Echoes in Death (In Death #44)

Toya let out a sigh. “Off the top of my head—and you may have others, Gray—the mutual acquaintances would be Junie’s dad, Abbott Wyatt…”

The housekeeper or cook or whatever she was rolled in a cart. To Eve’s surprise, Gemma hopped right up. “I’ve got it, Miss P, thanks.” And began to pour and serve while Toya ran down a list of people.

“Okay. Can you tell me if you’ve ever used Jacko’s Catering?”

“All the time. We’re terrible cooks, and don’t mind staying that way,” Toya said. “Pauline will often make meals for the AutoChef before she goes home for the evening, or we’ll do local delivery or takeout. And we eat out a lot. But Jacko’s is a favorite if we’re having friends or family over. Not to serve unless it’s a bigger party, but they have a terrific menu and they deliver, so I can set it up as if I’ve fussed for hours.”

“Nobody’s fooled,” Gray reminded her.

“No, but it’s all in the presentation.”

“How about Loan Star Rentals?”

The quick amusement faded out of Gray’s face. “I’ve used them for staging a project, and we used them when we were working on this house, staying here occasionally. We didn’t want to furnish it until we’d made real progress. How does this apply?”

“We’re connecting dots” was all Eve would say. “According to our information, you both attended the Celebrate Art Gala in April of last year. Is that correct?”

“Yes. We missed the year before because Gray was on a project out of town, and I didn’t want to go alone. It’s no fun without him.”

“I’d like you to think back to that night. Who you met, who you spoke with. There was dancing. You probably danced with other people.”

“We had a table of friends,” Toya recalled. “It’s a lovely evening, really one of my favorite events. We spoke to so many people … I couldn’t begin. Gray?”

“It’s a social evening,” he continued. “We had a lot of friendly competition in our group and with some others we know on a couple of items in the silent auction.”

“Anyone who stands out for any reason? Anyone who bothered you or made you uncomfortable?”

“Mavis Freestone was there—talk about a standout. I actually stalked her into the ladies’ lounge and begged an autograph and a selfie for Gemma.”

“You a fan?” Eve asked Gemma.

“Anybody who isn’t is wheeze. She’s the ult.”

“Yeah, she’s pretty much the ult.”

Gemma eyed Eve, considering. “You’re into Mavis?”

“You could say that.”

“She was so sweet about it,” Toya added, “even later when I stalked her husband, who’s one of my favorite designers. They’re such a striking couple, and I loved meeting them. It was the high point of the night for me.”

“Every time I turned around Toya was off trying for another sighting.”

“I wasn’t that bad.” Batting her husband’s arm, Toya laughed. “And I stepped out a few times so Gemma and I could text our mutual excitement. That was when—” She broke off, frowned.

“When?” Eve prompted.

“Oh, nothing. Just a minor annoyance. Not worth mentioning.”

“I’d like you to mention it.”

“Well, it’s nothing, really, but it did bother me at the time. I was in this little nook, texting Gemma, and this man sort of blocked me in.”

“What?”

“It was nothing,” Toya repeated, rubbing Gray’s arm when he reacted. “Honestly. I said, ‘Excuse me,’ or something along those lines, and stepped forward. But he didn’t step back right away. He said he’d noticed I was alone, and said I should join him for a drink. I said I was there with my husband.”

“That was it?” Eve asked.

“That’s the gist of it.”

“So he backed off when you told him you were there with your husband.”

Now Toya shifted. “Not immediately.”

“Damn it, Toya, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because you’d have confronted him, and it wasn’t really anything. I just didn’t like … He blocked me for just a few more seconds. It was deliberate, I guess, and I didn’t like the way he looked at me. But then he just smiled and walked away.”

“Did he touch you?” Eve asked.

“No. No, he did not. He invaded my space, absolutely, and it was a narrow opening to the little nook, so I couldn’t have gotten past him without touching him, and I didn’t want to. He didn’t say anything offensive. He thought I was alone, asked me to have a drink, I said no, I’m with my husband. He didn’t say anything else. But it was the body language and the look in his eyes that, I guess, insulted me, and intimidated.”

“Can you describe him?”

“Oh, I don’t really think so. It was nearly a year ago, only about half a minute at most, and it was a little dim there. Ah, he was white, I’m fairly certain, and probably in his thirties? But I’m not altogether sure.”

“You’re about six feet, right?”

“On the money.”

“Glam event like that, you’d be in heels.”

“Absolutely. I love a good shoe.”

“Was he tall, like your husband?”

“No. Shorter than me, by far. But a lot of men are shorter than me, especially when I hit six-four in heels.”

“Build?”

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