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When she swayed, Hank rushed over, took her by the arm. “Mrs. Mira, ma’am, you need to sit down. You sit down, and I’m going to get you some water.”
“You’re lying.” But this time her voice trembled.
Eve didn’t sit, but stepped over to her. The woman didn’t weep, but sat pale as ice. The shock in her eyes struck as genuine.
“My partner and I entered the house on Spring approximately sixty minutes ago and discovered your husband’s body. I’m a murder cop, Mrs. Mira, a ranked officer. I don’t lie about murder. Can you tell me if you know anyone who would want to kill him?”
“No one would do this. No one would dare.”
“Someone did this, Mrs. Mira. Someone dared. They hurt him, are you hearing me? They made sure he felt pain before they ended it. Who wanted to cause him pain?”
“I don’t know. Go away.”
Peabody made an attempt, her voice soothing, sympathetic. “Is there anyone we can contact for you, Mrs. Mira? Family, a friend?”
“I don’t want your help. Get out. Get out or I’ll have you thrown out!”
Hank rushed back with a glass of water. She grabbed it and flung it across the room. “All of you, get out!”
“You can reach me at Central if you have any questions or want to make a statement.” Eve turned, walked to the door. She glanced back once, saw that Mandy continued to sit, hands gripped together, eyes shocked but dry.
“You’re leaving?” Eve asked Hank as he came out with them, shut the doors.
“I’ll stick for now, in case. I don’t know what to say. Can I contact her son, her daughter?”
“Go ahead. Make sure you give them my name.” She stepped back on the elevator with Peabody. “Good luck, Hank.”
“She’s scary.” Despite eyes and ears, Peabody blurted it out. “I know people react in all kinds of ways to death notifications, but she’s scary.”
“She is what she is, and we did what we came to do.”
Eve’s head throbbed, a dull but steady beat as she drove toward the Miras’ home. Again, she’d do what she had to do—and didn’t expect anyone to call her a liar or throw a glass. Maybe that’s what made this one harder.
She found street parking just over a block from the pretty townhome. When they got out, started to walk, she stuck her hands in her pockets and found the gloves she’d forgotten about.
At least she hadn’t lost them yet.
“Give Nadine the green.” Rolling her shoulders, she started up the short steps to the front door.
She rang the bell, focused on her approach, the basic procedure. The woman who opened it had Mira’s coloring, Mr. Mira’s lankier build. Gillian, Eve remembered, the Wiccan daughter who lived in... yeah, New Orleans.
“Dallas. Hi, Peabody.”
“Hey, Gillian. I didn’t know you were in town.”
“I came in last night. I had a feeling, something off, and contacted my mother. So here I am.”
“It’s nice to see you, even given.”
Gillian smiled at Peabody, stepped back. “The same for you. Mom and Dad are in the living room. This is hard on him, so don’t you be.”
“We were figuring on hauling him down to Central in restraints where we keep the saps and rubber hoses.”
Gillian just gave Eve a cool stare with her mother’s eyes. “Let me take your coats.”
She did her hostess duty, then led them in.
They’d lit a fire, and the Miras sat together on the sofa in the pretty room much as they had at the crime scene. He looked tired, Eve thought, and felt a pang of guilt knowing she would add to the strain.
