Part 4 (1/2)
”You'd known Peach a couple months?” I asked.
”Yeah. We met at club on Sunset. I was drawn to her immediately. She was just so sweet.”
That seemed to be the consensus. On the other hand, sweet people usually didn't have the kind of enemies that stabbed them to death.
”You had a good relations.h.i.+p?”
”The best!”
”So good you were going to propose, right?” Dana asked.
Vic blinked at her, shock registering clearly on his face. ”Propose? G.o.d, where did you hear that?”
”So, you weren't going to ask her to marry you?” I clarified.
”No. G.o.d, no. I mean, don't get me wrong, I totally dug Peach. But we'd only been dating a couple months. No way were we ready to get married.”
”Peach thought you were,” Dana said. ”She thought you were going to pop the question soon.”
Vic shook his head. ”Why on earth would she think that?'
I cleared my throat. ”Uha apparently she found a ring box in your sock drawer.”
Vic did some more blinking, then sat back in his chair. ”It was an earring box. I bought her earrings for Valentine's Day. Geeze, she really thought I was going to propose?”
Dana leaned in and whispered to me, ”I knew no man could propose in two months!”
I ignored her, instead asking Vic, ”The morning Peach dieda where were you?”
”Home, I guess.”
”Alone?”
”Yeah. I telecommute. Why?”
I shrugged. ”No reason. Just checking.”
We thanked the still shocked Vic for his time, told him again how very sorry we were for his loss, and left.
”So,” I said when we got back to the car, ”we have a boyfriend who isn't proposing, a roommate who isn't being kicked out, and a business partner who isn't losing money.”
”And a victim everyone described as super sweet,” Dana said.
I turned to her. ”Did you think she was sweet?'
Dana bit her lip. Then nodded. ”Yeah. She really was. I can't imagine anyone wanting to hurt her.”
Which left us back at square one. This was proving to be a much harder Valentine's anniversary present than I'd thought.
Chapter Four.
Dana had to meet Ricky for a ”thing in the Hills”, so I dropped her off at her place. She gave me a hug goodbye along with a reminder that tomorrow was the Viewer's Choice Awards, and we had 9 AM appointments at Fernando's for our hair. I promised I'd meet her there, then headed home myself. On the off chance that Ramirez might come home for food and a nap again tonight, I decided to have a nice home-cooked meal ready for him. Taking stock of the ingredients I had on hand, then searching through AllRecipes.com's database, I came up with pot roast. I chopped, spiced, boiled, and simmered all afternoon, and by the time I heard Ramirez's key in the lock, I had to admit, it smelled pretty good in there.
”Hey,” he said, throwing his keys on the kitchen counter. ”What smells so good?”
”I made pot roast,” I said, beaming with domestic G.o.ddess pride.
He raised an eyebrow. ”You made it?”
I swatted him with a dishtowel. ”Watch it, buster.”
He grinned. ”All right, I give in. Hand me a plate. But, I have to make it quick. I gotta get back down town in an hour.”
”That's it? All you get is an hour?” I asked, doing my best to hide my disappointment as I dished him up a serving.
”ME's report came in on Peach. We need to get back to the CSU lab.”
”Why?' I asked, my ear perking up. ”What was in the report?”
”Lots.”
”Very funny. Care to elaborate?”
”Well, guess how she died,” he said, leaning back on his heels, a small smirk of I-know-something-you-don't-know playing on his lips.
”Um, stabbing? Or bleeding out or whatever you guys call that,” I guessed, stating the obvious.
He shook his head. ”Nope. Turns out the stabbings were post mortem.”
I frowned. ”Wait a” post? That means she was already dead?”
”Yep.”
”Why would someone stab her if she was already dead?”
Ramirez shrugged. ”That's a great question. Could be they didn't know she was dead. Or maybe they were trying to make the murder look like something it wasn't. Could be they were even trying to get rid of evidence by confusing the crime scene. Hard to tell at this point.”
I pondered this. Dana and I had been going on the theory that the murder was personal based on the stabbing. But if Peach had been killed another way, maybe someone was trying to make it look like it was more personal than it really was. Which begged the questiona ”So, how did she really die?” I asked.
”Asphyxiation.”
”She was strangled?”
”Or suffocated. We didn't find any obvious ligature marks on her neck, but the ME did say she had the telltale petechial hemorrhaging around the eyes that indicated lack of oxygen.”
”So, someone suffocates Peach, then stabs her multiple times?” I shook my head. ”Kinda seems like overkill.”