, and a deep one. Piano wire, maybe. Some sort of garrote. You don’t have that handy if you’re looking to mug. You’ve got a sticker maybe, a stunner, a sap. Fresh manicure,” she added as she crouched. “But two of her nails are broken, scratches on her neck where she tried to drag the wire away.”

  Eve lifted one of the victim’s hands. “Skin and blood under the nails. That’s going to be hers, too. Took her from behind, that’s how you do it. Whip the wire around and pull, give her a good knock against the door to daze her. She’d have been drinking on top of it. Party time, happy time. So reflexes are slower than sober.”

  She glanced up at Roarke. “I hadn’t been drinking when Casto went for me in here because, hey, getting married the next day. That was his mistake.”

  “In this room?”

  “Yeah. Ten bucks says Peabody’s going to talk about white saging it.”

  She took a sample of the matter under Erin’s nails, sealed it, labeled it. Then pressed a finger to her Identi-pad.

  “Victim is identified as Erin Albright, age twenty-seven, mixed-race female, resides on Twelfth Street—only a few blocks from here—with cohab Shauna Hunnicut.”

  She bagged both hands. “Maybe she got a piece of him. Doubtful, but maybe.”

  Before she reached in her kit for microgoggles, Roarke handed them to her.

  Fitting them on, she leaned close to the neck wound. “Yeah, some sort of wire. Piano wire, steel guitar string, what’s it—baling wire. Victim was garroted, with force.”

  She took out gauges. “Enough force the neck wound is a sixth of an inch deep at its deepest point. The forehead wound is fresh, a strike against the inside of the door, again with some force, but not a killing blow.”

  As she replaced gauges, took out others, she scanned the body. “The victim is five foot five. From the angle of the wound, the killer was several inches taller, pulling back and up on the wire. ME to confirm.

  “Time of death, twenty-three-forty-six.” Eve sat back on her heels. “Crack called it in at sixteen past midnight. Take a few minutes off for the one who found her to send up the alarm—and Crack’s going to come back here and check to be sure. So nobody missed her for a good twenty minutes or more. That gave her killer some room. See what’s in her purse, will you?”

  He walked around the body, crouched down as Eve was. “Lip dye, breath mints, her ID, and … three swipes in a swipe case.”

  “No ’link, no cash or credits.” Eve nodded. “Staging it.”

  Rising, she crossed over to open a black, top-handle case on the bed.

  “Okay, this is weird. Is this a grass skirt?”

  Roarke straightened and turned as she held it up.

  “It certainly appears to be.”

  “And there’s one of those boob deals out of half coconuts, those flower necklaces—two of them. A pair of pink heels, glittery, butterflies on the straps. Wait, something else. A card.”

  Eve loosened the flap, slid it out. “Got a scan of two tickets to Maui, leaving on Sunday. And the card reads: ‘I want to spend a lifetime making your dreams come true. This is just the beginning. I love you, Erin.’”

  She slipped the card and contents back in the envelope.

  “She wanted the room so she could change into this getup. The shoes mean something—I’ll find out what—but the rest is clear enough.”

  Frowning, she studied the black overnight.

  “Why didn’t he take the bag? Doesn’t even open it to see what was in it? Because he already knew. Either he didn’t care, or panicked after the kill and forgot.”

  She paced around the body and the blood. “How did he get in? Did she let him in? Why would she? A friend, a colleague. ‘Great, you can help me change for the big surprise.’

  “But I don’t think so. I don’t think so. Look at the position of the body, the blood on the door. He was in here, already in here. How did he get in here?”

  “I took a look at the locks while you tended to her. I don’t see any sign of tampering.”

  “If I’m wrong, he might have followed her, come in after. But not by force. She would’ve let him—or her—in, so that’s trust. But the whole thing reads like her killer was already in the room.”

  “Someone had to bring the bag.”

  “Yeah, and if she didn’t bring it in herself, her killer did. Something else to find out.”

  She pulled out her ’link. “I’ll bring in the morgue and the sweepers. Then we’ll start finding out.”

  Chapter Two

  When she went out, she saw McNab had cleared most of his side.

  “Some Monday night regulars,” McNab told her. “They come in on a slow night for the boobies and brew, maybe try to get lucky. Crack verified. A table of tourists from Topeka, doing some club-hopping. Came in because of the name. They were pretty trashed, and their story checked. Working my way through, hit on a few hard cases, but nobody rings.”

  “All right. Finish it out.”

  She signaled Peabody.

  As she walked to Eve, Peabody’s sympathetic face went to cop face. “They’re a mess, Dallas. They’re all either friends of one bride or the other, most of them both. None of them, so far, knew anything about a privacy room, and nobody noticed the victim leaving the club area. Some of them, including the other bride, were onstage with the holo-band. A lot of them stripped down to their underwear—or less. According to the statements I’ve taken, they’d taken over the dance floor. Some not with the group came up, joined in. No problems. One guy even bought a round of drinks, but he left.”

  “When?”

  “Closest we’ve got is about midnight, maybe a little before that. He got some ’link numbers. Wade—no last name. Tall, blond, tanned, built.”

  “TOD’s twenty-three-forty-six, so that’s cutting it close. But I want to know if he contacts any of them. I’ll see if Crack knows him. Dead wagon and sweepers on the way. Why aren’t any of them leaving?”

  “Solidarity. They stay until they all can go. And they wait for Shauna. It’s a nice group of women, Dallas.”

  “Nice people kill, too.”

  She crossed to the bar where Crack stood waiting.

  Fury still vibrated. “Handing out Sober-Up, water, coffee.”

  “We’ll clear them out as soon as we can.”

  “Shit, it ain’t that, skinny white girl. We get trouble in here sometimes. I crack heads, kick some asses. You get people puking, passing out.” He shrugged that off. “Had a guy last month—had to be ninety—shaking it like a kid out on the dance floor till he drops with a goddamn heart attack. Got the MTs in quick, but Siri—she’s working her way through medical school—already had him back when they got here.

  “Nobody ever died in my place. Nobody ever got murdered. I keep an eye, try to keep a good eye, but I didn’t see her leave. Didn’t notice how long she was gone. Mondays are slow, and we usually close down by one. Hell, I don’t usually take the stick on Mondays, but I knew Erin, and I wanted to be here, make sure it went smooth for her. The way the girls were going, I figured we’d give them till two, so I texted Ro, just so she’d know I’d be home later than usual. I figured she’d be sleeping, but she was up. So I was texting with my lady, and I didn’t keep a good eye.”

  “I’m going to tell you something while you make me some of that bullshit you call coffee in here.”

  “Don’t drink that swill, girl. I got Pepsi.”

  “Better. I’m going to tell you whoever did this wouldn’t have looked threatening, wouldn’t have stood out to your good eye. My first instinct is Erin knew them.”

  Crack’s gaze skimmed over the partygoers. “Not one of these girls. No fucking way.”

  “There’s always a way, but I don’t know yet. Who else knew about the room?”

  “Just me, far as I know.” He put a tube of Pepsi on the bar. “She was real insistent on that.”

  “You gave her the swipe.”

  “Yeah, she came in right around noon, picked it up. Said it was real cloak-and-dagger stuff. She was so fucking happy. The happy just bounced off her.”

  “Did she come alone?”

  “Yeah, just Erin. And in and out, like she had an appointment.”

  “How about tonight? Did she come in by herself?”

  “No, her and Shauna together, and a couple of others right behind them.”

  “Did she have a case, like a small overnight bag?” Eve held out her hands to indicate size. “A black case.”

  “I saw that, that case on the bed. No. She wasn’t carrying it, or anything but that little purse.”

  “Did you notice her go out at any point?”

  “Outside.” He frowned, rubbed at his neck. “Don’t think so. She and Shauna got here early, maybe nine-thirty. Most come in closer to ten, or some after.”

  “You had to take a break or two. You don’t work the stick straight through.”

  “Took fifteen about ten-thirty maybe, gave it over to Renee. Shit, she’s good on the bar, but doesn’t have a sharp eye, not so much.”

  “I’d like to talk to her, and to the one who found Erin.”

  “That’s Pete. I got him calmed down some. You want a room?”

  “No, here’s fine.”

  “I’ll get Renee first, give him a little more calm time. Get you something?” he asked Roarke.

  “I’m good. He’ll carry this,” Roarke added when Crack walked away. “Thinking he should’ve seen something.”

  “I can wish he had, but it’s not on him.”

  A woman came out, dark skin, red lips, some fear in her eyes. And built, like all of the staff.

  “I’m Renee. Crack said you needed to talk to me.”

  “You were tending bar when Crack took his break.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” She pushed a hand over a cap of rainbow-colored hair. “He had me relieve him, I don’t know, about ten-thirty. Thereabouts.”

  “Did you notice anyone leaving, or coming in when you were on the stick?”

  “Um. Um.”

  “Those are lovely earrings,” Roarke commented.

  Some of the fear died away as she lifted a hand to one of the fist-sized silver stars. “Thanks. They’re my favorite. Erin— Oh God.”

  Fear trickled back as she put a hand to those red lips.

  “I didn’t really know her, except tonight. I started working here a couple months ago, but Crack said we should make sure the brides got whatever they wanted. So she came up to the bar with her empty glass. She said like, hit me again, and how I should tell Shauna, if she asked, she went to the ladies’. And gave me a wink.”

  “Did she?”

  “Yeah, I guess. But just a few minutes.”

  “When?”

  “Um, right after I took the stick. I mixed her drink, had it waiting. She came back—just a few minutes—and—and—she looked so happy.”

  “Did you notice anyone come in during that time, when she came back?”

  “No, but … Crack says to keep an eye, but—the ladies were having so much fun. Some of them onstage, half-naked, singing, dancing. On the floor, dancing with each other. I was watching them because they were having so much fun, and they weren’t like our usuals.”

  “Did you see anyone with a black case, about this big? Black with a handle on the top?”

  “No, ma’am, I sure didn’t.”

  Considering the damp fear in those eyes, Eve let the ma’am slide.

  “Okay. I appreciate it. I’d like to speak with Pete.”

  “He’s with Crack, I’ll tell Crack. Can I go home? It’s just, my mom’s watching my little boy, and I didn’t want to tell her what happened. I get home by one on Mondays.”

  “Yeah, you can go.

  “Door, back door,” Eve murmured. “John’s down that way. She could’ve let someone in the back, whoever brought the case. Doesn’t want anyone looking for her. Give them the swipe so they can put the case in the room.”

  “And her killer goes straight there, inside.”

  “That’s one way. Odds are good nobody sees them. After it’s done, go out the same way. In and out the back. No cams to worry about.”

  “Why don’t I go check the door?”

  “Do that. I’ll have the sweepers check for prints. They couldn’t be stupid enough to leave any, but we’ll check.”

  As Roarke headed off, Crack came out again, this time with a man in a tight, sleeveless black tee that showed off impressive biceps. Eve gauged him as early twenties, currently pale as a summer cloud. His curling mass of bronze hair framed a chiseled, square-jawed face.

  He shook like a leaf in a windstorm.

  “Pete, why don’t you go around and sit down there by Dallas. Lieutenant Dallas,” Crack corrected.

  “Okay. Okay, but can you stick with me?”

  Eve gave Crack a nod. With his arm around Pete’s muscled shoulders, Crack led him around the bar.

  “Why don’t you tell me what happened?” Eve began.

  “I found her. I served her drinks earlier. They had a table, and she and the other—the one getting married—they danced on the table. Then I found her.”

  “How long after you served the drinks before you found her?”

  “Oh. I don’t know exactly. An hour? Maybe more.”

  “It was just some after midnight when you took your break,” Crack prompted.

  “Right, right. Okay.” Pressing his fingers to his eyes, Pete rubbed. “Crack said I could use one of the privacy rooms to crash for thirty. I’m taking some summer classes, going for my MBA. It’s finals week, and I’ve been cramming it. I guess it showed. Sorry.”