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“I don’t think so.” She filled him in as she wound and bullied her way to the East Side. “So, as far as I can tell, he moved the body and the wit, in full view of dozens, maybe hundreds of people. And nobody saw anything. The wit doesn’t remember anything.”
“I’ll have to ask the obvious. You’re sure there were no escape routes in the room?”
“Unless we’ve got a killer who can shrink to rat size and slither down a pipe, we didn’t find any. Maybe he popped into a vortex.”
Roarke turned, grinned. “Really?”
Eve waved it away. “Peabody’s Free-A gey suggestion. Hell, maybe he waved his magic wand and said, ‘Hocus pocus.’ What?” she said when Roarke frowned.
“Something . . . in the back of my mind. Let me think about it.”
“Before you think too hard?” She veered into the health center’s lot. “Just let me point out there is no magic wand, or rabbit in the hat, or alternate reality.”
“Well, in this reality, most people notice when a dead body’s paraded around under their noses.”
“Maybe it didn’t look like one. They have a couple of maintenance hampers on board. The killer dumps the body in, wheels it out like it’s just business as usual. And no, we haven’t found any missing hampers, or any trace in the couple on board. But it’s a logical angle.”
“True enough.” Once she’d parked, he got out of the car with her. “Then again, logic would say don’t kill in a room with only one out, and a public one, don’t take the body, and don’t leave a witness. So, it may be hard to hold to one logical line when the others are badly frayed.”
“They’re only frayed logic until you find the reason and motive.” Eve pulled out her badge as they walked into the health center.
The Grogans crowded into a tiny little room with Carolee sitting up in bed, a bouquet of cheerful flowers in her lap. She looked tired, Eve thought, and showed both strain and resignation when she saw Eve come in.
“Lieutenant. I’ve been poked and prodded, screened and scanned and scoped. All over a bump on the head. I know something bad happened, something awful, but it really doesn’t have anything to do with me.”
“You still don’t remember anything?”
“No. Obviously I hit my head, and I must’ve been dazed for a while.” Her hand snuck from under the flowers to reach for her husband’s. “I’m fine now, really. I feel fine now. I don’t want the boys to spend their vacation in a hospital room.”
“It’s just a few hours,” Steve assured her. The youngest, whose name was Pete, Eve remembered, crawled onto the bed to sit at his mother’s side.
“Still. I’m sorry someone was hurt. Someone must’ve been hurt, from what Steve said. I wish I could help, I really do. But I don’t know anything.”
“How’s the head?”
“It pounds a little.”
“I have a photo I’d like to show you.” Eve offered the printout of Dana Buckley. “Do you recognize her? Someone you might’ve seen on the ferry.”
“I don’t think . . .” She lifted her hand to worry at the bandage on the forehead. “I don’t think . . .”
“There were a lot of people.” Steve angled his head to look at the photo. “We were looking out at the water most of the time.” He glanced with concern toward the monitor as his wife’s pulse rate jumped. “Okay, honey, take it easy.”
“I don’t remember. It scares me. Why does it scare me?”
“Don’t look at it anymore.” Will snatched the photo away. “Don’t look at it, Mom. Don’t scare her anymore.” He thrust the photo back at Eve. “She was in the picture.”
“Sorry?”
“The lady. Here.” He pulled a camera out of his pocket. “We took pictures. Dad let me take some. She’s in the picture.” He turned the camera on, scrolled back through the frames. “We took a lot. I looked through them when they had Mom away for tests. She’s in the picture. See?”
Eve took the camera and looked at a crowd shot, poorly cropped, with Dana Buckley sitting on a bench sipping from a go-cup. With a briefcase in her lap.
“Yeah, I see. I need to keep this for a while, okay? I’ll get it back to you.”
“You can keep it, I don’t care. Just don’t scare my mom.”
“I don’t want to scare your mother. That’s not why I’m here,” Eve said, directly to Carolee.
