Ceremony in Death (11 page)

She took instruments out of her kit to calibrate. “The throat wound is six and a quarter inches across, approximately two inches deep.” Quickly, competently, she measured and recorded the other wounds. “A knife, black-handled with carving, was left in the body in the groin area to anchor what appears to be a computer-generated note on treated paper.”

She heard the shrill sound of sirens coming closer. “Uniforms,” she told Roarke. “They’ll secure the scene. Not much traffic out this way at this time of night.”

“Fortunately.”

“The body has been strapped by leather strips to a wooden structure, pentagram shape. The small amount of blood and blood patterns indicate victim was killed and mutilated elsewhere and transported to scene. Perimeter security to be scanned. Possibility of breech onto private property beyond security gate and wall. Body discovered at approximately four-thirty a.m. by Lieutenant Eve Dallas and Roarke, residents.”

She turned and walked over as the first black-and-white screeched up to the curb. “I want a privacy screen employed. Now. Block off the street in a twenty-foot perimeter. I don’t want gawkers here. I don’t want the fucking media. Got it?”

“Sir.” The two uniforms hustled out of the car and to the trunk. They wrestled out the privacy screen.

“I’m going to be awhile,” she told Roarke. Taking the recorder from him, she passed it to another uniform. “You should go inside, keep an eye on the kid.” Wearily, she watched the cruiser cops erect the screen. “He should call his mother or something. But I don’t want him to leave until I talk to him again.”

“I’ll take care of it. I’ll cancel my appointments for the day. I’ll be available.”

“That would be best.” She started to touch him, wanted to badly, then realized her sealed hands were smeared with blood and dropped them again. “It would help if you kept him occupied, kept his mind off of it for now. Goddamn it, Roarke, this bites.”

“A ritual killing,” he murmured, and understanding, laid a hand on her cheek. “But which side did it?”

“I guess I’m going to be spending a lot of time interviewing witches.” She huffed out a breath, then frowned when she saw Peabody striding double-time down the street. “Where the hell’s your vehicle, Officer?”

Her uniform might have been pressed to within an inch of its life, but her face was flushed and her breathing short. “I don’t have a vehicle, Lieutenant. I use city transpo. The closest public stop is four blocks from here.” She slanted a look at Roarke as though it was his personal responsibility. “Rich people don’t use public transportation.”

“Well, requisition a damn vehicle,” Eve ordered. “We’ll be in as soon as we’re done out here,” she told Roarke, then turned away. “Body’s behind the screen. Get the recorder from the uniform, I don’t trust his eye, and his hands are shaking. I want measurements on the blood pool and stills of the wounds, all angles. Seal up. I don’t think the sweepers are going to find much here, but I don’t want anything compromised. I’ll do the prelim for time of death. The ME’s on the way.”

Roarke watched her march off, flip through the screen, and figured she was finished with him.

Inside the house, he found Jamie, guarded by a visibly irritated Summerset. “You will not be allowed free range of this house,” Summerset snapped out. “You will touch nothing. If you break one piece of crockery, soil one centimeter of fabric, I will resort to violence.”

Jamie continued to pace, continued to paw the statuary in the small — and as Summerset thought of it lesser — parlor. “Well, now I’m shaking. You really put the fear of God in me, old man.”

“Your manners continue to disintegrate,” Roarke commented as he stepped into the room. “Someone should have taught you to show some respect for your elders.”

“Yeah, well, someone should have taught your guard dog to be polite to guests.”

“Guests don’t tamper with security systems, climb over walls, and skulk around private property. You are not a guest.”

Jamie deflated. It was tough to stand up under those cool blue eyes. “I wanted to see the Lieutenant. I didn’t want anyone to know.”

“Next time, try using the ‘link,” Roarke suggested. “It’s all right, Summerset, I’ll deal with this.”

“As you wish.” Summerset shot Jamie one last withering look, then stalked, stiff-backed, out of the room.

“Where’d you find Count Boredom?” Jamie asked and slumped into a chair. “The morgue?”

Roarke sat on the arm of a sofa, took out a cigarette. “Summerset can eat runts like you for breakfast,” he said mildly and flicked on his lighter. “I’ve seen him.”

“Right.” Still Jamie sent a cautious look toward the doorway. Nothing in this house was what he’d expected, so he wouldn’t underestimate the butler. “Speaking of breakfast, you got anything to eat around here? It’s been like hours since I had anything.”

Roarke blew out smoke. “You want me to feed you now?”

“Well, you know. We got to hang anyway. Might as well eat.”

Cheeky little bastard, Roarke thought, not without admiration. Only youth, he supposed, could have an appetite after seeing what was outside the wall. “And what did you have in mind? Crepes, an omelette, perhaps a few bowls of sugar-soaked cereal?”

“I was thinking more of pizza, maybe a burger.” He fixed on a winning smile. “My mom’s a real nutrition fanatic. We only get health shit at home.”

“It’s five in the morning, and you want pizza?”

“Pizza goes down smooth anytime.”

“You may be right.” And he thought he could use something, himself, after all. “Let’s go then.”

“It’s like a museum in here,” Jamie said as he followed Roarke into the hall with its luminous paintings and gleaming antiques. “I mean, in a good way. You must be rolling in it.”

“I must be.”

“People say you just touch something and the credits fly out.”

“Do they?”

“Yeah, and you didn’t make all of it exactly on the upside, you know? But being hooked up with a cop like Dallas, you’d have to be straight.”

“One would think,” Roarke murmured and swung through a door into a huge kitchen.

“Wow. Ultimate. You got people who, like, cook things — by hand and stuff?”

“It’s been known to happen.” Roarke watched the boy prowl, toy with controls on the compu-range, the subzero refrigerator. “It’s not going to happen this morning.” He walked to a large AutoChef. “What is it then, pizza or burger?”

Jamie grinned. “Both? I could probably drink a gallon of Pepsi.”

“We’ll start with a tube.” Roarke programmed the AutoChef, then went to the refrigerator himself. “Sit down, Jamie.”

“Frigid.” But he kept his eye on Roarke as he slid onto the padded bench of a breakfast nook.

After a short debate, Roarke punched in for two tubes, slipped them out of the door slot when they slid down. “You’ll want to contact your mother,” he said. “You can use the ‘link there.”

“No.” Jamie put his hands under the table, rubbed them on his jeans. “She’s zoned. She can’t handle it. Alice. She’s tranqued out. We — the viewing’s tonight.”

“I see.” And because he did, Roarke let it drop. He handed the drink to Jamie, then took a large bubbling pizza from the AutoChef. He set it, then the burger that followed, on the table.

“Rocking A.” With the appetite of the young, Jamie grabbed the burger and bit in. “Man! Man, it’s meat,” he said with his mouth full. “It’s meat.”

It took a master not to let his mouth twitch. “You’d prefer soy?” Roarke asked politely. “Veggie?”

“No way.” Jamie wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, grinned. “Really decent. Thanks.”

Roarke got two plates and a slicer. He went to work on the pizza. “I suppose breaking and entering stimulates the appetite.”

“I’m always hungry.” Without shame, Jamie transferred the first slice to his plate. “Mom says it’s growing pains, but I just like to eat. She’s real worried about junk intake, so I’ve got to sneak real food in. You know how moms are.”

“No, actually, I don’t. I’ll take your word.” And because he’d never been quite as young as Jamie. or quite as innocent, he took a slice for himself and prepared to enjoy watching the boy devour the rest.

“Parents are okay.” Jamie shrugged, alternating between the pizza and the burger. “I don’t see my father — not in a few years. He’s got a life over in Europe, the Morningside Community outside London.”

“Structured, programmed residential,” Roarke put in. “Very tidy.”

“Yeah, and very boring. Even the grass is programmed. He digs on it, though, him and his foxy new wife — his third already.” He jerked a shoulder, sucked on the Pepsi. “He isn’t much on the father game. It bothered Alice a lot. Me, I can take it or leave it.”

No, Roarke thought, he didn’t think so. Wounds were there. Odd what deep and permanent injury a parent could cause a child. “Your mother hasn’t married again?”

“Nah. She’s not into it. She was bummed pretty bad when he took off. I was six. I’m sixteen now, and she still thinks I’m a kid. I had to nag for weeks to get her to let me go for my vehicle license. She’s okay really. She’s just…” He trailed off, stared down at his plate as if he wondered how food had gotten there. “She doesn’t deserve this. She does the best she can. She doesn’t deserve this. She loved Grandpa. They were really tight. And now Alice. Alice was really weird, but she…”

“She was your sister,” Roarke said quietly. “You loved her.”

“It shouldn’t have happened to her.” He lifted his gaze slowly, met Roarke’s with a kind of terrifying fury. “When I find them, the one who hurt her, I’m going to kill them.”

“You want to be careful what you say, Jamie.” Eve stepped in. Her eyes were shadowed, her face pale with fatigue. Though she’d been careful, there were a few smears of blood on her jeans. “And you want to put away any thoughts of revenge and leave investigation to the cops.”

“They killed my sister.”

“It hasn’t been determined that your sister was a victim of homicide.” Eve headed to the AutoChef, programmed coffee. “And you’re in enough trouble,” she added before he could speak, “without hassling me.”

“Be smart,” Roarke said when Jamie opened his mouth again. “Be quiet.”

Peabody stood in the humming silence. She studied the boy, felt a little tug. She had a brother his age. With this in mind, she slapped on a smile. “Pizza for breakfast,” she said with determined cheer. “Got more?”

“Help yourself,” Roarke invited and patted the bench beside him in invitation. “Jamie, this is Officer Peabody.”

“My grandfather knew you.” Jamie studied her with cautious, appraising eyes.

“Did he?” Peabody picked up a slice. “I don’t think I ever met him. I knew about him, though. Everybody at Central was sorry when he died.”

“He knew about you. He told me Dallas was molding you.”

“Peabody’s a cop,” Eve broke in, “not a lump of clay.” Annoyed, she picked up the last slice of pizza, bit in. “This is cold.”

“It’s great cold.” Peabody winked at Jamie. “Nothing better than cold pizza for breakfast.”

“Eat while you can.” Respecting her own advice, Eve took another bite. “It’s going to be a long day.” She pinned Jamie with a glance. “Starting now. Until you have a guardian or representative present, I can’t record your statement or officially question you. Do you understand?”

“I’m not an idiot. And I’m not a child. I can — “

“You can be quiet,” Eve interrupted. “With or without representation, I can toss you into juvenile lockup for trespassing. If Roarke chooses to press charges — ”

“Eve, really — “

“You be quiet, too.” She rounded on him, all frustration and fatigue. “This isn’t a game, it’s murder. And the media is already outside, sniffing blood. You’re not going to be able to step outside your own house without having them jump you.”

“Do you think that disturbs me?”

“It disturbs me. It damn well disturbs the hell out of me. My job doesn’t come here. It doesn’t come here.” She stopped herself, turned away.

This, she realized abruptly, was what ate at her insides, chewed at her control. There was blood on her home, and she had brought it there.

Steadier, she turned back. “That’s all beside the point for now. You have some explaining to do,” she said to Jamie. “Do you want to do it here or down at Central after I contact your mother?”

He didn’t speak for a moment, just watched her as if measuring. It was, she realized, the same look that had been in his eyes when she had told him his sister was dead. It was very adult, very controlled.

“I know who the dead guy is. His name is Lobar, and he’s one of the bastards who killed my sister. I saw him.”

CHAPTER NINE

Jamie’s eyes were fierce, furious. Eve kept hers on his as she laid her palms on the table and leaned forward. “Are you telling me that you saw Lobar kill your sister?”

Jamie’s mouth worked as if he was chewing the words, and the words were bitter. “No. But I know. I know he was one of them. I saw him with her. I saw all of them.” His chin wobbled and his voice cracked, reminding her he was only sixteen. But his eyes stayed ageless. “I got in one night. In that apartment downtown.”

“What apartment?”

“Spooky Selina and Asshole Alban.” He shrugged a shoulder, but the movement was more nervous than cocky. “I watched one of their devil shows.” His hand wasn’t quite steady as he picked up his drink and sucked down the last of the Pepsi.

“They let you observe a ceremony?”

“They didn’t let me do anything. They didn’t know I was there. You could say I let myself in.” He glanced at Roarke. “Their security isn’t nearly as jazzy as yours.”

“There’s good news.”

“You’ve been a busy boy, Jamie,” Eve said evenly. “Planning on cat burglary as a career?”

“No.” He didn’t smile. “I’m going to be a cop. Like you.”

Eve blew out a breath, scrubbed her hands over her face, and sat. “Cops who make a habit of illegal entry end up on the wrong side of a cage.”

“They had my sister.”

“Were they holding her against her will?”

“They messed with her mind. That’s the same thing.”

Touchy area, Eve mused. She couldn’t go back and stop the kid from breaking into private property. His grandfather had been a solid cop, she remembered, and had tried to do the same. The boy had simply succeeded.

“I’m going to do you a favor because I liked your grandfather. We’re going to keep this off the record. As far as the record goes, you were never there. Never inside that place. You got that?”

“Sure.” He jerked a shoulder. “Whatever.”

“Tell me what you saw. Don’t exaggerate, don’t speculate.”

Jamie’s lips curved a little. “Grandpa always said that.”

“That’s right. You want to be a cop, give me a report.”

“Okay. Cool. Alice was in Weird City, right? She’d been cutting classes, making noises about dropping out. Mom was really wrecked over it. She thought it was a guy, but I knew it wasn’t. Not that she was talking to me. She’d stopped talking to me.”

He broke off then, his eyes dark and miserable. Then he shook his head, sighed once, and continued. “But I knew her. Alice would get all moony over a guy, dreamy-eyed and spastic. But with this, she was different. I figured she’d started experimenting. Illegals. I know my mom had talked to my grandfather, and he’d talked to Alice, but nobody was getting anywhere. So I figured I’d check it out. I followed her a couple times. I thought it would be good practice. Surveillance. She never tagged me. None of them did. A lot of people don’t see kids, or if they do, they think they’re harmless idiots.”

Eve kept her eyes hard on his face. “I don’t think you’re harmless, Jamie.”

His lips twisted in a smirk. He recognized that Eve’s statement wasn’t exactly flattering. “So I tailed her to that club. The Athame. First time I had to wait outside. I wasn’t prepped for it. She went in about ten, came out about twelve, with the ghoul patrol.”

He smirked again when Eve lifted a brow. “Okay, subject exited premises in the company of three individuals, two male, one female. You already got their descriptions, so I’ll say they were later identified by investigator as Selina Cross, Alban, and Lobar. They proceeded east, on foot, then entered multiunit housing structure owned by Selina Cross. Investigator observed light go on in top window. After weighing the options, investigator decided to enter building. Security was bypassed with minimal to average effort. Can I have another Pepsi?”

Saying nothing, Roarke took the empty tube, slipped it into the recycling slot, and fetched the boy another.

“It was really quiet inside,” Jamie continued as he broke the seal. “Like dead. Dark. I had a minilight, but I didn’t use it. I got upstairs, bypassed the palm plate and the cameras. The locks weren’t that tricky. I figure they didn’t think anybody’d have the nerve to come that far without an invite, you know? I got inside and the place was empty. I couldn’t figure it. I’d seen them go in, I’d seen the light, but the place was empty. So I poked around. They’ve got some screwy stuff in there. And it smelled… off. Sorta like the incense and junk in a Free-Agers’ shop, but different. Just off. I was in one of the bedrooms. There’s this wild statue in there. This guy with a pig head and a man’s body with a really monster cock at full alert.”

He stopped, flushed a little as he remembered he was talking to females as well as cops. “Sorry.”

“I’ve seen cocks at full alert before,” Eve said mildly. “Go on.”

“Okay. So I was just sort of looking at it, and this guy comes in. I thought, Shit, I’m busted, but he didn’t see me. He got something out of a drawer, turned around, and walked out. Never even looked my way.” Jamie shook his head, sipped deeply, as he re-experienced the bowel-liquefying fear. “I got to the doorway just as he was going through the wall. Secret panel,” he explained with a quick grin. “I thought they were only in old videos. I gave it a couple of minutes and went in after him.”

At this, Eve simply pressed her hands to her face, digging her fingers into the knots. “You went in after him.”

“Yeah, my luck was holding pretty good. There’s this stairway, narrow. I think it was stone. I could hear music. Not really music, more like voices, sort of humming. And that off smell was stronger. The stairway turns and there’s this room. About half the size of this one, with mirrored walls. Lots of candles and more horny statues. It’s smoky. Something’s in the smoke, because it makes me lightheaded. I try to be careful not to breathe too much in.”

He stared down at the drink in his hand. This part was hard, he realized. Harder than he’d thought it would be. “There’s this raised platform, all this carving. Some sort of words, I think, but I can’t make it out. Alice is lying on it. She’s naked. The three of them are standing over her saying something. Singing it, I guess, but I can’t understand them. They’re doing things to her, to each other.”

He had to swallow again. His face was bone white with high, red blotches on the cheeks. “They’ve got like sex toys and she’s… letting them. Both of them. And she lets them, she lets them do her while that Cross bitch watches. Alice just lets them…”

Without realizing it, Eve reached out, took his hand, let him grip her fingers hard enough to rub bone.

“I couldn’t stay there. I was sick, seeing that, and the smoke, the sounds. I had to get out.” His eyes were wet now as he looked up. “She wouldn’t have let them do that if they hadn’t messed with her mind. She wasn’t a slut. She wasn’t.”

“I know. Did you tell anyone?”

“I couldn’t.” He swiped the back of one hand over his face. “It would’ve killed my mom. I wanted to hit Alice with it, hit her hard with it. I was so pissed off. But I couldn’t. I was embarrassed I’d seen her like that, I guess. My sister.”

“It’s all right.”

“I went back to the club a couple nights later and got in.”

“They let you inside?”

“I got fake ID. Places like that, they don’t care if you look twelve if you got ID that says different. Security’s tighter there. They’ve got scanners, electronic and human, every damn where. I spotted Alice with that Lobar creep. They went upstairs, all the way up to the fancy level. I couldn’t get in, but I got close enough to see they’d disappeared again. So I figure there must be a room up there, too. Like the one in the apartment. I was working out a way to get in after hours, then Alice ditched them. She moved in with that Isis character for awhile, got her own place and that job. And she didn’t go to the club anymore, or back to the apartment.”

He let out a sigh. “I thought she’d straightened herself out, that it had gotten through what creeps they were. She talked to me a little.”

“Did she tell you about the people she’d been involved with?”

“Not really. She just said she’d made a mistake, a terrible one. That she was like, atoning, cleansing, that zip brain stuff of hers. I knew she was scared, but she talked to my grandfather, so I figured things would be mellow again. Did they kill him, too?”

“There’s no evidence of that. I’m not going to discuss it with you,” she added when he lifted his haunted eyes to hers. “And you’re not to discuss this with anyone. You’re not to go near that club or that apartment again. If you do and I find out — and I will find out — I’ll slap a security bracelet on you and you won’t be able to burp without a scanner picking it up.”

“It’s my family.”

“Yes, it is. And if you want to be a cop, you’d better learn that if you can’t be objective, you can’t do the job.”

“My grandfather wouldn’t have been objective,” Jamie said quietly. “And now he’s dead.”

She had no answer for that, so she rose. “Now the problem is getting you out of here and keeping your involvement out of the media. They’ll be watching the gate.”

“There’s always an alternative,” Roarke commented. “I’ll arrange it.”

She had no doubt he could, and nodded. “I’ve got to change, get down to Central. Peabody.” She flicked a meaningful look in Jamie’s direction. “Stand by.”

“Yes, sir.”

“She means guard dog me,” Jamie muttered as Eve and Roarke left the kitchen.

“Yeah.” But Peabody flashed a companionable smile. “Want another Pepsi?”

“I guess.”

She got up to play with the delivery slot on the fridge, helped herself to a cup of Roarke’s magnificent coffee. “So how long have you wanted to be a cop?”

“For as long as I remember.”

“Me, too.” She settled down to talk shop.

“I’ll take him out by air,” Roarke told her as he and Eve cleaned up and changed in the bedroom.

“By air?”

“I’ve been meaning to take the minichopper out for a spin, anyway.”

“This area isn’t zoned for personal choppers.”

Wisely, he disguised a laugh with a cough. “Say that again when you’re wearing your badge.”

She muttered to herself and pulled on a clean shirt. “Take him home, will you? I appreciate it. The kid’s lucky to be alive.”

“He’s resourceful, bright, focused.” Roarke smiled as he picked up the jammer, admired it. “Now, if I’d had one of these at his age… ah, the possibilities.”

“You do well enough with your magic fingers.”

“True.” He tucked the jammer in his pocket. He was going to have one of his engineers analyze and very possibly reproduce it. “I’m afraid youth today doesn’t appreciate the satisfaction of hands on. If young Jamie changes his mind about law enforcement, I think I could find a nice slot for him in my little world.”

“Don’t even mention it. You’ll corrupt him.”

Roarke picked up his slim gold wrist unit, fastened it on. “You did very well with him. Firm without being cold. A nice, authoritative, yet maternal style.”

She blinked. “Huh?”

“You’re good with children.” He grinned as she paled. “I’d wondered.”

“Get a grip. A good strong grip,” she advised and strapped on her weapon harness. “I’m going to hit Central first, file my report, feed Whitney the data that’s not going into it. Officially, Jamie’s name isn’t going to be linked with this. I’m sure, if necessary, the two of you can work out a plausible story for his mother.”

“Child’s play,” Roarke said with tongue in cheek.

“Hmm. From my prelim, Lobar was killed at oh three thirty. That would be about an hour after we left the club. Hard to tell how long he’d been propped outside the gate, but at a guess, no more than fifteen minutes or so before Jamie happened on him. It’s not likely that whoever left Lobar hanging, let’s say, stuck around. But if they did, and spotted Jamie, he could be a target. I want the kid under surveillance, and until Whitney uncuffs me, I can’t use a cop.”

“Would you like me to put one of my trusted employees on him?”

“No, but that’s what I’m going to ask you to do.” She turned to the mirror, raked fingers through her hair in lieu of a comb. “I’m bringing this home, too many angles of it. I’m sorry.”

He walked to her, turned her around, caught her face in his hands. “You can’t separate what you do from who you are. I don’t expect or want you to. What touches you, touches me. That’s what I expect and what I want.”

“The last case that touched me almost killed you.” She wrapped her hands around his wrist, squeezed. “I need you too much. It’s your own fault.”

“Exactly.” He bent down, kissed her. “That’s what I want as well. Go to work, Lieutenant.”

“I’m going.” She strode to the door, paused, glanced back. “I don’t want to hear from Traffic that my husband was hotdogging the skyways in his minichopper.”

“You won’t. I bribe too well.”

It made her laugh as she headed back down to fetch Peabody and face the first media onslaught.

She’d no more than strapped into her vehicle when she heard the throaty purr of an expensive engine. Wincing only a little, she glanced east and saw the sleek little copter with its tinted one-way glass cabin and whirling silver blades rise, circle playfully — and illegally — before bulleting off.

“Wow! What a machine. Is that Roarke’s? Have you been up?” Peabody craned her head to try to get a last look. “That is one rapid mother.”

“Shut up, Peabody.”

“I’ve never been up in a personal.” With a wistful sigh, Peabody settled. “Makes the units Traffic use look like dog meat.”

“You used to be intimidated when I told you to shut up.”

“Those were the good old days.” Grinning, Peabody crossed her ankles. “You handled the kid really well, Lieutenant.”

Eve rolled her eyes. “I know how to interview a cooperative witness, Peabody.”

“Not everybody can handle a teenager. They’re brutal, and fragile. That one’s seen more than anyone should.”

“I know.” So had she by that age, Eve remembered. Perhaps that’s why she’d understood. “Prepare yourself, Peabody. The sharks are circling.”

Peabody grimaced at the pack of reporters crowded outside the gate. There were minicams, recorders, and hungry looks. “Gee, I hope they get my best side.”