Chapter Eighteen

Glenda had just opened the gallery when they walked in. Eve supposed she'd dressed for the memorial—or for work—which involved a slim back dress.

She stood with a man—early thirties, black suit, burnished blond hair in a small topknot—and held up a finger to Eve as a signal to give her a minute.

"Essie will prepare the Stenner watercolor for transport. Ms. Eglin's sending a messenger to pick it up around noon. Just make sure everything's ready. If Dale Wisebrenner brings in the bronze I approved after I leave, I want it placed in the south gallery."

"Glenda, you told me. We've got it. And I know to contact Mr. Gibbets about the pottery, and tag Wilfred if he doesn't show up by one. Don't worry, please don't worry. You've got enough on your mind."

"Nagging you helps take my mind off what's on it." She gave his arm a squeeze as she spoke. "Give me a second."

As she crossed to Eve and Peabody, the man discreetly moved through an alcove to give them the space.

"I hate memorials," she said. "I can't imagine anyone actually enjoys them, but I just hate them. Add I'm barely back from vacation and taking most of the day off. I'm dumping a lot on our team. Which is an excuse," she added, "not to think about how much I hate going to Erin's memorial. She's too young to be memorialized. She should've had decades more."

She brushed a hand over her perfectly styled hair. "And now I'm rambling. How can I help you?"

"I'm curious whether there are any plans for Erin's art. You mentioned you hoped to have a posthumous showing."

"Yes. Actually, Erin's mother contacted me yesterday. It seems the family, and Shauna, talked it over. They're going to choose some of Erin's paintings for themselves. They'd asked if I'd be willing to hold a showing in the fall. They want to start a scholarship in Erin's name for art students."

She squeezed her eyes shut. "Damn it. It gets to me. It's a generous idea, and Erin would love it. No question. I want to put together a proposal for the owners. They're in Florence at the moment. I want to waive or at least greatly reduce our percentage."

"So all her paintings—other than what she sold or gave as gifts, and whatever her family and Shauna want to keep."

"Exactly. None of them want to profit, and instead want to create something meaningful. She has a lot of work stored at the studio."

"Yeah, we saw it. Since they're planning this, there's a piece I'd like to pre-buy or bid on—whatever it is."

"Oh?"

"Pizza parlor, interior. A lot of color and movement, and a lone figure sitting at the window counter."

"Yes, I know the piece. It's good. Not her best, if you want my opinion—which was also hers. But it's good. Can I ask why you want it?"

"The place has a personal meaning for me."

Glenda smiled a little. "Which means I could double its price, but won't. In any case, if you find who killed Erin, they'll want to gift it to you."

"I couldn't accept that. Not how it's done."

"Understood. I'll speak to them. Personal meanings matter."

Glenda looked over toward the portrait of the old woman.

"It's all personal now."

"But you'll price the paintings you exhibit and sell?"

"Yes, that's my job."

"What about the paintings they keep?"

"I'll appraise them if they want, for insurance, or simply to have a record. They haven't asked about that."

"Has anyone else?"

"No." Her eyes narrowed. "You'd like me to let you know if anyone does."

"Yes."

"Then I will. If money was the reason, I hope you not only find them, catch them, but they live a long, miserable life in prison."

"When we find them, catch them, I expect they will. Thanks for your help."

They walked outside, headed for the car.

"It's not money," Eve said. "Maybe, maybe the killer realizes that's a handy side benefit, but it's not money."

"Money's not personal, and this was."

"This was, and is. But making some money off the dead artist? A sweet bonus."

When they reached the car, Eve slid behind the wheel. "We'll head over to the memorial."

"It's a little early."

"Yeah. This way we can watch people as they come in."

Eve couldn't claim to have a fondness for memorials, but God knew she'd been to more than her share.

The facility was quiet, dignified with its muted colors and subtly flower-scented air. Some light spilled through windows, but even that spilled subtly thanks to filters and privacy screens.

The second-floor room contrasted with the subtle, the muted, with vases and urns of boldly colored flowers, with more strewn on a long table of photographs of the memorialized. From childhood, Eve noted, to the end of her life.

On the other side of the room, another long table held finger foods, coffee, tea, more flowers.

What Eve assumed was a self-portrait stood on an easel at the front of the wide room. On the other side of a standing display of flowers stood another easel with an enlarged photo of Erin and Shauna, pressed cheek to cheek as they smiled out.

They hadn't arrived too early for all, Eve noted. She recognized Erin's family, and Shauna's, gathered together near that front display.

Shauna, wearing a severe black suit, her bright hair pulled back just as severely, stood with them. When she saw Eve and Peabody, she laid a hand on a woman's—Erin's mother's—arm, then stepped away to cross to them.

If she'd looked exhausted on the 'link screen earlier, now she looked nearly gray with fatigue. She'd done her best with makeup, but it showed through.

"Thank you for coming. I don't suppose you have anything to tell me."

"Not yet."

Shauna just nodded, looked around as if she'd forgotten where she stood. "Erin loved flowers. She liked vivid colors. We picked these for our wedding."

"They're lovely," Peabody said in her gentle way.

"We wanted what she'd want." She glanced up as music came on, soft but with a steady beat. And smiled a little. "No dirges for Erin. She liked vivid music, too. Would you come speak to her family, and mine?"

"Of course."

With Peabody, Eve walked down to the vivid flowers with their bold scents and spoke with the grieving.

"Is there nothing?" Erin's mother had given her daughter her eyes, and now they pleaded with Eve. "Nothing you can tell us?"

"I can tell you that Erin's our priority, and we're doing everything we can to find out who took her life, who took her from you."

"She was so bright." The mother looked toward the daughter's portrait. "So bright and full of life."

Her husband put his arm around her shoulders as they began to tremble. "Come on now. Let's sit down a minute. Let's sit down over here."

People began to sprinkle in, so Eve signaled Peabody. They'd stand in the back. And they'd watch.

Angie walked straight over to Erin's parents, embraced them both. And when Erin's mother broke down, embraced her again, and just held on.

Donna came in, tears already streaming, with Glenda holding her hand.

It didn't surprise her to see Crack and Rochelle come in, both in dark suits.

Becca came in, Greg's arm around her waist as they made their way to Shauna. He held them both in a three-person hug, then kissed Shauna's forehead.

He went to the refreshment table, poured two cups of tea, then walked back to them, urging them to take the cups.

Others came, a sprinkle, then a stream. Another older couple—Barney's parents, Eve identified. They went straight to Shauna, then to her parents.

Others she recognized from the party, some of them with other women or with men, some alone. Voices murmured over the music.

She spotted Lopez's grandmother, on the arm of a man with silver hair. And where was Lopez? she wondered.

"A lot of people," Peabody commented. "I don't recognize all of them."

"There's one who's not here."

"Yeah, I got that. Pretty strange if she doesn't at least make an appearance."

Marcus Stillwater rushed in, looked harassed. After a glance at Eve, he muttered, "Caught in traffic, damn it. Told them to leave without me, then got caught in traffic."

He hurried to Shauna, embraced her, then her family, then others. Crack and Rochelle made their way to the back and Eve.

"A lot of people cared about that girl," Crack said. "You're going to find the one who didn't."

"Working on it."

"The one who just came in? He's doing the eulogy. Shauna said she asked him, as she knew he'd handle it. She tried to write something out but worried she'd just break."

"Barely holding on now," Rochelle murmured. "I just can't imagine."

Stillwater pinned on a mic and stepped to the front of the center of the room.

His voice came clear and just loud enough to cut through the murmurs and still them.

"On behalf of Erin's family, Shauna and her family, thank you all for coming to remember Erin. I'm Marcus, and while I only knew Erin a little more than a year, she brought such light and love into my life."

He spoke, and spoke well, of her as a friend, a woman, an artist. His words brought tears, a little laughter, more tears, and Eve thought probably comfort.

When he finished, he invited anyone who wanted to say a few words, tell a story, share their thoughts.

Angie spoke of their long friendship; Donna of Erin's unshakable loyalty. Glenda added more about her talent and her verve.

Others shared personal stories.

Barney stood behind Becca and Shauna, a hand on each of their shoulders.

When Shauna stepped forward, he said something to her. But she shook his hand away and walked to the front.

"Erin changed my life," she began in a voice that trembled like the hands she clasped together. "She expanded my life and she brightened it. Who knew a pair of pink shoes could matter so damn much?"

A low ripple of laughter, and she managed a ghost of a smile.

"Without those shoes, she might never have shown me what love is, what it can be, what it needs to be. The sixteen months we had together opened my world, my mind, my heart."

As she spoke of love, Eve caught a movement out of the corner of her eye.

Lopez came in.

She wore red, stoplight, in-your-face red. A body-skimming dress that stopped at mid-thigh she'd paired with sky-high heels in the same bold color.

She moved through the crowd in a saunter that had Eve's instincts prickling.

"This won't end well," she muttered, and started to follow.

Lopez stopped a foot from Shauna, put a hand on one hip.

"This is bullshit."

Stillwater moved toward ChiChi, but Shauna shook her head.

"Leave her alone. What's bullshit, ChiChi?"

"This, you, all of it. You standing there with your teary eyes and in your shop clerk's black suit, talking about Erin like you knew her. You didn't! You knew what you wanted her to be. You know what you wanted out of her, and it's bullshit."

Lopez's grandmother spoke in low Spanish—Eve didn't need the language to recognize a harsh rebuke.

Lopez just flicked a hand.

"I knew her. I knew who she was. Not the boring doormat you turned her into. She had life , and you drained it right the hell out of her. You fucking killed her. You bitch, she's dead because of you."

People gasped, as expected. Stillwater moved forward again, but not before Lopez struck out with a slap that rang in the shocked silence.

And neither he nor Eve moved quite fast enough to stop Shauna when her fist jabbed out.

Good punch, Eve thought as Stillwater managed to catch Lopez before, eyes rolled up, she crumpled.

"She had that coming." Shauna heaved out a breath. Instead of gray-tinged fatigue, her face glowed with rage. Those dull eyes went brilliant with it. "I'm not sorry. She had that coming."

The grandparents stood. With dignity, the woman approached Shauna. "We apologize for ChiChi's behavior, her disrespect at such a time. We'll take her home."

"She's, ah, out." Stillwater looked up at Shauna with a mix of horror and admiration. "I can carry her out. I guess."

"Just out of the room," Eve told him. "If she needs medical attention, we'll call for it. Then she'll be charged with assault."

"Oh, but—" Shauna started to speak, then stopped at Eve's sharp, fierce look. "I hit back."

"Self-defense."

"She was overwrought," Ms. Lopez began.

"Yes, ma'am, she was. We'll give her time to settle down. She's coming around. If you could take her out so they can continue with the memorial, we'll take it from there."

"You'll make her pay a price." Ms. Lopez sighed. "Perhaps that's best. We should contact our lawyer. Should she have a lawyer?"

"That would be up to you. She's entitled to one. If you decide to bring one in, he can come to Cop Central. Peabody, go read Ms. Lopez her rights and ask if she wants medical assistance."

"Yes, sir."

The grandmother turned to Shauna. "I would apologize to you, Shauna, and to all who came to honor Erin on this solemn occasion."

"No, se?ora."

"Yes," she insisted. "Our very deep apologies. If you'll excuse us."

With considerable dignity, she took her husband's arm and walked out.

"I don't want to press charges," Shauna began.

"Yes, you do. Actions require consequences. If it all comes down to a slap, she'll get off with a slap."

"You think—"

"I'm going to find out. Leave this to us, and finish what you're here to do."

Eve glanced around the room, at the shocked faces, the fascinated ones, then left them all to it.

She walked to where Lopez sat on a sofa with her grandparents, and with Stillwater standing like a baffled and reluctant guard beside Peabody.

"Go back in, Marcus," Eve told him. "Drama's over."

"Sure. Okay. Wow."

"Ms. ChiChi Lopez states she doesn't require any medical assistance at this time."

"Fine. Did you inform her of her rights?"

"Just more bullshit," Lopez snapped. "But she rattled them off."

"ChiChi." For the first time, the grandfather spoke, and in tones of absolute authority. "Mind your tongue."

She set her bruised jaw, pressed her lips—the full bottom one split on the corner—together. And said nothing more.

"We'll forgo the cuffs," Eve told her, "unless you want more trouble."

"Go with them." Her grandmother patted Lopez's hand, then rose. "Behave sensibly. The lawyer will come if needed."

"I don't need a damn—" She broke off at her grandfather's cold stare. "Yes, Abuela , thank you."

Getting to her feet, Lopez walked between Eve and Peabody.

"It is bullshit." She snarled it once she was out of earshot. "And you know it. So I slapped the bitch. Big deal."

"Yeah, big deal known as assault. Add verbal assault for good measure, and let's kick in disturbing the peace just for the hell of it."

"You're enjoying this."

"Can't say otherwise. I'm also doing my job."

Outside, she put a hand on Lopez's head as she put her in the back of the car.

"We could throw in public drunkenness, couldn't we, Peabody?"

"Well, Lieutenant, she's definitely had more than a couple this morning."

"So I had a couple of drinks. I'm old enough, and someone I cared about is dead. Dead because of that stupid, whiny bitch."

Eve pulled out into traffic. "And how, exactly, is Erin dead because of Shauna?"

"Jesus, are you stupid?"

"Jesus, Peabody, am I stupid?"

"I would say the opposite of stupid. Especially when it comes to murder."

"Why, thank you, Peabody, for that vote of confidence. But, ChiChi, since you ask, why do you think I might be stupid?"

"Because it's freaking obvious." Wincing, she cradled her jaw as she snapped the words out. "If not for that prissy-ass bitch, Erin would still be alive."

Willing to play, and understanding the rules, Peabody shifted to look back. "So Shauna killed Erin?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake. Not just stupid, brain-dead. She wouldn't have the guts. She doesn't have the spine. Or the brains. Some second-rate shoe store manager playing at getting naked with another woman. For kicks. For adventure."

"Since they planned to get married this weekend, it sounds like more than playing. More than kicks and adventure."

"Maybe she'd have gone through with it for the splash, for the attention. But it wouldn't last anyway."

Eve pulled into the garage.

"How about we try this? Since you're so much smarter about this than we are, we'll go up, sit in Interview. You can tell us your thoughts. We'll put off processing you for the assault."

"I don't give a flying fuck about the assault."

"Then you shouldn't give one about a formal interview."

"I don't."

Peabody assisted Lopez out of the car, guided her to the elevator.

"Do you want some Sober-Up before said interview?" Eve asked her.

"I'm not drunk, for Christ's sake. I had a couple of drinks."

They flanked her in the elevator.

"Jaw's swollen," Eve commented.

"Fuck you."

"Back at you, but Detective Peabody will get you an ice pack."

When the doors opened for more cops, Eve edged Lopez back. For once, she'd ride all the way up.

And as she did, she watched some of the bravado erode.

"I got us Interview B, Lieutenant."

"That'll work."

"My family will take care of bail. I don't need this crap."

"Interview first, and maybe we can convince the injured party to drop the charges."

"I don't give a shit."

But she did, Eve thought. Now that the bravado, some of the Dutch courage wore thin, and the situation took hold, she gave more than a shit.

"Then, again, you shouldn't give one about an interview."

Taking Lopez by the arm, Eve led her out of the elevator on Homicide's level.

"Want something to drink?" she asked easily.

"Vodka martini, very dry, two olives."

"Yeah, we'll get that for you in about never. How about some water, Peabody, all around?"

"Yes, sir."

As Peabody peeled off, Lopez sneered. "Figures you'd go by ‘sir,' like a man."

"Does it? Funny, I think of it as genderless respect, but it takes all kinds." She opened the door to Interview B. "Have a seat. Record on. Dallas, Lieutenant Eve, entering Interview with Lopez, ChiChi, on the matter of H-7823, and due to assault charges pending. Were you read your rights regarding those assault charges, Ms. Lopez?"

"Yeah, and assault's bullshit. You know it's bullshit."

"On the contrary, I personally witnessed your assault on Shauna Hunnicut roughly twenty minutes ago."

"So I slapped the bitch. She's earned worse."

"Note that the accused has admitted to said assault. Peabody, Detective Delia, entering Interview. And how has Ms. Hunnicut earned worse than a slap?"

"Erin's dead, isn't she?"

Teeth bared, she snarled it out.

"Are you accusing Ms. Hunnicut of killing Erin Albright?"

"Like she'd have the guts, or the spine, or the smarts."

Gingerly, Lopez pressed the ice pack Peabody offered against her jaw.

"But she's the reason," ChiChi continued. "It's her fault. It's all her fault."

Eve cracked her tube of water, took a casual sip. "Since we're all sitting here, how about you explain how Erin's death is Shauna's fault."

"You didn't know her, all right? You didn't know Erin."

"But you did," Peabody said, her voice as gentle as Lopez's was strident.

"You're goddamn right I knew her. She was bright and bold, really fearless. She had passion. Real passion. For her art, for life, for living life. Up for anything, that was Erin. Always on the go, always doing, looking, being . Shauna killed all that. She killed all of that before somebody finished the job."

"How?"

Those dark eyes bored into Eve's. "She manipulated her. Playing at the romance, all of it. Suddenly, Erin's staying home instead of partying. She's working on her art, sure, but she's not fucking living. Doesn't go out, starts hanging with those lame friends of Shauna's. It's all Shauna, Shauna, Shauna, all the damn time."

"And not you. Not after Shauna."

"Tells me to lay off Shauna. ‘Oh, come on, ChiChi, don't be bitchy.' Says how happy she is, but bullshit. Laughs it off when I make a move on her, the way she used to like."

"That must've hurt." Peabody's eyes shined with sympathy.

"Fucking A, it hurt, but it showed me just how Shauna twisted her up. Like the two of us can't have sex anymore? Like she can't swing by the club for some laughs? No, oh no, they're saving money for a nice fucking sofa? Then, Jesus, they're getting married? What the serious fuck!"

"You resented all that," Eve said. "Who could blame you? You and Erin had something. Then Shauna got in the way."

"I'm telling you, she manipulated Erin. She dazzled her somehow. White dresses, a wedding? Maybe having kids down the road? That wasn't Erin."

"What did you do about it?" Eve asked her.

"I tried talking to her, but she wouldn't listen. I tried warning the bitch off, but she ignored me. I even tried talking to Angie, since she and Erin are tight, but she told me Erin was happy, in love, and I'd end up having her cut me off if I kept it up.

"And Donna." Lopez rolled her eyes. "She's useless. Whatever Erin wants is just perfect. Erin wants Shauna, so Shauna's perfect. They couldn't see what I could. None of them could see what I saw."

"Did you tell Erin you were in love with her, ChiChi?"

At Eve's words, Lopez's eyes filled. Tears fell in a flood. "She said she was sorry. Sorry! But she didn't feel that way about me. She couldn't feel that way. She loved Shauna. She was making a life with Shauna, and she was sorry."

"When did you tell her?"

"The morning of the goddamn party. The morning before she died. Died because she thought she loved Shauna. And she's spending the last morning of her life cleaning somebody's apartment."

"You went there."

"Yes, I went there. I went there to tell her. I went there to stop her from making this stupid mistake."

"Is that when she gave you the case, the case with the tickets to Hawaii?"

Like a child in a tantrum, she tossed the ice pack across the table.

"She didn't give me the goddamn case. She didn't tell me anything about Hawaii. I knew that was Shauna's thing. I knew how much Erin wanted to make it happen, but she didn't tell me. Because Shauna, always Shauna."

Now she laid her head down on the interview table and wept. "She'd be alive if it wasn't for Shauna. Why didn't they kill her? Stupid, second-rate shoe clerk with her boring friends and let's-stay-home lifestyle. Who'd miss the bitch? Erin was so much more. So much more."

"And feeling this way, you still went to the party that night?"

"I've got my pride, don't I? I'm not sitting at home alone. I'm not letting them all see how it hurts."

Straightening, she swiped at her face. Took a long moment to compose herself. The anger hadn't drained, Eve thought, not by a long shot. But when she spoke again, her voice was more controlled.

"I'd have made Erin happy. We could've had a real life together and not some pale, boring excuse for one. Now she's dead, and that pasty-faced redhead's standing up there talking about her like they had some love of a lifetime.

"She's lucky I just slapped her."

She took two deep breaths. "It wouldn't have lasted. Erin would've gotten tired of it, she'd have wanted to bust loose again, and that bitch would've wanted a dick again. But now Erin's dead, and it's over."

"Killing her, that's payback for rejection."

Eyes dry again, Lopez stared at Eve. "Look at me, for Christ's sake. She'd have come back to me, to the life, to the passions. I could wait. Yeah, I was pissed, but I could wait. Now, because of Shauna, there's nothing to wait for."

"Blaming Erin for wanting someone, something else makes more sense."

"You didn't know her," Lopez said again. "It wouldn't have lasted. She'd have come back. I could wait. Now she can't come back. And all because of Shauna's goddamn party. I don't give a fuck about the assault. Lock me up. Erin's still dead, so the fuck what?"

"What did you think when you saw Shauna stripping down onstage at the D&D?" Eve wondered.

"I thought, Jesus, Erin's giving up this"—Lopez skimmed her hands down her body—"for that? And I damn well knew she'd come back."

Looking into Lopez's eyes, Eve nodded.

"Yeah, I bet that's just what you thought. Peabody, take Ms. Lopez down to Booking. You can sit and think some more before your bail hearing."

Eve sat back. "I didn't know Erin, but I know her now. Knowing her's part of my job, and I'm damn good at my job. Only one person's responsible for her death, and that's the one who killed her. If it helps you sleep at night to blame the woman she loved and who loved her, that's your damage. But I'll do my job and see the person responsible's held responsible."

"Shauna's why she's dead. That's all I need to know."

"Get her out, Peabody. Interview end."