It was such a beautiful day. I went out for a walk, some window-shopping. I guess about six? Six or six-thirty? I’m not sure. I ended up walking to the park. I’m not sure what time I got back here. Eight? Nine? Then I had a salad, a glass of wine. Two,” she corrected. “And worked on some of the things Marjorie and I had discussed. Between the wine and the long walk, I was in bed and asleep by eleven.”
“Did you meet anyone on your walk, buy anything while you window-shopped?” Eve asked.
“No. Oh, Merit and I texted, what, about nine-thirty?”
“About. I texted Gwen to let her know we were ordering in more food, and we’d probably be at prep for another two or three hours. Since we were taking a break, we texted back and forth for a few minutes.”
“Ms. Huffman, given this morning’s timeline, you didn’t call nine-one-one for approximately sixty minutes after you found Ms. Byrd.”
“I know. I’m sorry. So sorry. I’ve never in my life seen—I didn’t start to think straight until I was back home, and even then. Then it hit me. I’d left her there. Just left her. I started to take a pill, a sleep aid. I can hardly believe I nearly took a sleep aid so I could just make it all go away. I started shaking all over again, and I called the police. But I couldn’t stop shaking.”
“You put a Do Not Disturb on your room and ’links.”
“Yes, when I was going to take the pill. I nearly took it again after I called, but I just drank a soother, and I finally realized the police would need to talk to me, and I wanted Merit. I wanted Merit.”
She began to cry slow, graceful tears as she huddled against him.
“I should have stayed with her.” With pretty tears sliding, she turned her face up to his. “I should have stayed with Ariel and talked to the police there. I’ll be ashamed I didn’t for the rest of my life.”
“Don’t. Don’t blame yourself.” He brushed his lips on her forehead. “I’d appreciate if we could call this now, Lieutenant, Detective. She’s had more than enough.”
“We appreciate your cooperation,” Eve said as she rose. “And we’re sorry for your loss. We’ll see ourselves out.”
On the walk to the elevator, Eve asked, “Anything we didn’t cover from the uniforms?”
“Not really. They’d just gotten started. They said there was some stonewalling—not clearing them up because of the DND, waiting for her legal rep. Then some crying and soothing to get through.”
They stepped into the elevator, started down. “They’d started to establish the relationship, the basic timeline, then we got there.”
“Okay, they didn’t get deep enough into the initial interview to see the big, gaping holes in her story.”
“They didn’t mention it,” Peabody replied. “I guess I’m going to risk wrath and say I felt some of her version had wobbles, and I always suspect anyone who can cry and look gorgeous doing it—but that may be envy. But I didn’t see the big, gaping holes.”
“Wait for them.” Eve headed straight to the lobby desk. Before she could ask, Felicity gave her a packet, sealed and labeled.
“The copy you requested, Lieutenant. If we can be of any further assistance—”
“You can. How long has Ms. Huffman lived here?”
“For nearly four years, if memory serves.”
“Does your memory include an approximation of how long she’s been seeing Mr. Caine?”
“An approximation would be the best I can offer. I’d say about a year, less for his automatic clearance.”
“Thanks. One more thing.” She pulled out her PPC, brought up Ariel Byrd’s ID photo. “Do you recognize this woman?”
“No, I’m sorry.”
“Okay, another one more thing. The other shifts on the desk. I need their names and contacts.”
“Of course. Jonathan, get that information, please.”
Once she had it, Eve thanked Felicity again before heading out with Peabody.
Peabody waited until they were in the car. “So our wit’s a suspect. I get that, it’s routine. But I don’t get why you’re narrowing in on her right off.”
“First, it just pisses me off when people lie to me.” Eve judged the traffic, zipped out into it.
“The take-out bag—that holds up. The uniforms confirmed with the security feed Huffman—no need to run facial recognition now—brought the coffee and muffins at zero-seven-twenty hours.”
“Yeah, that holds. And the wedding planner deal’s going to hold. We’ll check it, but that’ll be solid enough. The time might be a little off, but it’ll hold. The lawyer-fiancé’s late legal prep,