Page 25 of Devoted in Death

“A cab. He’d have taken a cab.”

“Okay.” She made a note. “What do you know about Earnestina?”

“Ah.” Chamberlin let out a half laugh. “Pompous little twit. She interviewed me and some of the others—both orchestra and stage—for a paper she claimed to be writing. Earnest was a kind word. Pompous, as I said, overbearing, extreme. Dorian was kind to her, likely considered sleeping with her, but she caused a scene at that club he enjoyed. I don’t know the details as I wasn’t there, but she annoyed him. He would never have gone anywhere with her after that.”

“Do you have her full name?”

“Tina R. Denton. I remember it as she insisted on the full name—including initial.” He sat back, pressed his fingers to his eyes briefly. “Lieutenant, she was like a mosquito. A woman who buzzed around until you wanted to give her a good slap, but wasn’t capable of doing more than making you itch a little.”

“Every angle,” Eve reminded him. “Go back to Dorian’s mother now. When Dr. Morris has him ready, you’ll be contacted. If you think of anything else, any detail, I want to hear it.”

As she escorted him out, she saw a woman—early thirties, long blond hair yanked back in a tail, exposing a lovely face, a face splotchy from tears, and deep blue eyes swollen and red-rimmed.

She said, “Maestro,” in a voice that broke.

Chamberlin turned to her and, when she hesitated, held out his arms.

“Maestro,” she said again, flung herself at him to press her face into his chest. “Is it a terrible dream? Can you tell me it’s a terrible dream?”

“No. He’s gone, Ellysa.”

“How?” She reared back, grief and fury warring on her face. “No one will tell us how, no one will tell us why.”

“I will. Ellysa Tesh?”

“Yes. Who are you?”

“Lieutenant Dallas. We’ll talk in here.”

“Do you want me to stay with you?” Chamberlin asked.

“It’s best if I speak with Ms. Tesh alone. In here,” Eve repeated, and opened the door to Interview A.

“I’ll be all right. Mina?”

“I’m going to her now.”

“Should I come? When I can? Should we come?”

“Not now. Let me see, and perhaps tomorrow.” He laid his lips on her brow. “Perhaps tomorrow.”

Once she’d taken Ellysa in, reengaged the recorder, read off the Revised Miranda, Ellysa pushed her hands in the air as if shoving all that aside.

“I don’t care about my rights or your recording. What happened to Dorian?”

“You’re here to answer questions. Let’s start with that. When did you last see or speak with Dorian?”

“At the performance, the night he went missing. What happened to—”

“Where did you go after the performance?”

“Oh for God’s sake. I went with Theo and Hanna and Samuel. We cabbed downtown to a club. After Midnight. Dorian went ahead of us, but he wasn’t there. I wanted to go with him, but... I got hung up.”

“Hung up?”

“My mother. She lives in Austin, and she tagged me up right after the performance. My sister got engaged. My mother was so excited, and I got hung talking with her, and didn’t catch up to Dorian in time to tell him I’d go with him. If I had... If I had.”

Her eyes filled again, tears shimmering on the edge. “We must have been close to an hour behind him. Hanna had to change out of her costume, and take off her stage makeup. At least thirty or forty minutes behind him, I don’t know. But he wasn’t there, and Stewie said he hadn’t come in.”