"Cool your thrusters, Markie. No one's accusing you of anything." She held up a hand before he could speak and turned her attention to his staff. "Which one of you served Mr. Pettibone before his toast?"
"It wasn't any of us. We've been talking about it."
Eve studied the attractive Asian woman. "And you'd be?"
"Sing-Yu. I was in the living area when it happened. But I was at the far end passing champagne so the guests in that section had glasses for Mr. Pettibone's toast. And Charlie—" She tapped the shoulder of the lean black man beside her. "He was bringing in the crab puffs."
"I was working the terrace bar." Another server raised a hand. "Robert McLean. And Laurie was working the terrace guests. We didn't leave our station until we heard everyone shouting."
"I was in the kitchen." Another man spoke up. "I'm, um, Don Clump. You remember, Mr. Markie? We were in here together when we heard the commotion."
"That's correct." Markie nodded. "I'd just sent Charlie out with the crab puffs, and was instructing Don to begin a pass with the stuffed mushrooms. Gwen was just coming in with empties, and we heard shouting."
"I have a witness who states that a female member of your staff handed Mr. Pettibone a glass of champagne just before he began his toast."
Gazes shifted, dropped.
"It had to be Julie." Sing-Yu spoke up again. "I'm sorry, Mr. Markie, but she's the only one who could've done it, and she's the only one who's not here."
"Who's Julie and why isn't she here?" Eve demanded.
"I don't like my employees gossiping about one another," Markie began.
"This is a police investigation. Witness statements aren't gossip, and I expect you and your staff to cooperate. Who is Julie?" Eve asked, turning to Sing-Yu.
"She's absolutely right." Markie let out a long sigh, then moved over to pat Sing-Yu's shoulder. "I'm sorry, my dear, I'm not angry with you. Julie Dockport," he said to Eve. "She's been with my company for two months. As to where she is, I can't say. She must have slipped out in the confusion immediately following Mr. Pettibone's collapse. It took me a few moments to realize there was a problem and to get from the kitchen to the living area. I didn't see her. When the police arrived and told us to come in here, to remain in here, she didn't come."
"She wearing this getup?" Eve nodded toward the trim black pants and starched white shirts of the serving staff.
"Yes."
"Describe her."
"Medium build, I suppose, on the athletic side. Short red hair, attractive. About thirty, give or take a year one way or the other. I'd have to check my employment files to be exact on that."
"Peabody, take the staff to another area. Put a uniform on them, then go find Julie Dockport."
"Yes, sir."
When they filed out, Eve sat, gestured to Markie.
"Now. Tell me what you know about this woman."
It wasn't much. She heard words like competent, reliable, cooperative.
"She applied for a position," Markie went on. "Her references checked out. She's been an excellent employee. I can only think she was upset and frightened about what happened here tonight and left."
They both glanced over as Peabody came back in. "I can't locate her on the premises, Lieutenant."
"Do a run, get her address. I want her picked up." She got to her feet. "You can go."
"My staff and I will pack up the food and supplies."
"No, you won't. This is a crime scene. It stays as is for now. We'll contact you when it's clear for you to clean house."
* * *
She took the son and daughter next. With their spouses they were huddled together at one end of the table in the formal dining room. Four pairs of eyes red and swollen with weeping turned to Eve.