“How many ladies’ lounges?” Eve wondered.
“The one main,” Lori told her. “You can hoof it to others, but the main’s big and beautifully appointed. It means something, doesn’t it, that we were all there—the six of us—that night?”
“It may.” Following a hunch, she took out her notebook, scrolled through to Daphne Strazza’s ID shot. “Maybe you noticed her there.”
Lori took the handheld, stared at it. “She’s so striking. It’s not a face you’d forget. And, yes, I saw her, saw her in the lounge. It was the Celebrate Art Gala. I even spoke with her. She’d been crying—was doing her best to hide it. I asked if she was all right, the way you do. She said she had a headache, and had taken a blocker. She was wearing a fabulous white dress with hints of sparkle, beautifully fitted, cut low on the back, an off-the-shoulder bodice with thin black chains draped on each shoulder.”
Ira let out a laugh. “Lori can’t remember the day of the week, but she never forgets an outfit.”
“And I don’t forget she had a bruise here.” Lori touched her left biceps. “Just a little bruise, but still showing some red. A fresh bruise, like she’d been pinched hard. I remember her because she was a strikingly beautiful woman in a strikingly beautiful dress who looked unbearably sad and was trying to hide it.”
Lori drew a breath. “I wonder if you could tell her, ask her, if I could go see her. If she’d want to talk to me, talk to me and Rosa. She may not be ready, but you could give her my contact information. Whenever she is…”
“I will. I don’t want to take you through that night again, but I wonder if you’d let my partner and me see the bedroom.”
“It’s not the same.” Lori looked at her husband, waited for his nod. They rose together. “We’ll take you up. We’ve made changes,” she explained as she led the way. “We couldn’t live here at first. We went to our house in the Hamptons, even talked about selling this house.”
“We’ve lived here all our married life,” Ira added. “In the end we decided we’d make some changes, add more security. We’d try, and if either of us felt we needed to sell, we would.”
“It’s a great house,” Peabody commented. “You can feel the history of it just like you can feel the, well, settled aura. It reflects you both, I think.”
“So do we.” On the second floor, Ira moved to a pair of double doors, opened them. “We can secure these, and did for the first few weeks.”
Eve stepped inside.
In the file, the walls showed a strong, tropical blue. Now they held a warm, quiet taupe. The bed with its elaborate chrome posts had been replaced with something more simple with a high padded headboard. Everything in the room spoke of the simple, the streamlined, all the tones read soft, soothing.
Eve noted the motion detectors, the alarms, the locks on the windows.
“The en suite also serves as a safe room,” Lori told them. “We can secure the door from the inside, bring down a steel panel over it. It has its own alarm and communication system. It’s a little over-the-top, but—”
“Nothing that makes you feel safe in your own home is over-the-top.” Eve responded.
Despite the changes, she could see it as it had been.
Just another pattern, she thought now. He worked on patterns.
“Do you still have the house droid?”
“No. After the police released it, we had it reprogrammed and sold it.” Ira draped an arm around Lori’s shoulders. “We hired a security team, and a live-in housekeeper with a background in security.”
“Okay. Thanks for the time and the access. Do you have any problem with us talking to Lilia Dominick?”
“Not at all,” Lori said. “Will you remember to give my information to Mrs. Strazza?”
“I’ll give it to her today.”
“Find him.” Ira tightened his hold on his wife. “Put him away.”
We will, Eve thought, but could only say, “We’ll do all we can.”
* * *
“Contact the border collie, see if she’ll come down to Central.” Because the predicted snow had started during their time inside, Eve dragged on her snowflake hat. “We’re going to go by, have another talk with Daphne, then we need to put this together.”
“All the victims in the same place, the same time, the same event? That means something.”
“Yeah. The killer was there, too. No way he wasn’t there. As staff, as a guest. He saw these people, and something started the wheels turning in his fucked-up head.”