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“Nobody’s going to be looking at either of you.”

Eve stopped. “I’d be looking at me if I didn’t know I was alibied. I wouldn’t be above smacking her in the face.”

“Killing her?”

Eve shook her head. “Maybe whoever tuned her up wasn’t the same person who killed her. Maybe she was working with someone, hoping to fall into easy money through Roarke. When she didn’t pull it off, he or she tuned her. It’s something to look at.”

“All right.”

“Here’s the deal.” She turned to Peabody and gave what she considered a statement. “We had a houseful of caterers and decorators and God knows crawling all over the house all day Saturday. All day. When Roarke has outside contractors on the premises, he keeps cams on, full. You’re going to contact Feeney, request that he pick up those discs, examine the equipment, and verify we were both there, all day.”

“I’ll take care of it. I’m going to repeat: Nobody’s going to look at you.” She held up a hand before Eve could interrupt. “Neither would you, Dallas, after five minutes. A face punch, sure. You’re not above it. And so what? But that was more than a punch that left her face messed up. More than a fist, and you are above that. She tries to shake Roarke down? Shit, she had to be bird stupid. He’d scrape her off like, well, like you’d scrape flying rat shit off your shoe. It’s a nonissue. Trust me, I’m a detective.”

“Been a while since you’ve managed to work that into a conversation.”

“I’ve grown mature, and selective.” As they rounded the corner, Peabody dipped her hands into her pockets. “He’s going to have to be interviewed, you know.”

“Yeah.” She could see him leaning up against the side of her vehicle—where had that come from—and working on his PPC. “I know.”

He looked over, spotted her. His eyebrows lifted, and he tucked his PPC away. “Out for a stroll?”

“You never know where cop work’s going to take you.”

“Obviously. Hello, Peabody. Recovered this morning?”

“Barely. It was a hell of a party.”

“Give us a minute, will you?” Eve asked her.

“Sure. I’ll go talk to people, and get those discs.”

When they were alone, Eve gave her vehicle’s tire a little boot. “How did this get here?”

“A bit of sleight of hand. I assumed you’d want your own.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“I contacted Mira, let her know what was going on and that you’d be tied up for a while.”

“Mira? Oh, right, right.” She shoved a hand through her hair. “Forgot. Thanks. What do I owe you?”

“We’ll negotiate.”

“I’ve got to ask you for one more. I need you to come down, make an official statement regarding your conversation with the victim on Friday at your office.”

Something sizzled in his eyes. “Am I on your short list, Lieutenant?”

“Don’t pull that. Don’t.” She drew a breath in, slowly. Released it, slowly. “Another investigator catches this, we’re both on the short list until we clear it up. We both had motive to cause her pain, and someone caused her plenty. We’re out regarding the murder. Can’t kill someone in Midtown when you’re partying with the chief of police in another part of town. Still, we’ve both got connections, and the wherewithal to hire somebody to do it.”

“And we’re both smart enough to have hired someone who wouldn’t be quite so obvious and sloppy.”

“Maybe, but sometimes obvious and sloppy is purposeful. Added to it, somebody busted up her face earlier. We need to cover that, too.”

“So, you don’t think I murdered her, but as for beating her up—”

“Stop it.” She jabbed a finger into his chest. “Hitting me with this attitude isn’t helping.”

“Which attitude would you prefer I hit you with? I have several available.”

“Goddamn it, Roarke.”

“All right, all right.” He waved a hand in dismissal. “It just pisses me off, having my wife interview me over assault.”

“Well, cheer up, I won’t be. Peabody’ll handle it.”

“Won’t that be delightful?” He took her arms, turned her so they were toe-to-toe and eye-to-eye. “I want you to tell me—I want you to look at me and tell me, right