Page 12 of Fury In Death

“What does that tell you?”

“Maybe it fell over. Maybe that’s all there is to it. Or maybe the killer didn’t want the family to see him beat Chu to death.”

“A bit fanciful for you, Lieutenant.”

“Not me, but maybe the killer. I need to talk to the wife. Second widow today. You could be Peabody now.”

She looked very tired, he thought, as she cleaned blood off her sealed hands. As she dragged one of her hands through her short cap of hair that held every shade of brown down to hints of blond.

And his long, lanky cop likely hadn’t eaten in hours.

He wanted to hold her a moment, to press his lips to the headache he could all but see brewing behind those focused, whiskey-colored eyes.

But she’d object rather than appreciate the gestures on an active crime scene.

However, he did, as they walked out, take her hand below the scope of her recorder and give it one supportive squeeze.

“Officer Regel, Crime Scene and the morgue are on the way.”

“I’ll watch for them.”

Chapter Two

She walked past a formal dining area with its long black table under a black-and-white fountain chandelier and through the kitchen, again black-and-white with big globe lights over the white island, a smaller version over the big black sink. The black-and-white-striped table sat in front of narrow triple windows for casual dining.

They’d gone for color in the lounge area, adding red and a few bounces of blue to the black and white. White shelving with bench seats and some sort of red-and-blue pattern behind the shelves flanked a wall screen.

The widow sat in a chair covered with minute red-and-blue checks and clutched a wineglass. She had a long, waving fall of auburn hair with expertly placed gilt streaks. Her eyes, deep and darkly green, showed the ravages of weeping. Pallor made the color she’d put in her cheeks, on her lips, around her eyes stand out like the paint on a doll.

She wore a dress, dove gray but with hints of sparkle, shoes, skinny-heeled, that matched. The red stones at her ears, around her wrist—with a glint that said ruby—popped like blood.

Regel’s partner, young, solemn, with a sharp look in her eyes, got to her feet.

“Lieutenant Dallas, Officer Seven.”

“We’ll take it from here, Officer. Thank you.”

Rachel Chu looked up from her wineglass. “You’ve been very kind, Officer Seven.”

“I’m sorry for your loss, ma’am.”

Rachel merely nodded. “I know who you are,” she said to Eve. “Both of you. Did you see what they did to Larry? Did you see what they did to him?”

“Yes, ma’am. We’re also sorry for your loss. I understand how difficult this is, but I need to ask you some questions.”

“I’m having wine. I didn’t want to lose control because you have to ask me questions. I need to answer them. But I don’t know why anyone would do this. I don’t understand how anyone could.”

Eve took the chair facing her. “When did you last see or speak with your husband?”

“This morning, at breakfast. We texted later, but that was the last time . . . I left before he did. I had an early meeting. I’m head of human resources for Pitigrew. We’re a placement service for temporary and permanent employment. Larry is . . . Larry was director of bioengineering science for Banner-Wyst. Ah, scientific research and development.”

“Was he having any issues at work?”

“No, I don’t think so. He would have told me. Not specifics because I don’t understand his work. Biotech and all the rest. I’ve tried to think.”

She pressed fingers against her left temple as if to push those thoughts out.

“It’s important to try to think, but there’s no one I know who’d want to hurt him.”