Ceremony in Death (5 page)

Christ, Eve thought, where were they going with this? “A bird?”

Alice laid her trembling hands on the table. “She’s a shape-shifter. She takes what form she wills. I’ve protected myself as best I can, but my faith may not be strong enough. They’re pulling at me, calling to me.”

“Alice.” While sympathy remained, Eve found her patience waning. “Selina Cross might have had a part in your grandfather’s death. If we find that he didn’t die of natural causes, it wasn’t some spell; it was calculated, simple murder. If so, there’ll be evidence, and a trial, and she’ll be dealt with.”

“You can’t find smoke.” Alice shook her head. “You won’t find evidence in a curse.”

Enough was enough. “At this point, you’re a witness to a crime. Potentially the only witness, and if you’re afraid, I can arrange a safe house for you.” Her voice was flat and brisk, all cop. “I need you to give me a description of the child so that I can check missing persons. With your formal statement, I can get a warrant to search the room where you allegedly witnessed the murder. I need you to give me details, straight details. Times, places, names. I can help you.”

“You don’t understand,” Alice said, shaking her head slowly. “You don’t believe me.”

“I believe you’re an intelligent and curious woman who got in over her head with some very nasty people. And I believe you’re confused and upset. I have someone you can talk to who can help you sort things out.”

“Someone?” Alice’s eyes went cold and her voice hard. “A psychiatrist? You think I’m imagining things, making them up.” Her body trembled as she surged to her feet. “It’s not my mind that’s in danger, it’s my life. My life, Lieutenant Dallas, and my soul. If you find yourself in battle with Selina, you’ll believe. And may the goddess help you.”

She whirled and ran out, leaving Eve cursing.

“That seemed remarkably unsuccessful,” Roarke commented as he came up behind her.

“The girl’s whacked out, but she’s terrified.” Eve heaved a long breath and rose. “Let’s get the hell out of here.” She signaled Peabody, then headed for the door.

Outside, a thin fog crept along the ground, stealthily, like twining gray snakes. Rain, thin and chilly, was just beginning to slick the street.

“There she is,” Eve murmured when she caught sight of Alice rushing around the corner. “Headed south. Peabody, tail her, make sure she gets home safe.”

“Got her.” Peabody headed off at a half trot.

“That kid’s a mess, Roarke. They’ve fucked with her in every way possible.” Disgusted, she dug her hands into her pockets. “I probably could’ve handled it better, but I don’t see how it would help to encourage her delusions. Spells and curses and shape shifters. Jesus.”

“Darling Eve.” He kissed her brow. “My own practical cop.”

“The way she tells it, she was practically the bride of Satan.” Grumbling, Eve started for the car, turned on her heel, and paced back. “I’ll tell you how it went, Roarke. She wanted to play, wanted to dabble in the occult, and she ran into real bad news. She’s a naive, pretty girl, and it doesn’t take a crystal ball to see it. So she went to one of their meetings, or whatever the hell you call them, and they drugged her. Then they gang-raped her. Bastards. She’s drugged and in shock and vulnerable to suggestions, and it’s easy for a couple of professional cons to convince her she’s part of their cult. Pull a couple of magic tricks out of their hat and fascinate her. Use sex to keep her in line.”

“She got to you,” Roarke murmured and touched her hair, brushing away the wet.

“Maybe she did. Damn it, did you look at her? She’s well-named. Looks like that kid in the fairy story. Probably believes in talking rabbits, too.” Then she sighed, struggled to put her emotions back into place. “But we’re not in a fairy story here. She claims she walked in on a ritual murder. A little boy, she said. I’ve got to get her in to Mira. A shrink will be able to sort out the fact from fiction. But I believe that murder was fact, and if they killed one child, they’ve killed more. People like them prey on the helpless.”

“I know.” He reached out to rub the tension in her shoulders. “Close to home?”

“No. It’s not like what happened to me. Or you.” But there were enough echoes to unnerve her. “We’re still here, aren’t we?” She laid a hand on his but frowned into the shadows. “Why didn’t Frank make a log of what she’d told him? Why the hell did he go solo on this?”

“Maybe he did make a log. A private one.”

She blinked, stared at him. “God, how could I be so slow!” She clapped her hands on either side of his face and kissed him hard. “You’re brilliant.”

“Yes, I know.” He jerked her back as a figure darted out of the shadows and over the ramp. “Black cat,” he said, simultaneously uneasy and amused at himself. “Bad luck.”

“Yeah, right.” She started up the ramp, cocked her head as the cat sat at the side of Roarke’s car, watching her out of bright and glittering green eyes. “You don’t look hungry, ace. Too sleek and glossy for an alley cat. Too perfect,” she realized. “Must be a droid.” Still, she crouched, reached out to stroke. The cat hissed, arched, and swiped. Eve would have found her palm laid open if she hadn’t been quick enough to dodge. “Well, that’s friendly.”

“You should know better than to offer your hand to strange animals — or droids.” But he stepped in front of Eve to uncode the car and kept his eyes on the gleaming green of the cat’s. When Eve was in the car, he spoke softly. The cat’s fur bristled, its tail switched, then it leaped nimbly from the ramp to the street, and it was swallowed by the fog.

Roarke couldn’t have said why he’d given the order to go in Gaelic. It had simply come out that way. He was still pondering it when he slid in beside Eve.

“Listen, Roarke, I can’t tap Feeney for any E-work on this. At least not until the commander loosens up. I may have to go to the family for access to Frank’s personal records, but if I do that, I’ll have to tell them something.”

“And you’d rather not.”

“Not yet, in any case. So how do you feel about using your… skills to access Frank’s personal unit and logs?”

His mood lifted as he started the car, guiding it down to street level. “That depends, Lieutenant. Do I get a badge?”

Her lips twitched into a smirk. “No. But you get to have sex with a cop.”

“Do I get to pick the cop?” He only smiled when she punched his arm. “I’d pick you. Probably. And I suppose you want me to begin my unofficial consultation tonight.”

“That’s the idea.”

“All right, but I want sex first.” He tucked his tongue in his cheek as she chuckled. “How long do you think Peabody’s going to be busy? Just joking,” he said quickly, but shifted into autodrive just in case Eve got violent. “She did look quite appealing tonight though.”

Laughing, he caught her fist in his hand, then snuck the other one up to her breast.

“Listen, pal, you’re in deep enough without trying that. Engaging in any sexual act in a moving vehicle is in violation of inner city codes.”

“Arrest me,” he suggested and nipped her bottom lip.

“I might. When I’m done with you.” She wiggled free and shoved him back. “And just for that smart-ass remark about my aide, no sex until after the consult.”

He disengaged auto, then slid her a slow, smiling glance. “Wanna bet?”

She met that arrogant glance narrow-eyed. “Fifty credits, even odds.”

“Done.” And he whistled his way through the iron gates that led home.

CHAPTER FOUR

“Pay up.”

Eve rolled over, rubbed her bare butt, and wondered if she’d have rug burns. Still vibrating from the last orgasm, she closed her eyes again. “Huh?”

“Fifty credits.” He leaned over, gently kissed the tip of her breast. “You lost, Lieutenant.”

Her eyes blinked open and stared into his gorgeous and very satisfied face. They were sprawled on the rug of his private room, and their clothes, as best she could recall, were scattered everywhere. Starting at the stairway where he’d trapped her against the wall and had started to… win the bet.

“I’m naked,” she pointed out. “I don’t generally keep credits up my — “

“I’m happy to take your IOU.” He rose, all graceful, gleaming muscles, and took a memo card from his console. “Here you are.” Handed it to her.

She stared down at it, knowing dignity was as lost as the fifty credits. “You’re really enjoying this.”

“Oh, more than you can possibly imagine.”

Scowling at him, she engaged the memo. “I owe you, Roarke, fifty credits, Dallas, Lieutenant Eve.” She shoved the memo at him. “Satisfied.”

“In every possible way.” He thought, sentimentally, that he would tuck the memo away with the little gray suit button he’d kept from their very first meeting. “I love you, Dallas, Lieutenant Eve, in every possible way.”

She couldn’t help it. She went soft all over. It was the way he said it, the way he looked at her that had rapid pulses beating under melting skin. “Oh, no, you don’t. That kind of thing’s how you took me for fifty.” She scrambled up before he could distract her again. “Where the hell are my pants?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea.” He walked to a section of the wall, touched a mechanism. When the panel slid open, he drew out a robe. It was silk and thin and made her eyes narrow again.

He was always buying her things like that, and they always seemed to find their way to various parts of the house. Conveniently.

“That’s not working attire.”

“We can do this naked, but you’d certainly lose another fifty.” When she snatched the robe out of his hand, he turned and took out another for himself. “This could take some time. We’ll want coffee.”

As she went to the AutoChef to get coffee, Roarke moved behind the console. The equipment here was first flight, and unregistered. CompuGuard couldn’t track it nor block him from hacking into any system. Still, even with those advantages, finding a personal log that may or may not have existed was like separating individual grains of sand from a bucketful.

“Engage,” he ordered. “More likely his home unit, wouldn’t you think?”

“Anything on his unit at Cop Central would have been transferred, and official units record all logging. If he wanted to keep something to himself, he’d have used a private system.”

“Do you have his home address? Never mind,” he said before Eve could speak. “I’ll get it. Data, Wojinski, Frank… what was his rank?”

“Detective Sergeant, attached to Records.”

“Data on screen one, please.”

As it began to scroll, Roarke reached for the coffee Eve held out to him, then waved his fingers when his ‘link beeped. “Get that, would you?”

It was the careless order of a man used to giving them. Automatically, she bristled, then just as quickly bumped aside the annoyance. She supposed the situation called for her to act as assistant.

“Roarke’s residence. Peabody?”

“You didn’t answer your communicator.”

“No, I…” God knew where it was, she thought. “What’s up?”

“It’s bad. Dallas, it’s bad.” Though her voice was steady, her face was dead white, and her eyes too dark. “Alice is dead. I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t get to her. She just — “

“Where are you?”

“On Tenth Street, between Broad and Seventh. I called the MTS, but there was nothing — “

“Are you in jeopardy?”

“No, no. I just couldn’t stop her. I just watched while — “

“Secure the scene, Officer. Relay to Dispatch. I’m on my way. Call backup as required, and stand. Understood?”

“Yes, sir. Yes.”

“Dallas out. Oh, Christ,” she murmured when she disengaged.

“I’ll take you.” He was already up, his hand on her shoulder.

“No, this is my job.” And she prayed it wasn’t her doing. “I’d appreciate it if you’d stay here and get whatever data you can.”

“All right. Eve.” He took both of her shoulders now, firmly, before she could turn away. “Look at me. This was not your fault.”

She did look at him, and there was grief in her eyes. “I hope to God it wasn’t.”

There wasn’t a crowd. Eve could be grateful for that. It was after two in the morning, and only a few gawkers huddled together behind the barricade. She saw a Rapid Cab tipped drunkenly on the curb and a man sitting beside it, his head in his hands, as an MT spoke with him.

On the rain-slicked street, lit dimly by the glow of a security light with fog billowing like clouds, was Alice. Her body sprawled there, faceup, her arms and legs flung out as if in wild welcome. Blood, her own, had soaked through the filmy material of her dress and turned it to dark, doomed red.

Peabody stood by her, assisting a uniform in the erecting of a privacy screen.

“Officer Peabody.” Eve said it softly, waited for Peabody to turn, straighten her shoulders, and cross to her. “Your report?”

“I followed the subject to her residence, as per your orders, Lieutenant. I watched her enter the building, and subsequently observed the light go on in the second window from the east, third floor. On my own initiative, I decided to keep watch for a period of fifteen minutes, to insure the subject remained inside. She did not.”

Peabody trailed off, and her gaze shifted to the body. Eve sidestepped, blocked the view. “Look at me when you report, Officer.”

“Yes, sir.” Peabody snapped back. “Subject exited building approximately ten minutes later. She appeared agitated, continually looked over her shoulder as she walked west at a rapid pace. She appeared to be crying. I maintained the standard distance. That’s why I couldn’t stop her.” Peabody had to suck in air. “I maintained the standard distance.”

“Stop it.” Eve snapped it out, gave Peabody a quick shake. “Complete your report.”

Peabody’s eyes went flat and cold as they met Eve’s. “Yes, sir. The subject stopped suddenly, took several steps in retreat. She spoke. I was too far away to discern what she said, but it was my impression that she was speaking to someone.”

She played it back through her mind, every step, leaning on her training like a crutch. “I closed the distance somewhat, in the event the subject was in jeopardy. I observed no one on the street other than the subject herself. The fog may have been a factor, but there was no one on the sidewalk or the street that I could see.”

“She stood there, talking to no one?” Eve asked.

“That’s how it appeared, Lieutenant. She became increasingly agitated. She begged to be left alone. Her words were, ‘Haven’t you done enough, haven’t you taken enough? Why won’t you leave me in peace.’ “

Peabody stared back at the sidewalk, saw it all again. Heard it as well. That hitch of desperation and despair in Alice’s voice. “I thought I heard a response, but can’t be definite. The subject was speaking too loudly and too rapidly for me to make a clear statement on that. I decided to move closer, to make myself known.”

A muscle in her jaw jumped as she continued to stare over Eve’s shoulder. “At this time, a Rapid Cab, traveling east, approached. The subject turned and ran into the street, directly into the path of the oncoming vehicle. The driver attempted to stop and evade, but was unable to do so and struck the subject head-on.”

She paused just long enough to take another breath. “Road conditions were fair to poor, and played a minor factor. Even with optimum conditions, it would be my opinion the driver would have been unable to avoid the collision.”

“Understood. Continue.”

“I reached the body within seconds, and though I observed that she was already dead, I called for the medical technicians, then attempted to contact you via your communicator. When this was unsuccessful, I utilized the porta-link in my bag and reached you at home to report the situation. Following your orders, I relayed to Dispatch and requested a uniform, then secured the scene.”

It was hell to be too late, Eve knew, and no amount of sympathy could ease that bitter guilt. So she offered none. “Very well, Officer. That’s the driver?”

Peabody continued to stare straight ahead, and her voice was hollow. “Yes, Lieutenant.”

“Arrange for his vehicle to be taken in for analysis, then consult with the MTS and find out if he’s in shape to give a statement.”

“Yes, sir.” Peabody clutched her hand into a fist at her side. She kept her voice low, but it vibrated with emotion. “You had a drink with her barely an hour ago. And it doesn’t mean a damn to you.”

Eve took the hit and waited until Peabody turned away before she walked back to Alice. “Yes, it does,” she murmured. “And that’s the problem.”

Opening her field kit, she crouched down to do her job.

It wasn’t homicide. Technically, Eve should have turned the matter over to Traffic after Peabody’s report and the ensuing statement from the weeping cabbie. But she watched Alice’s body being loaded into the morgue wagon and knew she had no intention of doing so.

She took a last look at the scene. The rain had nearly stopped and wouldn’t wash away the blood. The few gawkers who had gathered were already breaking up and moving along, tearing the last thin curtains of fog as they shuffled home.

Across at the curb, a city tow unit was already hitching up the damaged cab for transferral to the police compound.

Accidents, some would say, happened all too often. And so, Eve thought, did murder. All too often.

“You’ve had a long night, Peabody. You’re off duty.”

“I would prefer to stay on, Lieutenant, and see this through.”

“You won’t help her or me unless you can see it through objectively.”

“I can do my job, sir. My feelings are my own business.”

Eve hitched up her field kit, took a long look at her aide. “Yes, they are. Just don’t let them get in my way.” She took her recorder out of her kit, held it out to Peabody. “On record, Officer. We’ll examine the subject’s residence.”

“Do you intend to notify the next of kin? Sir?”

“When we’re done here.”

They headed east, back to Alice’s building. She hadn’t gotten far, Eve thought, barely a block. What had driven her back out? And what had driven her into the path of the cab?

The building was a pretty, restored brownstone of three stories. The entrance doors sported beveled glass with an etched design of peacocks. The security camera was in full repair, and the locks coded for palm prints. Eve disarmed them with a master code and entered a small, well-scrubbed foyer with faux marble floors. The elevator had a mirrored bronze sheen and ran with silent efficiency.

Alice, she thought, had had taste and the financial resources to indulge it. There were three apartments on the third floor, and again Eve used her master to gain entrance.

“Dallas, Lieutenant Eve, and aide, Peabody, Officer D., entering residence of deceased for standard examination. Lights,” she ordered, then frowned when the room remained dark.

Peabody reached around the door, flicked a switch. “She must have preferred manual to voice-activated.”

The room was cluttered and colorful. Pretty scarves and throws were draped over chairs, tables. Tapestries depicting attractive naked people and mythological animals romped over the walls. Candles were everywhere, on tables, on shelves, on the floor, as were bowls of colored stones, of herbs, of dried flower petals. Chunks and wands of crystal, sparkling clean, crowded every flat surface.

A mood screen was engaged and showed a wide field of meadow grass and wildflowers blowing gently in the breeze. Its audio played the song of birds and zephyrs.

“She liked pretty things,” Eve observed. “And lots of them.” Moving over, she glanced at the controls of the mood screen and nodded as they corroborated her thought. “She flipped this on as soon as she walked in. Wanted to mellow out, I’d say.”

Leaving Peabody to follow, she walked into the adjoining room. The bedroom was small, cozy, and again cluttered. The spread on the narrow bed was embroidered with stars and moons. A glass mobile, dancing with fairies, hung above it and even now clinked musically in the breeze through the open window.

“This would have been the window, the light you saw come on.”

“Yes, sir.”

“So she flipped on the screen, then came straight into the bedroom. Probably wanted to change, get out of the damp dress. But she didn’t.” Eve stepped on to a small area rug with the face of a smiling sun. “It’s cluttered, but tidy in its way. No sign of disturbance or struggle.”

“Struggle?”

“You said she was agitated, crying when she came back out. The country meadow program didn’t mellow her, or didn’t have enough time to.”

“She didn’t bother to shut it down again.”

“No,” Eve agreed. “She didn’t. There’s the possibility someone was here when she got home. Someone who upset or frightened her. We’ll check the security logs.” She opened what she assumed was a closet, and let out a hum. “Well, look at this. She’d turned it into a room of some kind. Not a lot of clutter here. Get this on record.”

Peabody stepped up, scanned the recorder over a small, white-walled room. The floor was wood with a white pentagram painted on it. A ring of white candles were arranged in careful symmetry around the edge. A small table held a clear crystal ball, a bowl, a mirror, and a dark-handled knife with a short, blunted blade.

Eve sniffed the air, but caught no hint of smoke or candle wax. “What do you figure she did in here?”

“I’d say it was kind of ritual room, for meditation, or casting spells.”

“Jesus.” With a shake of her head, Eve stepped back. “We’ll leave that for now and check out her ‘link. If no one was here to scare her back out, maybe she got a call that did. She came into the bedroom first,” Eve murmured, wandering back to the small bedside ‘link. “Maybe she intended to go in there and play witch after she’d changed and calmed down. She wasn’t carrying anything when she went back out. She didn’t come in here to get something and go out again. She was upset, she came home.”