Echoes in Death (In Death 44)

“Couldn’t really see it, but he was wearing like stage makeup. I could smell it. My cousin’s an actor—done plenty of gigs off-Broadway. Well, an off-off, and one more off-Broadway. I could smell, like, the greasepaint. Just a weird artist type, I figured, and…”

Eve saw it hit, saw the horror come into the dreamy bedroom eyes. “That guy? He killed Strazza? But … he walked right by me. I let him walk right by me. I let him … He went right up the stairs in the house. Like he was supposed to. I let him in the house.”

“Did you open the door for him?”

“I…” Breathing fast, he dragged a hand through his fairly magnificent mane of hair. “No, not exactly. I was by the door, I was holding it open—can’t use a stop on the door when it’s that freaking cold. The clients don’t like it. So I was holding it open—Mac and Charlie had just carried out chairs and … Ah, yeah, Ollie and Stizzle were coming with a table, so I held the door. This guy, I saw him coming up the steps toward the door, talking on his ’link. And he walked right by me, and walked to the stairs, went up.”

“On his ’link,” Eve began as Peabody came back with the water.

Luca took the tube, cracked it. “Can I have a minute?”

“Go ahead.”

He sat, drank, sat, drank again, then shot straight up in his chair. “The lady. Mrs. Strazza. God, is she…”

“She’s in the hospital.”

“Oh, Jesus, Jesus. Is she going to die?”

“She’s stable. She’ll be all right. Did he say anything to you, this man who came in? Did you hear him talking on his ’link?”

“He didn’t even look at me, just breezed right on by. I let him breeze right on by. He was talking on the ’link, kind of pissy, you know? Like he was half pissed at who he was talking to. Said, like … ‘I’m here now, okay? They’re still eating.’ Like that. He just came in, like he belonged, like he was supposed to be there. I never thought to try to stop him.”

“How tall was he?”

“I wasn’t paying attention. Truth? I was wondering if I’d have a couple minutes to hit on Xena. Can’t get her to go out with me, and I wasn’t paying attention. Not as tall as me,” Luca said suddenly. “Shorter. Yeah. I’m six foot—or, okay, five-eleven and a half. He was shorter. Like a couple inches shorter, I think.”

“Build?”

“Hard to say. It was a lot of coat. It had flounces! Like—”

He made wavy gestures with his hands.

“Theatrical, right? A big black coat with flounces or whatever they are, and a black hat with a big brim he had pulled down, maybe a scarf? I didn’t pay attention. The shades, because I thought: Asshole.”

“Race, age, anything?”

“His voice didn’t sound old. I didn’t really see his skin color—I think he had gloves. It was really cold. I didn’t … You know, I think his face was kind of red. I didn’t really see, it was like two seconds, but maybe red. That’s weird.”

Luca blew out a breath. “I just got an impression, that’s all. I just figured they’d hired somebody to do a gig, put on an act. He walked in like he was expected, and I let him. Is it my fault?”

Eve met his eyes. “Do you think I’d soft-pedal it for you?”

“No.” His voice wavered like a man on the edge of being sick. “No. God.”

“I’m telling you it’s not your fault.”

Luca closed his eyes. Eve saw him press his lips together when they trembled. “It feels like it is.”

“It’s not. And what you’re telling us may help us catch him, so take that away. Now let’s go over it again. Did anyone else see him?”

“Ollie said something. And, yeah, Stizzle. They were heading my way, toward the door, as he went up the stairs.”

“Peabody, bring Stizzle in.” Eve looked back at Luca. “We’re going to see if he can add any details.”

6

It turned out Luca had gotten the best look, but his roommate confirmed the coat, hat, shades, and the height as shorter than Luca. And since Stizzle had noticed the UNSUB’s boots—shiny black with short, stubby heels—they estimated five-eight.