“I don’t see that’s any of your business.”
“If you’ve had company this evening, it may clear up some questions.”
He was blushing, Eve noted.
“I’m with a friend. I don’t like being interrogated about my personal life.”
“I don’t blame you, but Ava Crampton lost her personal life.”
“I’m sorry about that, but it has nothing to do with me. And I’d really like to know why you think it does.”
“Elegant Transportation took Ms. Crampton to Coney Island tonight.”
He looked both irritated and baffled. “Lieutenant Dallas, if you’re questioning everyone who routinely uses Elegant Transpo, you’re in for a really long night.”
“The reservation for the limo was in your name, and secured with your credit card.”
“That’s ridiculous. Why would I order a limo for a woman I don’t even know?”
“That’s a question,” Eve said.
Irritation increased enough to smother the bafflement. “When was it booked?” He snapped out the question. “What card was supposedly used?”
When Eve told him, he took a moment before speaking. “That’s my company card. I use that transpo service routinely for both business and personal, but I know neither I nor my admin reserved transportation for tonight.”
“Let’s get this part out of the way. Where were you between ten P.M. and one A.M.?”
“Foster?”
The pretty woman wore a man’s robe miles too big for her. Her short, bark-colored hair fell to her jaw. Like Urich, she hadn’t thought to comb it.
“I’m sorry. I got worried.”
“It’s all right, Julia. It’s just some sort of mix-up. Julia and I spent the evening together.” His color came up again. “I, ah, picked her up about seven-forty-five. We had an eight o’clock at Paulo’s. Then we, ah, came back here. I don’t remember the time.”
“It was a little after ten,” Julia supplied. “We’ve been in since. What’s happened?”
He walked to her, ran a hand down her arm. “Someone’s been killed.”
“Oh, no! Who?”
“I don’t know her, but there’s some confusion about the use of my company card. I need to straighten it out. I can’t think straight,” he added. “I’m going to make some coffee.”
“I’ll do it. No, I’ll do it, Foster. You sit down. Would you like coffee?” she said to Eve and Peabody.
“That’d be great,” Eve answered.
“Foster, sit down with the police. I’ll just be a minute.”
“Sorry,” he said when Julia went out. “Sit down. This has just thrown me off. I don’t know how my company account could’ve been used. We change the code every couple of weeks.”
Eve took the ID photo out of her bag. “Do you recognize her?”
He took a good look at the picture, then scooped back his untidy hair and took another, longer study before he shook his head. “No. And I don’t think that’s a face I’d forget. She’s beautiful. Coney Island, you said,” he added when he handed the photo back.
“Yes. You’ve been there.”
He smiled. “I’ve taken my daughter there several times since it reopened. She’s going to be nine next month. I’m divorced,” he said quickly. “Her mother and I have been divorced for several months.”