"Where were you, Jerry?"
"What?"
"Where were you last night, between nine-thirty and midnight?"
"You think I -- " He stopped himself, holding up a hand, closing his eyes. Three times he inhaled, exhaled. Then he opened his eyes again, and they remained clear. "It's all right. You need to make sure it wasn't me so you can find him. It's all right. It's for her."
"That's right." And studying him Eve felt a new well of pity. "It's for her."
"I was home, my apartment. I did some work, made some calls, did a little Christmas shopping via computer. I reconfirmed the dinner reservations for tonight because I was nervous. I wanted -- " He cleared his throat. "I wanted it to be perfect. Then I called my mother." He lifted his hands, rubbed them hard over his face. "I had to tell somebody. She was thrilled, excited. She was crazy about Marianna. I think that was about ten-thirty. You can check my 'link records, my computer, anything you need to do."
"Okay, Jerry."
"Have you -- Her family, do they know?"
"Yes, I spoke with her parents."
"I need to call them. They'll want her to come home." His eyes filled again, and he continued to look at Eve as tears streamed down his cheeks. "I'll take her back home."
"I'll see that she's released as soon as possible. Is there someone we can call for you?"
"No. I need to go tell my parents. I need to go." He turned toward the door, and spoke without looking back. "You find who did this. You find who hurt her."
"I will. Jerry, one last thing."
He rubbed his face dry and turned back. "What is it?"
"Did Marianna have a tattoo?"
He laughed, a short, harsh sound that seemed to scrape out of his throat. "Marianna? No. She was old-fashioned, wouldn't even go for temporaries."
"You're sure of that."
"We were lovers, Lieutenant. We were in love. I knew her body, I knew her mind and her heart."
"Okay. Thank you." She waited until he'd gone out, until the door clicked quietly closed behind him. "Impressions, Peabody?"
"Guy's heart's ripped right out of his chest."
"Agreed. But people often kill the ones they love. Even with 'link records, his alibi's going to be shaky."
"He doesn't look a thing like Santa Claus."
Eve smiled a little. "I guarantee the person who killed her won't either. Otherwise he wouldn't have been so happy to pose for the camera. Padding, change the eye color, makeup, beard, and wig. Any damn body can look like Santa."
But for now, she had to go with the gut. "It's not him. Let's check out where she worked, find her friends and enemies."
* * *
Friends, Eve thought later, Marianna appeared to have in volume. Enemies, she seemed to have none.
The picture that was being painted was one of a happy, outgoing woman who liked her work, was close to her family but enjoyed the pace and excitement of the city.
She had a tightly knit group of female friends, a weakness for shopping, a deep love of theater, and according to all sources had been in an exclusive and happy relationship with Jeremy Vandoren.
She was dancing on air.
Everyone who knew her loved her.