“I need your break room.”
“I have a vague recollection of the break room. Chairs, a table, coffee. Down there, make a left. Oh hell, you need a key card. Security’s getting to be a bitch. I’ll take you.”
He led the way, keyed them in, then stuck his head in. “Okay, I smelled the coffee. It’s not all bad.” He headed off down the hall.
“Sit down, Zana,” Eve told her.
“I’ve just got to move around. I can’t sit still.”
“I get that. Go over what happened.”
“Just like I told you before. Like I told the detective.”
“Repeat it.”
As she did, Eve picked apart the details. “You
got bumped, spilled coffee.”
“On my coat.” Zana picked up the coat she’d tossed in a chair. “It wasn’t this bad. The first time. More spilled when Bobby… God, I can still see it.”
“Was it a bump or a push?”
“Oh, I don’t know. A bump, I guess. So many people. In part of my head I was thinking it was so exciting. Being out, the crowds, the windows, the noise. We had the soy dogs, and the packages. We should’ve gone back. I know Bobby wanted to. But—”
“You didn’t. Did Bobby say anything? Did you see anything, before he fell?”
“No… I was fussing with my coat, looking down and thinking how I hoped it would come out. I think he held a hand out, like he was going to take the coffee so I could deal with the stain. Then he was falling. I—I grabbed for him,” she managed, as her voice began to break. “Then the horn, and the squealing. It was horrible.”
Her shoulders shook as she dropped her face in her hands. Peabody stepped up with a cup of water. Zana took a sip and a couple of shuddering breaths. “People stopped to help. Everyone says how New Yorkers are cold and kind of mean, but they’re not. People were nice, they were good. They tried to help. The police came up. The ones who came with us. Bobby was bleeding, and he wouldn’t wake up. The MTs came. Do you think they’ll let me see him soon?”
“I’ll check.” Peabody turned toward the door, stopped. “Do you want some coffee?”
“I don’t think I’ll ever drink another cup.” Zana dug in her pocket, pulled out a tissue. And buried her face in it.
Eve left her there, stepped out with Peabody.
“I didn’t get any more out of her either,” Peabody began. “She’s clueless about the fact that it may have been a deliberate attack.”
“We’ll see what Bobby says. The record?”
“Baxter was taking it to the lab personally and I got the homers off the coats.”
“Good thinking.”
“I’ve got his list of wits, and copies of statements taken on-scene. The cabbie’s holding at Central. His license is valid. Been hacking for six years. Few traffic bumps. Nothing major.”
“Head down there now. Get his initial statement, and his particulars for follow-up. Spring him. Write it up, copy to me, copy to Whitney.” Eve checked the time. “Shit. Nothing more to be done. I’m sticking here until I interview Bobby. Get it wrapped back at the house, then go home. Merry Christmas.”
“You sure? I can wait until you report in.”
“No point. If there’s anything, I’ll let you know. Finish packing, go to Scotland. Drink… what is it?”
“Wassail. I think it’s wassail, especially over there. Okay, thanks. But I’ll consider myself on call until the shuttle takes off tomorrow.
“Merry Christmas, Dallas.”
Maybe, she thought, and looked back toward the break room as Peabody walked away. But some people were going to have the crappiest of holidays.