"By who?"

"Partially by me. We've known each other for a number of years. And no," he added, dipping his hands in his pockets again, "I've never slept with her."

"I didn't ask that."

"Yes, you did."

"Okay, if I did, we'll have the follow-up. Why haven't you slept with her?"

A faint smile lifted his mouth. "Initially because she was married. Then, when she wasn't…" He ran a fingertip along the dent in Eve's chin. "I was. My wife doesn't like me to sleep with other women. She's very strict about it."

"I'll make a note of that." She considered her options, juggled them. "You know a lot of these people, or have impressions of them anyway. I'm going to want to talk to you later." She sighed. "On the record."

"Of course. Is it possible this was an accident?"

"Anything's possible. I need to examine the knife, and I can't touch the fucker until Peabody gets here. Why don't you go back there, do a pat and stroke on your people? And keep your ears open."

"Are you asking me to assist in an official police investigation?"

"No, I am not." And despite the circumstances, her lips wanted to quiver. "I just said keep your ears open." She tapped a finger on his chest. "And stay out of my way. I'm on duty."

She turned away as she heard the hard clop of what could only be police-issue shoes.

Peabody 's were shined to a painful gleam Eve could spot across the length of the stage. Her winter-weight uniform coat was buttoned to the throat of a sturdy body. Her cap sat precisely at the correct angle atop her dark, straight hair.

They crossed the stage from opposite ends, met at the body. "Hi, Dr. Mira." Peabody glanced down at the body, pursed her lips. "Looks like a hell of an opening night."

Eve held out a hand for her field kit. "Record on, Peabody."