“No. The investigation is ongoing, and we’re using all resources.”
“It was too much to hope for.” She looked around, distractedly. “I should make coffee, or tea. Or something.”
“Don’t trouble yourself.” Peabody spoke gently, a tone Eve never quite managed with the same ease. “If you’d like something, I’d be happy to get it for you.”
“No. Thank you, no. Vonnie—she’s sleeping again. She and Zanna. I don’t know if she understands, really understands, her mother’s not coming back. She cried. Cried and cried. We all did. She fell asleep, worn out from it, and I put her back to bed. Zanna, too. I put them together, so neither of them would wake alone.”
“She’ll need counseling, Mrs. Vanderlea.”
“Yes.” Deann nodded at Peabody. “I’ve already made calls. I’m making arrangements. I want, I need . . . God. Luther and I, we want to make arrangements for Elisa. For her memorial. I’m not sure who I need to speak with about it, or how soon, or . . . I need to keep doing.” A shudder ran through her. “I’m all right as long as I keep doing something.”
“We’ll put someone in touch with you,” Eve told her.
“Good. I’ve called our lawyers as well, to arrange for emergency custody of Vonnie. To start proceedings to make it permanent as soon as we can. She’s not going to be ripped away from the only home she’s ever known. I’ve spoken with Elisa’s parents—well, her mother and stepfather. Her mother—”
Her voice broke again, and she shook her head fiercely as if to deny herself the luxury. “They’re coming here later today, so we can sit down and talk about what’s best. Somehow.”
“Elisa would be grateful that you’re taking care of her daughter. She’d be grateful you’re helping us do our job.”
“Yes.” Deann squared her shoulders at Eve’s words. “I hope so.”
“What do you know about Abel Maplewood? Elisa’s father.”
“A difficult man, in my opinion. But he and Elisa managed to maintain a good relationship. I haven’t been able to reach him to tell him. He’s out West somewhere. Omaha, Idaho, Utah . . . I’m so scattered.” She dragged both hands through her hair. “He’s been out there a week or so, visiting his brother, I think. Probably sponging off him, to be frank. Elisa was always slipping him money. Her mother’s going to try to reach him today.”
“It would help if we had his whereabouts. Just routine.”
“I’ll see you get the information. And I know you need to look in her rooms. I put the girls in Zanna’s room, so they won’t be disturbed.” She started to rise, but Peabody put a hand to her shoulder.
“Why don’t you stay here, try to rest. We know where her rooms are.”
They left her there. “Record on, Peabody.”
They stepped into a small, cheerful sitting room done in bold colors. There were a few toys scattered around, and a little basket with a red cushion Eve assumed was a kind of bed for the dog.
She moved through it, and into Elisa’s bedroom. “Make a note to have EDD check out her ’links, her data units.” She went to the dresser first, began to go through drawers.
She already had a sense of a settled, content, hardworking woman. The search of her quarters did nothing to change that. There were a number of framed photographs, most of the child. There were flowers and the little trinkets women enjoyed having around.
Her wardrobe was casual, with two good suits, two pair of good shoes. There was nothing in it that spoke of a man.
She checked the bedside ’link herself, pulled up the last incoming. It was from her mother, a chatty, affectionate conversation that included the child toward the end when the little girl ran into the room and babbled away at her gamma.
“Dallas, I think I found something.” Peabody held up another basket. This was in the cupboard under the sitting room entertainment screen.
“What is it?”
“A craft basket. Handwork stuff. She did crafts.” Peabody held up a skein of ribbon. It wasn’t red, but it was the same basic type as what had killed her.
Eve stepped forward to take it just as a little girl came into the sitting room. She was tiny, with curly hair so blonde it was nearly white spilling around a pretty, chubby-cheeked face. She was knuckling her eyes.
“That’s my mommy’s. You’re not supposed to touch Mommy’s sewing basket, ’less she says.”
“Ah . . .”
“I’ll take her,” Peabody murmured and, handing off the basket to Eve, crouched down to child level. “Hi, are you Vonnie?”
The child hunched her shoulders. “Not supposed to speak to strangers.”