of tissues out of her purse, dabbed at her eyes. The door opened again.
“Peabody reentering Interview.”
Gwen picked up the fresh tube, sipped delicately.
“You never noticed him, this man Ariel mentioned?”
“No. But I didn’t go to her apartment that often.”
“Really?” Eve leaned back. “Yet you purchased flowers at Fruit and Flower a block and a half from her apartment numerous times, and wine at the Wine Cave two blocks from her apartment.”
“I often buy wine and flowers. I may have patronized those shops on occasion when downtown. What difference does it make?”
“Here’s where it makes a difference. You purchased flowers—flowers that the victim had on her dining table—and wine—the wine in the victim’s kitchen—on the evening of her murder.”
“That’s impossible, as I wasn’t downtown. I’ve clearly stated where I was last evening.”
“Peabody, cue it up and run it. Both those vendors have security cams, and both those cams are date and time stamped. And both?” Eve pointed to the split screen that showed Gwen purchasing the flowers, the wine. “Both clearly show you. And show you wearing the dress, the shoes you wore when you were on the hallway, elevator, and lobby cam of your apartment.
“Peabody?”
Peabody made a business of looking at her notes. “You walked two blocks, hailed Rapid Cab number 982, rode downtown to the Wine Cave, where you paid cash for a very nice Shiraz before walking the half block to buy the flowers, again for cash.”
“Those things, those cameras, can be manipulated.”
“Sure, sure, House Royale, the flower place, the wine place, they all manipulated their security feeds just for kicks. Time to cut the crap, Gwen. You left the damn wineglasses in the bedroom.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
No tear shine now, Eve noted, but a hard gleam.
“I want to contact Merit.”
“You want your lawyer? Sure, that’s your right. I wonder what your fiancé’s reaction will be when we tell him your DNA, your pubic hair were found in the dead woman’s bed. Your DNA and prints on the wineglass beside the bed. Should be interesting.”
Eve rose. “We’ll step out so you can contact your lawyer.”
“You just wait a minute.”
“Can’t continue once you say lawyer. Peabody, let’s step out.”
“I said wait a minute! I’m not contacting Merit yet. We’ll just straighten this out. I don’t want him upset by all this.”
Eve stood, hand on the door. “So you don’t want a lawyer at this time?”
“That’s what I said.”
Eve stepped back, sat again. “The record shows you waive legal representation at this time.”
“And I know this without a lawyer.” Gwen’s lips curved, smugly. “My fingerprints and my DNA are not on file, and you can’t compel me to give them to you without charging me. If you spied on me with my apartment security, you know I was in my apartment when Ariel was killed.”
“But you were in her apartment between approximately six-forty-four to nine-forty-six last night. The second cab picked you up right outside her building, dropped you off half a block from your apartment.”
Eve offered a smug smile of her own.
“Paying cash doesn’t mean we can’t track you.”
“I never said I was in her apartment, and you’re implying we had intimate relations. I’m engaged to be married, and I don’t have intimate relations with other women. You can’t claim I was or did, as you don’t have my prints or DNA.”
At the knock on the door, Peabody popped up. “They were set to rush it, but wow.” She went to the door, took the file.
Sitting again, she opened it, grinned, then slid it to Eve.
“We do now. The prints you left on the tube of water match the prints on the wineglass—left side of the bed—the wine bottle, various other areas in the victim’s apartment, and her attached studio. The DNA you left on the bed matches the DNA you left in the water bottle.
“Spit back happens to everybody.”
“That’s illegally obtained.” Fear now, the first traces, ran over Gwen’s face. “That’s illegal.”
“Nope, not even a little bit.”
Eve rolled her eyes, kicked back in her chair when Gwen began to weep. “Oh, knock it off.”
“I don’t want to be here. I don’t have to be here. I came in voluntarily, and I’m leaving!”
“Get out of that chair, and I charge you.”
“With what? I didn’t do anything!”
“We can start with lying to police officers, on the record, during a murder investigation, we can add fleeing a crime scene, and top it all off with murder.”
“I didn’t kill Ariel! I didn’t.”
“Who did?”
“I don’t know! How would I know?”
“You