J. D. ROBB

STRANGERS IN DEATH

1

MURDER HARBORED NO BIGOTRY, NO BIAS. ITsubscribed to no class system. In its gleeful, deadly, and terminally judicious way, murder turned a blind eye on race, creed, gender, and social stratum. As Lieutenant Eve Dallas stood in the sumptuous bedroom of the recently departed Thomas A. Anders, she considered that. Only the night before shed caughtand closeda case dealing with the homicide of a twenty-year-old woman whod been throttled, beaten, then chucked out the window of her nine-story flop. The rent-by-the-week flop, Eve mused, where the victims boyfriend claimed to have slept through herdemise,smelled of stale sex, stale zoner, and really bad Chinese food. Anders? His Park Avenue bedroom smelled of candy-colored tulips, cool, clean wealth, and dead body. Death had come to him on the luxurious sheets of his massive, silk-canopied bed. And to Tisha Brown it had come on the stained mattress tossed on the floor of a junkies flop. The header to the sidewalk had just been the flourish. The point was, Eve supposed, no matter who you weresex, race, tax bracketdeath leveled it all out. As a murder cop going on a dozen years for the NYPSD, shed seen it all before. It was barely seven in the morning, and she was alone with the dead. She had the first officers on scene downstairs with the housekeeper whod called in the nine-one-one. With her hands and boots sealed, she walked around the edges of the room while her recorder documented.

Victim is identified as Anders, Thomas Aurelius, of this address. Male, Caucasian, age sixty-one. Vic is married. Spouse is reported to be out of town, and has been notified by Horowitz, Greta, domestic who discovered the body at approximately oh six hundred and placed the nine-one-one at oh six twelve.

Eve cocked her head. Her hair was a short, somewhat shaggy brown around a face of angles and planes. Her eyes, a few shades lighter than her hair, were all copsharp, cynical, and cool as they studied the dead man in the big, fancy bed.

Anders was reputed to be alone in the house. There are two domestic droids, both of which were shut down. On cursory exam, there are no signs of forced entry, no signs of burglary, no signs of struggle.

On long legs, she crossed to the bed. Over her lean body she wore rough trousers, a plain cotton shirt, and a long coat of black leather. Behind her, over a gas fireplace where flames simmered gold and red, the view screen popped on. Good morning, Mr. Anders! Narrow-eyed, Eve turned to stare at the screen. The computerized female voice struck her as annoyingly perky, and the sunrise colors bleeding onto the screen wouldnt have been her choice of wake-up call. Its now seven-fifteen on Tuesday, March eighteenth, twenty-sixty. You have a ten oclock tee time at the club, with Edmond Luce. As the computer chirpily reminded Anders what hed ordered for breakfast, Eve thought:No egg-white omelette for you this morning, Tom. Across the room in an ornate sitting area, a miniAutoChef with bright brass fittings beeped twice. Your coffees ready! Enjoy your day!

Not so much, Eve murmured. The screen flipped to the mornings headline news, anchored by a woman only slightly less perky than the computer. Eve tuned her out. The headboard gleamed brass, tooall of its sleek, shiny rungs. Black velvet ropes tied Anderss wrists to two of them, while two more ropes bound his ankles by a length to the footboard. The four matching ropes were joined by the fifth that wrapped around Anderss throat, pulling his head off the pillows. His eyes were wide, and his mouth hung open as if he was very surprised to find himself in his current position. Several sex toys sat on the table beside the bed. Anal probe, vibrator, colorful cock rings, gliding and warming lotions, and lubricants. The usual suspects, Eve thought. Leaning down, she studied, sniffed Anderss thin, bare chest. Kiwi, she thought, and angled her head to read labels on the lotions. Definitely the kiwi. It took all kinds. As shed noticed something else, she lifted the duvet from where it pooled at Anderss waist. Under it, three neon (possibly glow-in-the-dark) cock rings rode on an impressive erection.

Not bad for a dead man.

Eve eased open the drawer in the nightstand. Inside, as shed suspected, was an economy pack of the top-selling erection enhancer, Stay-Up. Hell of a product endorsement.

She started to open her field kit, then stopped when she heard approaching footsteps. She recognized the clomp of boots as her partners shit-kickers. Whatever the calendar said about the approach of spring, in New York that was a big, fat lie. As if to prove the point, Detective Delia Peabody stepped through the door in an enormousand puffypurple coat, with a long, striped scarf that appeared to be wrapped around her neck three times. Between that and the cap pulled over her ears, only her eyes and the bridge of her nose were visible.

Its freaking five degrees, somebody who might have been Peabody said against the muffle of scarf.

I know.

With the windchill, they said its, like, freaking minus ten.

I heard that.

Its freaking March, three days before spring. Its not right.

Take it up with them.

Who?

Thetheywho have to go mouthing off about it being freaking minus ten. Youre colder and pissier because they have to blabber about it. Take some of that shit off. You look ridiculous.

Even my teeth are frozen.

But Peabody began to peel off the multiple layers covering her sturdy body. Scarf, coat, gloves, insulated zippy. Eve wondered how the hell she managed to walk with all of it weighing her down. With the hat discarded, Peabodys dark hair with its sassy little flip at the nape appeared to frame her square face. She still sported a pink-from-cold-tipped nose.

Cop on the door said it looked like sex games gone bad.

Could be. Wifes out of town.

Bad boy. Down to her street clothes, sealed up, Peabody carted her field kit to the bed. Scanned the nightstand. Very bad boy.

Lets verify ID, get TOD. Eve examined one of the limp hands. Looks like he had a nice manicure recently. Nails are short, clean, and buffed. She angled her head. No scratches, no bruises, no apparent trauma other than the throat. And& She lifted the duvet again. Peabodys dark brown eyes popped. Wowzer!

Yeah, fully loaded. Place like this has to have good security, so well check that. Two domestic droidswell check their replay. Take a look at his house links, pocket links, memo, date, address books. Tom had company. He didnt hoist himself up like this.

Cherchez la femme.Its French for

I know its French. We could also becherchezing the&whatever guy is in French.

Oh. Yeah.

Finish with the body, Eve ordered. Ill take the room.

It was a hell of a room, if you went for a lot of gold accent, shiny bits, curlicues. Besides the big bed in which Anders had apparently died, a sofa, a couple of oversized scoop chairs, and a full-service sleep chair offered other places to stretch out. In addition to the AutoChef, the bedroom boasted a brass friggie, a wet bar, and an entertainment unit. The his and hers bathrooms both held jet tubs, showers, drying tubes, entertainment and communication centers within their impressive acreage. The space continued with two tri-level closets with attached dressing areas. Eve wondered why they needed the rest of the house. She should talk, she admitted. Living with Roarke meant living in enough space to house a small city with all the bells and whistles big, fat fists of money could buy. He had better tastethank Godthan the Anderses. She wasnt entirely sure she couldve fallen for him, much less married him, if hed surrounded himself with gold and glitter and tassels, and Christ knew. But as muchstuffas there was jammed into the space, it all looked&in place, she decided. No sign or sense anything had been riffled through. She found a safe in each closet, concealed so a child of ten with dirt in both eyes could have found them. Shed check with the wife on those, but she wasnt smelling theft or burglary. Walking out into the main bedroom again, she took another, hard look around.

Prints verify ID as Anders, Thomas A., of this address, Peabody began. Gauge gives me three thirty-two as time of death. Thats really late or really early to be playing tie-me-up, tie-me-down games.

If killer and vic came up here together, where are his clothes?

Peabody turned toward her lieutenant, pursed her lips. Considering youre married to the hottest guy on or off the planet, I shouldnt have to tell you that the point in the tie-me-wherever game is to be naked while youre doing it.

One of the other points is to get each other naked. If they came in here together, Eve considered, if they came up here for games, is he going to strip down,thenhang up his clothes or dump his shorts in the hamper? You got that on the menu she gestured to the sex toys youre not thinking about tidy. Clothes get pulled, tugged, torn, yanked offfall on the floor. Even if this is an old game with a usual playmate, wouldnt you just toss your shirt over the chair?

I hang up my clothes. Sometimes. Peabody shrugged now. She angled her head to study the scene again, absently tossed back the hair that fell over her cheek. But, yeah, thats going to be when Im not thinking about jumping McNab, or hes not already jumping me. Everything looks pretty tidy in here, and in the rest of the house I got a look at on the way up. Vic couldve been a neat freak.

Could. The killer couldve come in when he was already in bed. Three in the morning, surprise, surprise. Then things got out of handaccidentally or on purpose. Killer comes inthe probabilitys high the vic or another household member knew the killer. No sign of break-in, and theres a high-end security system. Maybe this is another part of the game. Comes in after hes asleep. Surprises him. Wakes him up. Trusses him up, works him up. Toys and games.

And went too far.

Eve shook her head. It went as far as he or she meant it to go. The erotic asphyxiation oops doesnt play.

But& Peabody studied the body again, the scene, and wished she could see whatever Eve could. Why?

If it was all in fun, and went wrong, why did the killer leave the noose around Anderss neck? An accident, but you dont loosen it, try to revive when he starts choking, convulsing?

Maybe in the throes&Okay, thats a stretch, but if it happened fast, and she or he panicked&

Either way, weve got a corpse, weve got a case. Well see what the ME thinks about accidental. Well go interview the housekeeper, let the sweepers in here.

Greta Horowitz was a sturdy-looking woman with a long rectangle of a face and a no-nonsense tude Eve appreciated. She offered coffee in the big silver and black kitchen, then served it with steady hands and dry eyes. With her strong, German-accented voice, direct blue eyes, and Valkyrie build, Eve assumed Greta handled what came her way.

How long have you been here, Ms. Horowitz?

I am nine years in this employment, and in this country.

You came to the U.S. from&

Berlin.

How did you come to be employed by the Anderses?

Through an employment agency. You want to know how I came here and why. This is simple, and then we can speak of what is important. My husband was in the military. He was killed twelve years ago. We had no children. I am accomplished in running households, and to work I signed with an agency in Germany. I came to wish to come here. A soldiers wife sees much of the world, but I had never seen New York. I applied for this position, and after several interviews via link and holo, was hired.

Thank you. Before we get to whats important, do you know why the Anderses wanted a German housekeeper, particularly?

I am House Manager.

House Manager.

Mr. Anderss grandmother was from Germany, and as a boy he had a German nanny.

Okay. What time did you arrive this morning?

Six. Precisely. I arrive at six precisely every morning but Sunday, which is my full day off. I leave at four, precisely, but for Tuesdays and Thursdays when I leave at one. My schedule can be adjusted as needed, and with sufficient notice.

When you arrived at precisely six this morning, what did you do? Precisely?

Gretas lips twitched, very slightly. It might have been humor. Precisely, I removed my coat, hat, scarf, gloves, and stored them in the closet. Then I engaged the in-house security cameras. Mr. Anders disengages them every night prior to retiring. He dislikes the sensation of being watched, even if no one is in the house. My first duty in the morning is to turn them on again. After doing so, I came in here. I turned on the news, as is my habit, then checked the communication system. My employers most usually leave their breakfast orders the night before. They prefer I prepare them, rather than using the AutoChef. Mr. Anders ordered sliced melon, an egg-white omelette with dill, and two slices of wheat toast, with butter and orange marmalade. Coffeehe takes his with cream and one sugarand a glass of tomato juice.

Do you know what time he put the order in?

Yes. At twenty-two seventeen.

So you started breakfast?

I did not. Mr. Anders would have breakfasted today at eight-fifteen. My next morning duty would have been to reengage the two domestic droids, as these are shut down every evening before Mr. and Mrs. Anders retire, and to give them the days work schedule. The droids are kept in the security room, there. She gestured. I went in to deal with them, but I noticed the security screensthe in-house. I saw Mr. Anderss bedroom door was open. Mr. Andersneverleaves his door open. If hes inside the room, or has left the room, the door is closed. If Im required to be in the room, Im to leave the door open while Im inside, then close it again when I leave. Its the same for the domestics.

Why?

Its not my place to ask.

Its my place,Eve thought. You saw the door was open, but you didnt notice the dead man in bed?

The bedroom camera screens only the sitting area. Mr. Anders programmed it that way.

A little phobic, maybe?

Perhaps. I will say hes a very private man.

So his door was open.

Nine years, Greta continued. The door has never been open when I arrive in the morning, unless my employers are not in residence. I was concerned, so I went upstairs without booting up the droids. When I got to the bedroom, I saw the fire in the hearth. Mr. Anders will not allow the fire when he sleeps or when he is out of the room. I was more concerned, so I went into the room. I saw him immediately. I went to the bedside, and I saw that I couldnt help him. I went downstairs again, very quickly, and called nine-one-one.

Why downstairs?

Greta looked puzzled. I thought, from books and plays and vids, that I was not to touch anything in the room. Is that wrong?

No, its exactly right. You did exactly the right thing.

Good. Greta gave a brisk, self-congratulatory nod. Then I contacted Mrs. Anders, and waited for the police to come. They came in, perhaps, five or six minutes. I took the two officers upstairs, then one brought me back down to the kitchen, and waited here with me until you stepped in.

I appreciate the details. Can you tell me who has the security codes to the house?

Mr. and Mrs. Anders and myself. The codes are changed every ten days.

No one else has the codes? A good friend, another employee, a relative?

Greta shook her head, decisively. No one else has the codes.

Mrs. Anders is away.

Yes. She left on Friday for a week in St. Lucia with some female friends. This is an annual trip, though they dont go to the same place necessarily.

You contacted her.

Yes. Greta shifted slightly. I realize, after thinking more clearly, I should have waited, and the police would have notified Mrs. Anders. But&theyre my employers.

How did you contact her?

Through the resort. When she goes on holiday, she often shuts off her pocket link.

And her reaction?

I told her there had been an accident, that Mr. Anders was dead. I dont think she believed me, or understood me initially. I had to repeat it twice, and I felt, under the circumstances, I couldnt tell her when she asked what kind of accident. She said she would come home immediately.

Okay, Greta. You have a good relationship with the Anderses?

They are very good employers. Very fair, very correct.

How about their relationship, with each other? Its not gossip, Eve said, reading Greta perfectly. Its very fair, and its very correct for you to tell me any and everything you can that may help me find out what happened to Mr. Anders.

They seemed very content to me, very well suited. It would be my impression that they enjoyed each other, and their life together.

Enjoying each other wasnt what the crime scene transmitted, Eve thought. Did either, or both of them, have relationships outside the marriage?

You mean sexual. I couldnt say. I manage the house. Ive never seen anything in the house that would lead me to believe either, or both, engaged in adulterous affairs.

Can you think of anyone whod want him dead?

No. Greta eased back slowly. I thoughtI assumedthat someone had broken in to steal, and that Mr. Anders was killed by the thief.

Have you noticed anything missing or out of place?

No. No. But I havent looked.

Im going to have you do that now. One of the officers will take you around. She glanced over as Peabody came in. Peabody, get one of the uniforms. I want Mrs. Horowitz escorted while she looks around the house. Youre free to go afterward, Eve told Greta. If youd give my partner or me the contact information where youll be.

I prefer to stay, until Mrs. Anders arrives, if this is allowed. She may need me.

All right then. Eve rose, signaling the end to the initial interview. Thanks for your cooperation.

As Greta went out, Eve walked to the room off the kitchen. Inside two droids, disengaged, stood. One male, one female, both uniformed and dignified in appearance. The security screens Greta had spoken of ranged over a wall, and as shed stated, the master bedroom camera showed only the sitting area.

Dallas?

Huh?

House security was disengaged at two twenty-eight, reengaged at three twenty-six.

Eve turned to frown at Peabody. Reengaged before TOD?

Yeah. All security discs for the twenty-four-hour period before the security was reset are gone.

Why, Im shocked. Well get EDD in here to see if they can dig something out. So Anderss night visitor left him hanging, and still alive. That doesnt sound like sex games gone wrong.

No, Peabody agreed. Sounds like murder.

Eve pulled out her communicator when it signaled. Dallas.

Sir, Mrs. Anders just got here. Should I bring her in?

Bring her straight back to the kitchen. Eve switched off. Okay, lets see what the widow has to say.

Turning back to the screens, she watched Ava Anders sweep through the front door, her sable coat swinging back from a slim body dressed in deep blue. Her hair, a delicate blond, was pulled severely back from a face of high planes. Fat pearl drops swung at her ears, shaded glasses masked her eyes as she crossed the wide, marble foyer, through ornate archways, in skinny-heeled boots with the uniform at her side. Eve stepped back into the kitchen, took her seat at the sunny breakfast nook seconds before Ava strode in. Youre in charge? She pointed a finger at Eve. Youre the one in charge? I demand to know whats going on. Who the hellareyou?

Lieutenant Dallas, NYPSD. Homicide.

Homicide? What do you mean Homicide? She pulled off her sunglasses, revealing eyes as blue and deep as her suit, tossed them onto the counter. Greta said thered been an accident. Tommy was in an accident. Wheres my husband? Wheres Greta?

Eve got to her feet. Mrs. Anders, Im sorry to tell you your husband was killed this morning.

Ava stood where she was, her eyebrows drawing together, her breath coming in short little bursts. Killed. Greta said&but I thought. She braced a hand on the counter, then slowly walked over to sit. How? Did he&did he fall? Did he get sick, or&

Always best to stab quick and clean, Eve thought. He was strangled in his bed.

Ava lifted a hand, pressed it to her mouth. Lifted the other to cross it over the first. Those deep blue eyes filled, and the tears spilled as she shook her head.

Im sorry, but I need to ask you some questions.

Wheres Tommy?

Were taking care of him now, Mrs. Anders. Peabody stepped over, offered a glass of water. She took the water, and when one hand shook, gripped the glass with both. Someone broke in? I dont see how that can be. Were secure, were very secure here. Fifteen years. Weve been here for fifteen years. Weve never had a break-in.

There werent any signs of a break-in.

I dont understand.

Whoever killed your husband either knew the security code, or was given access to the house.

That cant be. Ava waved a hand in quick dismissal. No one other than Tommy and myself and Greta has the code. Surely youre not suggesting Greta

Im not, no. Though shed be doing a thorough check on the house manager. There wasnt a break-in, Mrs. Anders. Thus far theres no sign anything in the house was taken, or disturbed.

Ava laid a hand between her breasts where a rope of luminous pearls rested. Youre saying Tommy let someone in, and they killed him. But that doesnt make sense.

Mrs. Anders, was your husband involved with someone, sexually or romantically?

She turned away immediately, first her face, then her body. I dont want to talk about this now. Im not going to talk about this now. My husband is dead.

If you know anyone who could gain access to the house, to his bedroomwhile you were out of the countryit could tell us who killed your husband, and why.

I dont know. I dont. And I cantthinkabout something like that. The anger slapped out at Eve. I want you to leave me alone. I want you out of my house.

Thats not going to happen. Until we clear it, this house is part of a homicide investigation. Your husbands bedroom is a crime scene. I suggest you make arrangements to stay elsewhere for the time being, and to stay available. If you dont want to finish this now, well finish it later.

I want to see my husband. I want to see Tommy.

Well arrange that as soon as possible. Do you want us to contact anyone for you?

No. Ava looked out the sunny window. I dont want anyone. I dont want anyone now.

Outside, Eve climbed behind the wheel while Peabody sat shotgun. Rough, Peabody commented. Youre soaking up tropical drinks and rays one minute, and the next, your husbands dead.

She knows he was screwing around. She knows something about it.

I guess they probably always do. The spouse, I mean, of the screwing-arounder. And I think a lot of times they can just block it out, pretend its not happening hard enough so they start to believe it.

Would you be shedding tears for McNabs dead body if hed been screwing around on you?

Peabody pursed her lips. Well, since Idve been the one who killed him, Id probably be shedding tears for me because youd be arresting me. And that would really make me sad. Easy enough to verify Ava Anders was out of the country when Anders died.

Yeah, do that. And well check her financials. Theyve got plenty of dough to roll. Maybe she cut off some to hire somebody to kill him. Paid his playmate to do it.

Man, how cold wouldthatbe?

Well run friends, business associates, golf partners

Golf?

He had a golf game scheduled this morning with an Edmond Luce. Maybe well shake loose something on who he played other games with when the wife was off with the girls.

Wouldnt you like to do that? Have a girl trip?

No.

Ah, come on, Dallas. The very idea brightened Peabodys voice. Go somewhere with girlfriends, hang, drink lots of wine or fussy drinks, get facials and spa treatments, or lie on the beach, and talk about stuff half the night.

Eve glanced over. Id rather be dragged naked over jagged glass.

Well, I think we should do it some time. You, me, Mavis, maybe Nadine and Louise. And Trinashe could do our hair and

If Trina comes on this mythical nightmare, I get to draghernaked over jagged glass. Thats my bottom line.

Youd have fun, Peabody muttered.

I would, I probably would. Id feel bad about dragging her over jagged glass ten or twenty years later, but at the time, Id have fun.

Giving up, Peabody huffed out a breath, took out her PPC, and began to do the checks and runs. 2

IT WAS INTERESTING, BUT NOT SURPRISING, THATAnders Worldwides New York headquarters were housed in the sleek black tower on Fifth. Roarke Enterprises New York headquarters also housed its base there and owned every inch of that sleek black tower.

Do you want to stop by and see

No.

Peabody rolled her eyes at Eves back as they stepped into the huge, glossy lobby with its rivers of flowers, its moving maps, its busy shops. I just figured since we were right here

Why are we right here, Peabody? And if you roll your eyes behind me again, Im going to poke them out with a stick.

You dont have a stick.

Theres a tree right over there. Ill get one.

Peabody sighed. Were right here because were investigating a murder.

And do we think Roarke killed Anders?

No.

Eve stopped at Security, started to badge the guard on duty. And he smiled toothily. Lieutenant Dallas. You can go right up.

Im not going there. Anders Worldwide.

He tapped his computer screen. Twenty-first and-second floors. Reception on twenty-one. Youll want the first bank of elevators. Do you want me to call up?

No, thanks.

Eve called the car, stepped on, ordered the twenty-first floor.

Do you think Roarke knew Anders?

Probably.

Could be handy.

Maybe. Eve had nearly reached the point where having Roarke know so many damn people wasnt completely annoying. The run said Anders is worth about half a billion including his controlling interest in Anders Worldwide. Hooking her thumbs in her pockets, Eve tapped her fingers on her thighs. Thats a lot of motives for murder. Add sex, youve pretty much got it all. Greed, jealousy, gain, revenge.

The guy was practically asking for it.

Eve grinned. Lets find out. Her face sober again, she walked through the open elevator doors. Behind a long red counter, three receptionists wore headsets and appeared very busy. Even so, the center one, a dark-skinned brunette, offered a beaming smile. Good morning! How can I help you?

I need to see whoevers in charge.

Which department are youOh. She broke off, blinking rapidly at Eves badge when it slapped on the slick red counter.

All of them. Whos the top dog under Thomas A. Anders?

This is my first week. I dont know what Im supposed to do. Frankie!

What is it, Syl? The man at her left glanced over, then down at the badge. Is there something I can help you with, ah&

Lieutenant. I need to speak with Thomas Anderss second-in-command, or whoevers highest in the pecking order and in house now.

That would be Mr. Forrest. Benedict Forrest. Hes in a meeting, but

Not anymore.

Right. If you could give me a minute to contact his admin. Hell come down and escort you upstairs.

I can get upstairs myself. Tell the admin to get Forrest out of the meeting. Eve got back in the elevator, rolled her shoulders. That was fun.

Pretty bitchy.

Thats what was fun about it.

As Eve stepped off again, a stick-thin woman in high, stick-thin heels came bolting through a set of glass doors. Ah, officers! If youd come with me.

Youre the admin?

No, Im the AA. Assistant administrator. Ill take you to Mr. Walshs office.

Who would be the administrative assistant, rather than the assistant administrator.

Exactly.

How does anybody get business done when they have to translate all these titles?

Ah, Mr. Walsh is letting Mr. Forrest know youre here. Apparently Reception didnt get the nature of the business youre here to discuss.

No, they didnt.

The AA opened her mouth, obviously thought better of it, and closed it. They wound their way through a busy hive of offices and cubes, then made a forty-five-degree turn into the efficient space ofhis name was engraved on a small onyx plaque beside the doorLeopold Walsh. His workstation was a long, free-standing counter in sleek black holding the usual necessities of comp, data and communication unit, and little else. A second counter ran along the wall to support a laser fax, a secondary computer. A third counter served as a refreshment center with AutoChef and friggie. A trio of visitors chairs ranged together, backless cubes in pristine white. The only color in the room came from the showy plant with its vivid red blossoms spearing up from the middle windowsill of the generous triple glass. Supplies, she supposed, and any necessary paperwork would be tucked away in the cabinetry built into the wall. Altogether she preferred the miserly space and tattered style of her office at Central.

If youd like to have a seat, Mr. Walsh should be The AA glanced at the door with obvious relief lighting her face. Mr. Walsh.

Thank you, Delly. He stepped in, an imposing man with dark chocolate skin in a pin-striped suit. His hair formed a skullcap that set off a striking face of sharp angles. Deep-set eyes, the color of good, strong coffee, flicked over Peabody, fastened on Eve. Leopold Walsh. Lieutenant&

Dallas. For form, Eve presented her badge again. And Detective Peabody. Were here to see Benedict Forrest.

So Im told. He handed her badge back to her. As you were told, Mr. Forrest is in a meeting.

Badge trumps meeting.

It would be helpful if you told me what this is in regards to.

It would be helpful if I told Mr. Forrest what this is in regards to.

He wanted to stonewallshe could see it. And couldnt blame him, as shed have wanted to do the same.

Mr. Forrest He broke off, holding up a hand as the ear-com he wore blinked blue.

Yes, sir. Of course. Mr. Forrest, he began again, is available. This way, please.

Benedict Forrests office was only steps away from his admins, but a world away from it in style. Here, the workstation held the necessary and the efficient, crowded together with what Eve thought of as guy toysan autographed baseball on a pedestal, a handheld golf game, a couple of trophies, a sponge-weight toy football. Photographs and posters of sports figures or sports products juggled for space along the wall. Chairs were leather, deep, and looked comfortably worn. Forrest himself stood about three inches under his admins height. He wore a shirt open at the collar, casual khakis, and trendy gel-skids. There was a friendly, just-one-of-the-guys look about him with his tousled sandy hair, easy smile, cheerful hazel eyes.

Youve been waiting. Sorry. I had to wrap things up. Ben Forrest. He crossed the office as he spoke, shot out his hand. Eve shook, studying him as he offered his hand to Peabody.

Lieutenant Dallas, Detective Peabody.

Have a seat. What can we get you? Coffee, bottled water, a sports drink?

Were fine. Were hear to speak with you about Thomas Anders.

Humor danced over Forrests expressive face. Dont tell me Uncle Tommys in trouble.

Uncle?

My mothers brother. Please, sit. He gestured, then dropped down into a chair. More, really, as he basically raised me after my mother died.

How did she die?

Eaten by a shark.

Intrigued, Eve sat. Really?

His grin flashed. Yeah, really. I was about six, and dont remember her that well, so its more interesting than tragic for me. Scuba diving off the coast of Madagascar. Anyway, what about my uncle?

Sticky now, Eve thought. Im sorry to have to tell you Mr. Anders was killed this morning.

Amusement snapped into shock that leached the healthy color out of his face. What? Killed? How? Are you sure? Wait. He rose, dug a link out of his pocket.

Mr. Forrest, weve just left your uncles home, and his widow.

But&were going to the Knicks game tonight. Wewe played golf on Sunday. He&

Ben. Leopold moved across the room. After taking the link out of Bens hand, he laid a hand on Bens shoulder, eased him down into the chair. Im very sorry. So very sorry. Im going to cancel the rest of your appointments for the day. He walked to a cabinet, tapped the door. When it opened, he took out a chilled bottle of water, unscrewed the top. Drink some water.

Like a puppet, Ben obeyed. Eve made no objection when Leopold ranged himself like a guard behind Bens chair.

What happened?

He was strangled.

That cant be right. Ben shook his head slowly from side to side. That just cant be right.

Do you know anyone who wished him harm?

No. No.

Where were you this morning between one and fourA.M.?

Jesus. Home. Home in bed.

Alone?

No. I had&a friend. He rubbed the cold bottle over his face. Gatch Brooks. She was there all night. We got up about six, worked out together. She leftwe both left around eight. You can check. Just check. I wouldnt hurt Uncle Tommy. Hes like a father to me.

You were close. How would you describe Mr. Anderss relationship with his wife?

Great. Good. Avas&you said youd talked to her. Told her. God. Leopold, get the number where shes staying. I need to

Shes home, Mr. Forrest, Peabody told him.

She&Oh, she came home. She came home when you told her& Ben pressed his fingers to his eyes. I cant think straight. I need to get over to the house, to Ava. I need toWhere is he? Is he still home, or&

Hes been taken to the morgue. He didnt bother to fight tears, Eve noted. He let them come. Youyour familywill be able to make arrangements as soon as we finish our examination.

Okay. Now he pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, leaning forward to brace his elbows on his thighs. Okay.

Who was your uncle sexually involved with?

Huh. Bens eyes, already rimmed with red, lifted to Eves face. Well, Jesus, Ava. I mean they were married for Christs sake.

Outside of marriage.

Nobody. Anger and insult snapped through the grief, brought color back to Bens face. Thats a hell of a thing to say. He didnt cheat. He wasnt a cheater. You dont know the kind of man he was. He believed in honesty, in good sportsmanship, in playing to win, but playing it straight.

Who stands to gain from his death?

Nobody, Ben replied. His death diminishes all of us. You mean financially. I would, Ava would. He let out a long breath. I dont know how things were set up. There are probably charitable organizations, thered be something for Gretathe house manager. But what youre talking about, that would be me and Ava. I need to get over there.

Even as he rose, the link Leopold still held signaled. After a glance at the display, Leopold offered it. Its Mrs. Anders.

Ben grabbed the link, turned his back. Privacy mode, he ordered. Ava. God, Ava, I just heard&I know. I know. Its all right. Yes, the police are here. Yes, thats right. Im coming right over. I His voice cracked, then firmed again. I cant believe hes gone. I cant take it in. Ill be there as soon as I can.

After ending the transmission, Ben turned back to Eve. His expression was simply shattered. She needs family. I have to go now.

Well need to see Mr. Anderss office, Eve told him. And well need to access his electronics.

All right. Yes, all right. I have to go. Leo, whatever they need.

Eve waited until they were heading down. Funny, isnt it, how Anderss officelike his nephewsis all casual guy, even a little toward man cave with the trophies and the sports equipment everywhere. Nothing polished, fashionable, or edgy. Nothing like where he lives.

Well, he sells the sports stuff. And lots of houses more reflect the womans taste than the guys. Or one partners taste over the others.

She thought of herself and Roarke. When it came to decor, she&never gave it a thought, she admitted. Yet, she had her home office, her somewhat shabbyby comparison with the resthome office that fit what could be called her style.

Didnt notice a man cave at the house, she commented, and shrugged. Howd Forrest play for you, Peabody?

Forrest wins actor of the century award, or he was sincerely shocked when you told him his uncle was dead, and was sincerely and deeply broken up. There just wasnt a false note. I believe him.

Seemed straight enough. Well verify his alibi. If Anders stood as daddy since Forrest was six, thats twenty-five years or so. Funny that Ava said they didnt have any children.

Well,theydidnt.

She didnt even mention him, and doesnt call to tell him for hours after the house manager notified her. Maybe a false note, Eve speculated, maybe just shock and confusion. Forrest comes off as a nice guyand a nice, well-off kind of guy. Now hes a really rich kind of guy.

Ill start a run on him. You didnt mention really cute kind of guy, Peabody added as they rode down to the underground garage. He had that easygoing, athletic thing happening. But the admin? Peabody hissed air in between her teeth. Sizzling.

Sure, if youre another guy.

Huh?

Gay, Peabody.

Uh-uh. Why?

Could be bi. With another shrug Eve leaned against the wall. Either way, hes got a serious man crush on his boss.

I didnt get that. I did not get that.

Because you were too busy being sizzled. Myself, I was practically buried in the unrequited love/lust vibes. Sizzling Leopold had them in check, until Forrest fell apart. Must be tough.

Maybe the love/lust isnt unrequited?

Eve shook her head. Forrest is clueless to that part of it. Didnt even notice Leopolds quick flinch when he mentioned sleeping with the alibi. Lets run the sizzler, too. She pushed off the wall as the doors slid open. Love makes you do the wacky.

Yes, indeed it did, she thought a moment later when she saw Roarke leaning casually on her were-on-a-budget police vehicle. Tall, lean, with a mane of black hair framing a face blessed by the gods, he shifted those killer blue eyes toward her. It was ridiculous, she thought, to feel that burn in the belly, that thump of the heart over a lookbut no more ridiculous than a man who owned a fat chunk of the known universe passing the time on his PPC while he loitered in a parking garage. He slipped the PPC into his pocket, smiled. Lieutenant. Hello, Peabody.

Shouldnt you be upstairs buying Alaska?

I did that last week. I got wind cops were in the house. What can I do for the NYPSD that I havent already done?

Oh yeah, she thought, the voice was another killer, hinting of Irelands misty green hills. And she supposed she should have known hedget wind. Nothing got by Roarke.

This one isnt on you, since youre alibied for the time in question.

Pretty solid, Peabody put in, sleeping with the primary. At Eves cool stare, Peabody hunched. Just saying.

Roarke grinned at her. And the primary was up and out early as duty called. He looked back at Eve. So whos dead then?

Thomas A. Anders of Anders Worldwide.

The grin faded. Is he? Well, thats a shame.

You knew him?

A bit. Liked what I knew well enough. Youve been up to his office then, seen BenBenedict Forrest.

Points for you. How well do you know Forrest?

Casually. Hes a casual sort of man. Agreeable, and smarter than a lot take him for.

How about the widow?

Roarke cocked his head. Seems were having ourselves an interview after all. You shouldve come up, and wed have done this in more pleasant surroundings.

I have to get to the morgue.

How many men are married to women who say that routinely, I wonder? Well. He glanced at his wrist unit. As it happens, I have some business downtown. You could give me a lift, and question me ruthlessly along the way.

The idea had its merits. Eve uncoded the car. You can ride as far as the morgue, then youre on your own.

Again, how many are as blessed as I? He opened the door for Peabody, but she waved him on.

Ill take the back. Ive got work anyway.

Track down Forrests alibi first, Eve ordered, then took the wheel.

How was Anders killed? Roarke asked her.

Give me impressions first. The vic, the widow, anyone else who applies.

Anders wouldve been the second generation of the companytaking it over from his father, who I believe died a year or so ago. A bit longer maybe. It does quite well, good quality products at a reasonable price point.

Not the business, Eve said as she wound through the garage. Not for now.

One influences the other. Lived fairly quietly, I believe. Sports madboth him and Benwhich fits with the fact they sell and develop sports equipment. He enjoyed golf, particularly, I believe, and various other games that feature whacking or hurling a ball about. I gather he preferred, when possible, to conduct his business on some court or green rather than in the office. My impression would be he enjoyed his work, and was good at it.

Eve streamed through traffic, cutting around a maxibus, then began to hack her way across town. How about the spouse?

Attractive, well-spoken. Ah, involved in some charity work, it seems to me. Anders sponsors sports camps for underprivileged children. I believe she beats the drum for funding. I cant say Ive seen them out and about together more than a handful of times, but he had a reputation for avoiding the social scene&as some do.

She slid her eyes in his direction. I go to stuff. Impressions of their relationship?

Hard to say, as we werent chummy. They struck me as a team, appeared affectionate. In synch, I suppose Id say.

Any mumbles about him screwing around on her?

Roarkes brows lifted. None Ive heard, though I dont know as I would, either way. Is that basic cop cynicism, or is there reason for you to believe he cheated on his wife?

At the time of death, the wife was out of town. Thats verified. Anderss housekeeperhousemanager, Eve corrected, found him this morning just after six. Naked, hands and feet bound with black velvet rope. The kind the bondage shops sell by the yard. Another length was wrapped around his neck in what would appear to be an erotic scarfing session gone bad. There were numerous sex aids and toys on the nightstand, and the corpse still sported an impressive hard-on when the primary began her investigation. There was no sign of forced entry, no sign of struggle, no additional visible signs of trauma or violence on the body.

Roarke was silent a moment. People have their secrets, and the appetites they hide from the rest. Still, I wouldnt have thought him the sort for sport of that nature. Its the kind of salacious details the media will salivate over. Difficult for the family he leaves.

Anybody you can think of who might want to do him, and set it up so the media salivates?

For what point? If youre thinking a competitor, killing Anders doesnt kill, or damage, the company. And a scandal like this? It wouldnt hurt stock or salesnot appreciably. In fact, it might give them a temporary boost. People are odd creatures. I need a new pair of track shoes, one might say. I think Ill buy some by that guy who died with a boner.

If he lasted, so will they.

Exactly. They could use it as a bloody slogan.

Forrests alibi checks, Peabody said from the backseat. I tagged EDD, and theyve got a geek squad on scene. Another will be transporting Anderss office electronics. First report verifies my findings. Security shut down at two twenty-eight, rebooted at three thirty-six. Security was dark for nearly an hour.

Had to be remote. Eve glanced at Roarke. Have to have the passcode or system specs to avoid the auto alarm.

There are ways. There are always ways.

You wouldnt need ways unless it was premeditated. Randy Toms going to entertain, he doesnt need to shut down his security. His wifes out of the country, and for several days yet. So he lets them in, or he gives them the passcode. This way? Its too elaborate, its too fuckingcareful.

With a side of mean, Roarke added. There are ways, always ways, to kill a man. Why choose to kill this way? Intimately, and in a manner that smears the victim and his family?

Well find out. First stop. Eve pulled over to double park in front of the morgue. Peabody, Ill take this. Head back to Central, start the runs. See if you can locate the vics golf partner, and run him. I want EDD to start evaluations on what type of remote was used. Lets start a time line on the vics day yesterday.

Ignoring the furious blast of horns, she shifted to Roarke. This is your stop, ace.

He glanced through the window at the morgue. Not for some time, I hope. Good luck, Peabody, he added as he slipped out of the car to join Eve on the sidewalk. I could make some inquiries. I know people who knew him, people who did business with him.

You could. Considering that, Eve stuck her hands in her pockets, and surprised herself by finding gloves in them. Words spreading by now, so it couldnt hurt. Do you really have business downtown?

I do. But even if I didnt, it wouldve been worth the trip.

She looked at him in the stubbornly frigid, blowing wind. Murder talk makes it worth the trip?

As entertaining as that invariably is, no. This would make it worth the trip.

He grabbed hershe shouldve seen it comingand his mouth covered hers. The instant blast of heat slammed right through such matters as late winter freezes and windchill factors. The sudden power and punch of the kiss rocked her back on her heels, and made her wonder if little beams of sunlight were shooting out of her fingertips. He caught her chin in his hand, smiled down at her. Definitely worth it.

Cut it out.

Nice work, stud.

They both glanced over at the sidewalk sleeper huddled in a nearby doorway. The womanor Eve thought it was a woman as she was bundled in so many mixing layers she resembled a small, patchwork mountainoffered a grin and a thumbs-up. Eve jammed a finger into Roarkes chest to dismiss any notion of an encore. Go away now.

Absolutely worth the trip. Good hunting, Lieutenant.

He strolled off, and she peeled away to the entrance of the morgue. But when she couldnt resist a glance back at him, she saw him stop and crouch down to speak to the sidewalk sleeper. Curious, she slowed her pace to keep him in view a moment longer, and wasnt surprised to see him dig something out of his pocket and pass it over. Credits, she supposed, and probably more than the sleeper generally pulled in over the course of a week. Shed probably buy brew with it instead of a bed out of the cold, Eve thought. He had to know that, and still& And still, she thought, pleased to love a man whod toss a handful of credits into the void, just in case. Thinking of that, she walked into the house where death always had a room. 3

IN A ROOM OF WHITE TILE AND BRIGHT STEEL,Chief Medical Examiner Morris stood unruffled and stylish over Thomas Anderss corpse. Hed teamed a rust-colored shirt with a dull gold shirt, and mirrored those tones with the thin rope worked through his long, dark braid. His clever face with its long eyes and hard planes was half covered with goggles while his skilled fingers gently lifted out the liver Anders no longer had any use for. He set the organ aside on the scale, then offered Eve a welcoming smile. A traveler stops by a farmhouse to ask for shelter for the night.

Why?

Morris wagged a bloody finger. The farmer tells the traveler he can share a room with the farmers daughter, if he keeps his hands to himself. The traveler agrees, goes into the room, and in the dark slips into bed beside the farmers daughter. And, of course, breaks his word. In the morning, guilty, the traveler offers to pay the farmer for the hospitality, but the farmer waves this off. So the traveler says he hopes he didnt disturb the daughter in the night. Unlikely, the farmer replies, as were burying her today.

Eve let out a snort. Sick death humor.

A specialty of the house. And it seemed apt under the circumstances. He gestured toward Anderss stubborn erection.

Yeah, how about that?

Somehow sad and enviable at the same time. Im running tox, but unless your dead is a medical marvel, we can presuppose he was loaded with happy cock aids. Then after he achieved liftoff, the strategically placed rings trapped the blood supply at thesticking point.

Gee, Morris, Im just a cop. Youre confusing me with all these complicated medical terms.

He laughed, then removed a thin section of the liver. We see death erections fairly routinely, particularly in stranglings or hangings, as the blood in the torso tries to obey the laws of gravity and travels down. The erectile tissue fills with it, and expands. But once the bodys moved, as our friends here was, it dissipates.

Yeah, and people noticed guys got boners when they were publicly hanged, back in the good old days, and thought: Hey, maybe if I choke myself during sex Ill make really good wood. People are really stupid.

Difficult to argue that point, as you and I often see them at their most terminally stupid. So, as to our current guest: Eroticor auto-erotic if youre going soloasphyxiation decreases oxygen, and pumps up the endorphins to heighten sexual pleasure. Its responsible for a considerable number of accidental deaths annually, and many deaths that are officially termed suicide.

This wasnt suicide.

No, indeed. Morris looked down on Anders. I believe it took him between fifteen and twenty minutes to die, slowly choking. Yet, theres no bruising on his wrists or ankles. However cushioned the rope, when a man slowly chokes to death hell fight, hell struggle, and velvet restraints or not, there would be ligature marks. Even here. He gestured again, then offered Eve a pair of microgoggles. Here, where the rope tightened, cut in, cut off his oxygen, theres no evidence he fought against it, writhed, strained. The bruising here is almost uniform.

So he just lay there and died.

Essentially.

Even if a guy wants to self-terminate, the body fights it.

Exactly so. Unless

It cant. How long for the tox?

I flagged it. But I can give you something now. Look here.

She bent over Anders again, scanning the bruising under the right ear until she saw it. The faint, circular mark was nearly obscured by the more traumatic bruising. Pressure syringe.

Yes, my bright young student. An odd place for self-medicatingespecially by a right-handerwhich he was.

Shoving up the goggles, Eve put herself back in Anderss bedroom. Killer comes in, crosses to the bed. Sealed up, all sealed up, booties over the feet to muffle any sound. Lots of thick carpet anyway. Tranqs Anders while hes sleeping. Quick, clean. Guy couldve slept right through thateven if he started to wake up, a good tranq would take him under in seconds. Then you truss him up, set the scene, walk out, and leave him to die. Pick up the security discs. Youve already shut down the system, but you take the discs. Youre either anal or hoping were just incredibly stupid and thatll throw us off and make us think it was an accident.

Incredibly stupid we arent.

Either way, hes dead. She paced away, among the steel and comps, back again. If youre going there to do the guy, why just tranq him? Why not load him up so he ODs? Okay, you dont slit his throat or beat him to death with a bat because maybe youre squeamish, or you prefer more passive methods. But why the elaborate and demeaning when a lethal dose of barbs or poison or any number of substances wouldve done the job?

It was too personal for that.

She nodded, appreciating a like mind, and her grin was fierce. See? Incredibly stupid we arent. As soon as you get the tox back, Morris.

As soon as.

When she strode into the Homicide bullpen at Cop Central, Eve saw Peabody sucking down something from a mug the size of the Indian Ocean while she worked at her desk. It reminded Eve that she was probably about a quart low on coffee. She signaled her partner, jerked a thumb toward her office, and turning, nearly plowed into one of her detectives.

Make a hole, Baxter.

Need a sec.

Then fall in line. She moved through to her office with its single, stingy window, battered desk, and sagging visitors chair. And hit the AutoChef for coffee. Taking the first slug, she studied Baxter over the rim. He was slick, savvy, and smart enough to wait to have his say until shed kicked in some caffeine. Whats your deal?

Case I caught about a couple months ago, its stalled.

Refresh me.

Guy gets his throat slashed and his works sliced off in a rent-by-the-hour flop down on Avenue D.

Yeah. She flipped through the files in her head. Came in with a woman nobody remembers, and nobody remembers seeing said woman leaving.

Maid service, and I use the term loosely, found him the next morning. Custer, Ned, age thirty-eight, worked in building maintenance for an office building downtown. Guy left a wife and two kids.

Cherchez la femme, Eve said, thinking of Peabodys comment that morning.

Ive beencherchezing the damnfemme.Got zip. Nobody remembers hernot clearly. We dug, found the barusing that term loosely, too, where they hooked up, but other than her being a redhead with a sense she was a pro, nobody can paint her picture. Guy was a player. A little pushing with his friends and associates got that much. He screwed around regular, cruised bars and clubs once or twice a week to scoreusually paying for it. The kid and I, he continued, speaking of his aide, Officer Troy Trueheart, weve put in hours trolling dumps, dives, and dens of iniquity. Were stalled, Dallas. Its going stone-cold.

What about the wife? Did she know he was dipping strange?

Yeah. Baxter blew out a breath. It didnt take more than a poke to get her to cop to it. And to admit they fought about it. He tuned her up now and then, too. She copped to that, and neighbors verified.

Maybesheshouldve cut his dick off.

Yeah, yeah, women always go for the jewels. She didnt though. When he didnt come home by midnight, she tried his link, left messages until nearly three. TOD was about one-thirty, and weve got her tagging him from her home unit at one-fifteen, again at one-forty. Pissed off, crying, and nowhere near Avenue D. Shes better off, seems to me. But I hate to lose one.

Hit the flop again, push the street LCs who use it, or work the bars in the neighborhood. How about transpo?

No cabs letting off fares on that block, and nothing popped on the underground surveillance. We figured they hoofed it, and thats how we zeroed in on the bar.

Make the rounds again, get meaner. Any chance he was into something nastier than banging strange?

Nothings popped. Blue-collar asshole, pissing it away on cheap brew and loose women with a nice wife and a couple of cute kids at home. The thing is, Dallas, it was a cold kill. One slice. Baxter mimed cutting his own throat. From behind. Then the bastard drops, but hes still alive, according to the ME, when she cuts off his dick. She had to be freaking covered with blood, but theres no trail, not out the door, not out the window and fire escape. Not a drop.

Cleaned up after.

No blood in the sink, no trace in the tap, the pipes. It reads like she came prepared, like she maybe sealed up, or changed. Like she had this in mind from the jump. Ive knocked on women hes known to have dicked around with, who might be pissed off, but thats nowhere.

Give it another push. Ill take a look at the file as soon as I get a chance. Fresh eyes.

Appreciate that.

When he left, Eve stepped over to her desk. Her link indicated she had eight messages. A chunk of them, she knew, would be from media hounds. A rich guy buys it in his own home, it started the trickle that often became a flood. And the details of how would leak, she knew that, too. Nobodys finger was big enough to plug the hole in the dike when the flood was that juicy.

All clear? Peabody asked from the doorway.

Yeah.

Baxter wanted to talk about the Avenue D case? Truehearts run some of it by me, Peabody continued. Nothings gelling.

Theyll go back around, work it again. Whatve you got for me?

Benedict Forrestwhose mother really was eaten by a shark. Or severely chewed on by one. He was six at the time, and living in New York under the care of a nanny and numerous servants. Mother was quite the adrenaline junkie, from what Ive got. Name the life-threatening activity, she gave it a whirl. Thirty-five at TOD, twice divorced, one child. When she ended up the main course for Jaws, Anders applied for custody and guardianship, and as the biological father didnt contest, same was granted.

How much did Anders pay him? The bio dad?

Five million, apparently. The guy spends most of his time cruising around hot spots in Europe, hadnt seen the kid since the divorcefour years plus before the mother died. Hes been married three times since, and is currently living in the south of France. Just doesnt feel like he plays into this.

How much of a financial interest did the mother have in the company?

None. She took a buyout from her father in lieu. And she was smart enoughor vindictive enoughto arrange her trust and assets so even if the father took the kid, after her death, he couldnt touch a penny of the kids take. Anders took the kid, supported, educated, and housed him on his own nickel.

Pausing, Peabody glanced down at her notes. Forrest came into a nice chunk of change when he turned twenty-one, another portion at twenty-five, another at thirty. He has an MBA from Harvard, where he also played baseball and lacrosse. He worked his way up the ranks at Anders from a junior exec to his current position as Chief Operating Officer.

Any criminal?

Nada. Pretty regular hits for speeding, and a shitload of parking tickets, all paid up.

Eve sat back, swiveled in her desk chair. Give me the wife.

Ava Montgomery Anders, who I confirmed was in her hotel suite on St. Lucia when contacted about trouble at home. She booked a shuttle after the transmission. Theres no record of her leaving the island by any mode prior. Born Portland, Oregon, in 2008, upper-middle-class all the way. Previous marriage to one Dirk Bronson in 2032, ended in divorce in 2035. No offspring. Earned degrees in business and public relations from Brownscholarshipwhich she put to use as the PR rep for Anders WorldwideChicago base, where she relocated after her divorce. Then she transferred to the New York office in 2041. She and Anders married in 44. She currently serves as the companys goodwill ambassador, serving on the board of Everybody Plays, Anders Worldwides organization founded to provide facilities, training, and equipment for children, ah, worldwide. And serving as chairman of Moms, Too, a program that offers educational seminars, workshops, networking opportunities, and so on to mothers of kids in Everybody Plays. No criminal on her either, and shes worth about ten million in her own right.

Peabody lowered her notebook. I could give you Greta Horowitz, but everything she told us runs true. I was about to start on Leopold Walsh, but I must find food. I can find you food, too. Peabody smiled hugely. How about a nice sandwich?

How about we find out where the hell some of the reports are, and why theyre not on my desk? I want Eve broke off as her computer signaled an incoming. Morris comes through, she murmured.

And while youre singing the praises of our ME, Ill go hunt and gather.

Computer, display incoming on screen, copy to open file, and print.

Multitask acknowledged. Working& As the computer hummed, Eve scanned the toxicology report. Well, Jesus, Tommy, she stated, you didnt have a snowballs chance, did you?

While it printed, she engaged her link to harass the sweepers for a preliminary, and because her mind was elsewhere, answered her link when it signaled a few minutes later.

Dallas.

You dont call, you dont write.

Nadine. Eve didnt bother to curse herself as she stared into the sharp green eyes of the citys hottest reporter. The fact that they were friends made it convenientor inconvenient, depending on the circumstances. Gosh, Id just love to chat, but Im about to do lunch. Then maybe Ill have a manicure.

Thats so cute. You caught a hot one, Dallas, just the kind of case we love to spotlight onNow. Tomorrow night. Youll lead off, a full ten-minute segment.

Again, gosh, but I have to have my eyes put out with a hot poker tomorrow night. Otherwise&

Thomas Anderss murder is big news, Dallas.

We havent determined or announced the death as murder.

Thats not what I hear. Strangled, in bed, with considerable kink attached. If not murder, was it accidental death during sex games?

So the trickle was already a flood, Eve thought. You know better, Nadine.

A girls gotta try. He was a nice guy, Dallas. Id like to cover this right.

You knew him?

I did a few features on him, his wife, his nephew over the years. Thats not really knowing someone, but what I did know, I liked. Tabloid mediaand a lot of other mediais going to pump up the sex, you know this. I cant avoid it, but I want to be evenhanded. So help me.

Not this time. But Ill give you Peabody. You wont screw with her, or the investigation. And she needs to develop her media chops. So you help her.

Thats a deal. Ill have my people get in touch with her, but tell her I need her here, at the studio, by five tomorrow.

Nadine, in five words or less, sum up your take on the relationship between Anders and his wife, and Anders and his nephew.

With the wife, affectionate and proud. The same for the nephew, but even more so. I remember asking Anders what he considered his finest accomplishment. He turned a photo around that he kept on his deskone of his nephew. Youre looking at him, is what he said. I ended the piece with it.

Thanks. Eve clicked off, glanced over as Peabody clomped in with an armload of food.

We got your pretend-Im-turkey wraps, soy chips, and these cute little tubs of veggie hash. I got you a tube of Pepsi.

Eve watched while Peabody set food on her desk, tidily organizing debris to make room. What are you angling for, Peabody?

Angling? Just making sure you dont forget to eat. Youre always forgetting to eat, which is why youre skinny as a snake. Which looks great on you. Peabodys gaze darted up and away while she added a napkin and plastic fork. Then her breath huffed out as Eve continued to give her the fish-eye. Okay, okay. Maybe I was hoping, if were not on the tail of some hot lead or whatever, you could find it in your big, generous heart to

Cut the crap.

I want to leave early, take an hours personal time. McNab and I have a date.

You and McNab live together.

Yeah, well, see, thats kind of the point. Peabody dragged the visitors chair over, picked up her wrap, and chowed down. We realized we didnt want the cohab thing to take the romance out of things. The spark. So we instituted Date Night. Tonights the first, so I really want to get home in time to buff myself up. Special, you know? Kick him in the balls special.

If you want to kick him in the ballsand I often want to myselfyou should stay home.

Dallas.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Take the hour, buff and polish, kick him in the balls.

Thanks. Were going to this club, and not one of those bump-and-fuck joints, Peabody added, gesturing with a soy chip before popping it into her mouth to crunch. But where you actually go to listen to music and dance with each other and stuff. I really want to look extreme, so you know, need that hour.

Fine. Youll be making it up tomorrow. You need to report to Nadines studio at Channel 75 at seventeen hundred.

Whafo? Peabody asked with a mouthful of veggie hash.

Shell interview you on the Anders case, so make sure youre

What? On the air? Me? She choked, whistled out a breath while her eyes wheeled, then glugged down Diet Pepsi. No.

Youll be representing the department, and this division, so dont screw it up.

But&But people watchNow. Practically everybody. I cant

Screw it up. Exactly. It was small, it was mean, but Eve couldnt deny Peabodys reaction made the pretend turkey almost tasty. Nadine has respect for cops, and for the process, but shes still a reporter. Shes sneaky. Dont forget that. You give the facts Ill clear you to give, and the feel, your own take, but when she presses youand she willon investigative details, you block. Standard, Im not at liberty.

Faintly green now, Peabody pressed a hand to her belly. I think Im going to be sick.

You boot on my desk, Ill throw your gagging body out my window. You wont have to worry about going on screen.

Cant you do it? Youre used to it.

No, I cant do it, and you need to get used to it.

I dont know what to wear.

Oh sweet, suffering Christ. Eve pressed her fingers against the twitching muscle beside her eye. Window, Peabody. Headfirst.

You couldnt fit me through that stupid window.

Lets find out.

Okay, okay, okay. Now my heads all screwed up.

Unscrew it. Weve got a few matters just a smidge more important than your date night and on-air debut. The vic was tranqedtwice.

Whatwho. Wait. Closing her eyes, Peabody took several deep breaths. Anders. Okay, Im back. Anders was tranqed?

Pressure syringe. Eve tapped her finger on the side of her neck. Heavy dose of barbs, enough to knock out a horse. There were also traces of a sleep aid, standard over-the-counter. Preliminary take is this was ingested, probably three to four hours before TOD. The combo dropped him out. The killer couldve performed brain surgery on him, and Anders wouldnt have noticed.

Why not just give him a fatal dose? Why the big show?

Good question, and one of the reasons I havent yet thrown you headfirst out the window. The show was as important as the murder. Disgrace? Revenge? A discarded lover who wanted him to pay? Is it smart, or is it sloppy?

Peabody considered that over another chip. If you wanted it to come off as it looked on the surfaceaccidental death due to erotic asphyxiationyou dont load him up with barbs. Maybe a mild tranq, sure, to disorient him while you do the bondage. Take your time after that, set the scene, let the tranq wear off some. If youre going to go to all that trouble, it seems like you want him to suffer. If you want him to suffer, why knock him out so he cant?

More good questions. Youre redeeming yourself. Im going to send the file to Dr. Mira. Id like her profile and opinion on this. Could be the killer overdid the barbs. He had a massive dose of erectile enhancer in there, too.

It feels personal, but lets run it through IRCCA for like crimes. Well start trying to run down the restraints, the tranq. And well do a second level on financials. Forrest and the widow are the most likely to benefit financially. Theyve both got a solid base on their own, but who doesnt like more? And lets look for old and current lovers. Guy waits until hes well into his forties to do the marriage thing, he probably didnt say I do without banging a few prospects first.

I can give EDD another goose, see if weve got anything there.

I want copies of any transmissions between the vic and his wife, his nephew. Have them round up the links from his office.

Lieutenant? Trueheart, Baxters young and studly aide, tapped lightly on the doorjamb. Sorry to interrupt your lunch, but theres an Edmond Luce out here. He wants to talk to you regarding the Anders case. Seems pretty worked up, and&a lot British.

Eve dumped the remains of her wrap onto Peabodys plate, shoved her own into the recycler. Give me a minute, then send him back.

Yes, sir.

Ditch this stuff, Peabody, then goose EDD, and give one to the lab while youre at it. Minimum, I want a report of any and all medications and enhancements taken from the scene.

On that. Gathering up the rest of the remains, Peabody headed out.

Computer, standard bio run on Luce, Edmond, British, with business or personal connection to Anders, Thomas A., of Anders Worldwide. Display only.

Acknowledged. Working& While she waited, Eve sent the case file and a quick memo to Dr. Charlotte Mira, the departments top profiler. Task complete. Data displayed. Eve scanned quickly, looking for the quick overview. Luce, London-born, was seventy-six, and served as Anders Worldwides CEO, Great Britain. Oxford education, homes in London and in New York. Married, with one previous divorce, three children. One from first marriage.

Copy data to file, she ordered when she heard approaching footsteps. End display.

Acknowledged. Tasks complete. She swiveled to face the doorway as it was filled with a big, burly bear of a man with a shock of hair the color of good sterling and eyes of nearly black that sparked off something approaching rage. He wore khaki trousers with pleats sharp enough to draw blood and a navy V neck over a white shirt. Upscale golf clothes, Eve decided. Anders missed tee time.

Youre Lieutenant Dallas?

Thats right. Mr. Luce, what can I do for you?

You can tell me why the bloody hell youre smearing the reputation of a good man. Why youre spreading these salacious and scandalous lies about Tommy. The mans dead, goddamn it all, and cant defend himself against this slander.

Mr. Luce, I can assure you I havent as yet given any statement, officially or unofficially, to the media regarding the investigation into Mr. Anderss death. Nor have I authorized anyone to do so.

Then why in hell is it all over the bleeding screen?

Eve leaned back. Im not responsible for what the media digs out and chooses to air. It may piss me off, but Im not responsible. You suffered a sudden and shocking loss, so Im going to cut you a break for coming into my office and blowing off steam. Now that you have, sit down. I have some questions.

I suggest you take your questions and

Careful, Eve said with enough steel in the word to have Luce pausing, narrowing those furious eyes on her face.

What are you going to do? Lock me up?

Casually, Eve swiveled back and forth in her chair. I like the worddetainmyself. Would you care to be detained, Mr. Luce, by the NYPSD for refusing to answer questions in a homicide investigation? Id be happy to put you in holding until your attorney arrives. Otherwise, you can sit down and you can settle down. I figure you and Anders were more than business associates. You might be upset, sad, surprised by his death if thats all you were. You might be surprised again, and shocked, fascinated, or angry with the media attention. But rage and grief come from more personal associations. So this is your second, and last break. Clear enough?

He turned and walked away, but to her window, not out the door. She said nothing as he stood there, his rigid back to her. I cant settle down. How could I settle down? Tommy&weve been friends for nearly fifty years. Hes godfather to my son. I stood up for him when he married Ava. He was my younger brother, in every way but blood.

Im very sorry, Mr. Luce, for your loss.

He glanced back at her. How many times have you said that to someone, to strangers?

Too many. Entirely too many. It doesnt make it less true.

He turned now, pressed his fingers to his eyes. We were to play golf this morning. The indoor nine at Tommys club. Hes never late, but I didnt think anything of it when he was. Traffic is so brutal, and Id run into an acquaintance. We ended up chatting for some time, until the caddy interrupted to ask if I wanted to cancel or reschedule the tee off.

Did you try to contact him?

On his mobilehis personal mobile, but it went to voice messaging. So I tried his house. He did sit now, big shoulders slumping. Greta, the house manager, told me thered been an accident. Told me Tommy was&

When was the last time you saw him?

Three weeks ago. He and Ava were in London briefly. Tommy and I had a meeting, and we all went to the theater. We played golf at my clubhe loves golfwhile our wives went shopping, or something. Maybe salon. I dont remember.

When did you get into New York?

Yesterday afternoon. My wife and I arrived about two. Our son, Tommys godchild, works for the New York branch. We had dinner with Harry and his family. Theyve just remodeled their brownstone, and wanted to show it off, of course. Its quite lovely, our daughter-in-law& He trailed off, looked back at Eve. I have no idea why Im telling you that.

When did you last speak to Mr. Anders?

On the flight over. We confirmed our golf date. The last thing I said to him, was: Brace yourself, Tommy. Im going to clean your clock.

His face reddened, his eyes filled. For the next few moments, he sat breathing hard as he struggled for composure. Why are they saying such horrid things about him? Isnt it enough hes gone, that a good man is gone?

No, its not, and it wont be until we know why. Thats my job. Who wished him harm?

I dont know. He could be tough in business, but he was never unfair. He watched the competition, of course, and was a competitive man. But he played by the rules. He believed in rules.

And in his personal life? Did he play by the rules?

The wide face reddened again, but with temper. I wont have you implying

Im not implying anything. Obviously you know something of the circumstances of his death. If you know who had access to his home, his bedroom, I need a name. Or names.

He leaned forward, fierce as a lion. Tommy would not cheat on Ava. On anyone.

A great many people engage in affairs and sexual activity outside marriage. And a great many of them dont consider it cheating. She shrugged. Just sex, means nothing. Nobodys hurt.

His mouth tightened, pure derision. Perhaps you can live your life by thosestandards. Tommy didnt.

Then who might want me to think he did?

I dontknow. If anyone harbored such violent feelings toward him, if anyone had threatened him, he didnt tell me.

Would he have?

I hope he would.

To your knowledge, did he fire anyone, rebuff anyone?

By rebuff, youre speaking of a sexual proposition. Luce let out a short laugh. I cant imagine a woman approaching Tommy that way. But I suppose&He was fit, charming in his way, wealthy. I suppose. But he never mentioned that sort of thing either. Of course, its possible he didnt mention it in order to spare the other party the embarrassment and not to open the door to teasing. I would have teased him, Luce admitted, unmercifully.

As to firing, most terminations would be up to the individual department heads and supervisors. I dont know of any major dismissals, not recently. Ben would have a better handle on that.

Can you tell me who benefits financially?

I can and I will because this wasnt about money. What was done to him&couldnt have been about money. Both Ava and Ben will receive Tommys shares of Anders. Ben will hold the majority, as Tommy did after his own fathers death. Ava will get the house in New York, the estate in the Hamptons, and the pied-à-terre in Paris, and all contents therein unless specifically bequested to others. Ben will inherit Tommys yacht, a number of his personal possessionshis collection of golf clubs, but for an antique set he left specifically to me. Theres a house on the coast of South Carolina that will go to him, and the London townhouse. Theyll also divide, in equal shares, his portfolio, after other bequests are made.

You know the details.

Yes, I know the details. I witnessed the paperwork, and he insisted I read it through first. If you dont read, you dont signthat was Tommy. Lieutenant, I visited both Ava and Ben at the house this afternoonafter&Believe me, theyre in deep mourning. He was loved. Tommy was loved.

4

TO SATISFY HERSELF, EVE DETOURED TO THEAnders house on the way home. The traffic, as Luce had said, was brutal, but she didnt mind. The stops, starts, stalls, gave her time to think. The bad-tempered blare of horns, the occasional fist or middle finger shooting out of a window, the snarling or desperate faces of fellow drivers all reminded her why she loved New York even when it was frozen in the bitter, bitter grasp of endless winter. Glide-cart operators, bundled up like Arctic explorers, worked with their fingerless gloves over smoking grills, and the smokeif she cracked her window enough to catch itsmelled of chestnuts and soy dogs and grease. Animated billboards, as they had been all winter, hyped tropical getaways where scantily clad models frolicked in the surf, or families so bright and happy they struck Eve as just a little terrifying built elaborate castles in the sand. YOU DESERVE IT!! was the battle cry. To Eves mind, people all too often didnt get what they deserved. Thomas Anders certainly hadnt after hed tucked into bed for the last time, so it was her job to make sure he got what he deserved now. Justice. Maybe he was the paragon of decency his friend and family described, or the secret sexual perv his style of death portrayed. More likely, hed been something in between. Wherever he landed on the human scale, he was due justice. She hunted up a parking spot, and hoofed it the half block crosstown to the Anders home. Since the wind bit at every inch of exposed skin, she wondered why Peabody was so juiced about getting dressed up and going back out again. Once home, Eve thought, nobody was prying her out of the warmth. Outside, she gave the security system another gander. Palm plate, she noted, key swipe, voice recognition, full perimeter camera scans. Basic standards for a high-end system. And the code, she recalled, changed every ten days. No signs of external tampering. When the door opened, Greta stood on the other side. Its after one, Eve commented. It took Greta only a moment. Yes. Yes, it is usually my half day. Mr. Forrest asked if I would arrange to stay through the afternoon, perhaps into the evening. Mrs. Anders needs me.

I assume shes in.

She is. She and Mr. Forrest are in the family parlor. If you could wait here, Lieutenant, Ill let them know.

Fine. Greta, who else has been here today?

Many police.

Other than.

Mr. and Mrs. Edmond Luce. Ms. Plowder and Ms. Bride-West, both friends of Mrs. Anders whod traveled to St. Lucia with her. Naturally, they cut their trip short to come back, to be here for her. There have been many calls of condolence, of course, but Mr. BenMr. Forrest and I are screening those. Several reporters attempted to gain admittance, or to contact the family. They were sent away or refused.

Good on the last. You should keep doing that. Ill wait here.

Greta moved through the wide room off the foyer, through an archway. Alone, Eve glanced up the stairs. The master suite and some of the second level would be sealed. No one other than a cop with a master could enter the bedroom, or adjoining room by any access until Eve cleared the scene. She wondered why the widow didnt opt to stay with a friend, or even in an anonymous hotel suite until that time. Ben came through the archway, crossed to her. Sorrow coated him, Eve thought, like oil that might stain anyone he brushed up against. Eve thought if grief had a face, his fit the bill.

Lieutenant. Is this necessary? Avas&shes having a very hard time of it.

I understand this is difficult. Im afraid NYPSD will be in and out of the house for some time yet, and several areas will remain sealed. You may want to try to persuade Ms. Anders to stay with friends for the next few days.

Im working on that. I think she feels shes deserting him somehow, if she doesnt stay here. Brigita friendoffered Ava her guest suite for however long she needs it. I think Ive nearly convinced her to go. They called from&the morgue. They told us we cant have him yet.

It takes time.

We can go there and see him. I thought, if shes up to it, the sooner we do that, the better.

Youre probably right.

Id take her. She needs to&We both need to& He trailed off, shook his head. Do you know, can you tell me, if you know&

Its very early yet, Mr. Forrest. Were actively pursuing all lines of investigation.

It seems like days. I know its only been hours, but it seems like days. Sorry. He rubbed his fingers over exhausted eyes. I looked you up. There was something familiar, but I couldnt think. I just couldnt think clearly this morning. But I looked you up. Roarkes cop.

The NYPSD considers me their cop.

I didnt mean

Its all right.

I mean to say, youre supposed to be the best there is. You solved the Icove case, and you caught that maniac who was kidnapping and mutilating those women. Youll find who did this to Uncle Tommy. Now, riding with grief was a plea. You wont give up.

I dont give up. Eve looked past him as Ava came into the room.

Cant we have a few hours? Cant we have any time alone? Must you people be here?

Ava. Ben rushed to her side, took her weight when she slumped against him. The police are doing their job. We need them to do their job.

Theyve made him a joke. Theyve made his death a joke.

No. Ben turned her into his arms, stroked her back. Ssh, now.

Take me to Brigits, Ben. Take me away from here. I cant bear it. I cant stay here.

All right. Thats what Ill do. He glanced at Eve, who pointed to herself, then upstairs. Nodding, he led Ava away. Though shed have preferred an empty house, Eve walked back to the front door. She imagined the dark, the quality of it in the odd blue glow of the security lights. An efficient killer would have already sealed up, hair, hands, shoes. Extra protection, extra soundproofing with booties over the shoes. No chance of leaving any sort of print. Directly upstairs, she thought. Down to businesspriority business, she decided as she climbed the stairs. No squeaks, she noted, no creaks. Solid construction. Straight to the master bedroom, no detours. The door would be closed, as it was now. Not sealed though, she thought as she used her master to uncode the police seal. She turned the knob, eased the door open. Again, it was soundless. Privacy shields over the windows, she recalled, and heavy blackout drapes over that. Tommy liked to sleep in his snug cave. Pitch-black. It would be pitch-black. Even someone knowing the room intimately couldnt be sure how the victim would be positioned in the bed. A pin light would be enough, she mused. Just a thin beam to show the way. Because she didnt want to be disturbed, she closed and locked the door behind her. Lights on, she ordered, and took the time to arrange the room as it would have been for the killer. Lights off, she ordered when she stood back at the door, and flipping on a pin light, used it to cross to the bed. Syringe first. Knock him out. Did he stir? Feel that quick little nip over the skin? Count to tenit doesnt take longcount to ten, slow and steady. What are you thinking? she wondered. Excitement, fear? Not rage, cant be rage. Hes already beyond you, you saw to that, so its not rage. Turn the lights back on now. No need to work in the dark. Lights on, fire on, Eve ordered. Did you bring the rope, or did he have that tucked away? You brought it. Have to be sure, cant screw up now. You have to have all the tools at hand. Was he nude already, or did you strip him? If you stripped him, where did you put the sleep clothes. A trophy? Wrists first. Do you feel his breath, his heavy, drugged breath on your skin when you bind his wrists? Theyre limp, deadweight. Hes already helpless, but you have a stage to set. Wrists first. Then the ankles. Set out the toys. Time for the next dose. You want him hard. Slide the rings on his cock. How do you feel, fondling him when hes helpless? Enjoyment or disgust? Or neither. Is it all just the next step now? Takes time, all this window dressing. Takes time, and effort. Have to get into bed with death now to finish it. Eve hitched up, braced a knee on the bed. Not enough leverage, she decided, and climbed on until she knelt beside her mind picture of Anders, imagined tying the last rope, winding it around his neck. Heavy head. Secure the second end of the rope and the head falls forward. It practically does the work for you. She eased off the bed again, smoothed out any depression. Study the work, she mused, go over your checklist. Hows his breathing? Is it already changing? Is his system already sending out alarm signals his mind and body cant answer? Pack up the light, the syringes, walk away. Leave the door open. Unlike the killer, Eve locked and sealed it. When she walked downstairs, her mind still walking alongside the killer, she saw Greta sitting stiff-spined in a chair in the foyer.

Mr. Forrest asked if Id stay, in case you needed anything. Hes taken Mrs. Anders to Ms. Plowders home.

No, Ive got all I need. You should go home.

Yes, I should go home. She put on the serviceable coat draped over her arm.

Greta, what did Mr. Anders wear in bed?

I beg your pardon!

There were pajamas in his drawer. You supervise the laundry, correct?

IYes, of course. Mr. Anders wore sensible pajamas. A fresh pair daily, pressed. No starch.

How many pairs did he have?

At last count, which would have been Monday last, Mr. Anders owned ten pairs of all-cotton pajamas.

Ten pairs. Did Mr. Anders routinely use sleep aids?

I wouldnt know. Im sorry. I have purchased them from time to time, as I do the marketing, the shopping. I cant say if either Mr. or Mrs. Anders used them, or if that was routine use.

Okay. Youve been very helpful.

Greta fit a gray hat over her head. Being helpful is what I do.

When the door closed behind Greta, Eve stood where she was and let it settle around her. The quiet, the sensation of empty. Turning, she walked through the foyer, took the left hall. Rooms, she thought, the more money somebody had the more rooms he needed to keep the stuff he spent his money on. And the more money and more rooms and more stuff, the more security to stop somebody from coming in and robbing you blind. Anderss security room was off the kitchen, another locked door requiring its own keypad or code. Eve used her master, opened it. Inside were the screens for inner security, and those for outer. All ran now. Figuring security could afford a quick breach with a cop in the house, she checked the code EDD had given her, keyed it in. The current disc for the exterior front ejected. She tapped it back in, glanced over at the empty disc file. Load em up, she thought. Cover all contingencies. Go out, lock the room. Why? Just being orderly? She strode back to the front door, took a last glance around. Stepping out, she relocked, resealed. Then looked at her wrist unit. Taking time out for the three-minute conversation with Greta, from entry to exit, the reenactment had taken just under forty minutes. Adding in time to strip the victim out of his sensible pajamas, shed make it a comfortable forty-five minutes. Not enough time to hunt up the security room and bypass the code, not in a house this size. Not enough to hunt up the bedroom. The killer knew the layout. Not just where the master slept, but where to find the security discs. Closed the security room door, she thought, striding back to her car, but left the bedroom door open. Turned the lights out, but left the fire going. In her car she ordered the heat on blast furnace, then took out her book to make some notes while they were fresh in her mind. And, only ninety minutes past the end of her shift, she bulled her way into traffic and headed home.

Speaking of a ridiculous number of rooms, she thought after driving through the big iron gates and winding up the drive. Nobody held a candle (whatever that meant) to Roarke. The house was a stunner, lording over sky and city, windows blazing hot, cold stars dripping overhead. A couple of years before, she never would have believed she could live in a place so&spectacular, much less live there comfortably. But she did. And pulling up in front of that vast stone beauty, leaving her cops ride out in front where Roarkes majordomo, Summerset, would sneer at it, rated as one of the favorite parts of her day. Any day. She climbed out of the stuffy car, jogged through cold air, and into the light-and warmth-drenched house. Hewas there, of course. Lurking. The bony beanpole in a black suit who ran the house, and kept her mildly irritated like a sand-covered pebble in a shoe.

Lieutenant, he said in a tone that scraped along the back of her neck like nails over a blackboard. Youre late, as usual.

Youre ugly, as usual. But Ive learned to make allowances.

As she stripped off her coat, the fat cat Galahad gave Summersets skinny ankle a last body rub, then padded over to Eve. She tossed her coat over the newel post, bent to give the cat a quick scratch between the ears. Duties done, she headed upstairs, with Galahad at her heels. In the bedroom Roarke was stripped down to trousers and holding a black sweater. Now theres timing, he said. Maybe I shouldnt bother with this. He wagged the sweater. And see how fast I can get you half naked instead.

Eyes narrowed, she pointed a finger at him. How long have you been home?

About ten minutes, Id think.

See that! See! Now she pointed a finger of both hands. Why amIlate according to His Boniness, but youre only minutes ahead of me and dont get sneered at.

How do you know I wasnt sneered at?

Because I know. Were you?

I wasnt, no. But then I did have a message sent home that Id be a bit late.

She sniffed. Suck-up.

He smiled. Come over here and say that.

Im not bouncing on you now. Ive got notes to organize. She pulled off her weapon harness, draped it over the back of a chair. Media shits hit the public fan over how Anders died. I need to try to plug some holes.

I made a statement myself.

You what? A statement? What? Why? Why didnt you run it by me before

I knew the man, and his corporate headquarters is in my building. I know how to make a statement, Eve. I had some experience in the process before I met you.

Right. Right. She rubbed a spot between her eyebrows. Its just. The whole thing smells.

Of?

Overkill. I gotta& She twirled a finger in the air. Until something settles into place for me.

You can he mimicked her gesture with me. I suppose you can bounce on me later, and for now we can have a meal at your desk.

I could use the ear. She studied him as he pulled on the sweater. It was kind of a shame he needed one. Are we supposed to date?

Date what?

Each other.

He sent her a look that combined amusement, charm, and bafflement. She wondered how he managed it. As in I take you out, there is some form of activity, then I drop you off at the door with a long, hopeful good-night kiss?

No. She frowned. We never did that anyway.

I knew I forgot something. He skimmed a finger down the cleft in her chin. Should I ask you out on a date, darling Eve?

Look, I just wondered about it, thats all. Peabody started this whole thing about could she take an hours personal to get polished up because she and McNab had this date-night deal going so they wouldnt lose the juice.

Thats very sweet. Are you wondering if were low on juice? He took her hand, drew it to his lips.

No. Why such a deliberately romantic gesture caused tingles straight up her arm, she didnt know. I just wondered if thats the sort of thing youre supposed to do when youre married awhile. And you spend a lot of evenings with work.

We like work, dont we?

Yeah, we do. She moved in, grabbed his hair with her fists and pulled his mouth to hers. She put some heat behind itit was the least she could doand felt the tingle up her arm arrow to her belly. She ended the kiss with a quick, light nip.

Plenty of juice in reserve, she decided. She laid her hands on his cheeks a moment, then stepped back. And I always hated dating.

Kicked back at her desk, sharing a bottle of wine and the comforting goodness of homemade chicken pot pie struck her as just about perfect. Summerset might be a pain in her ass but the man could cook. As they ate, she rewound the facts and impressions in her head, and played them out for Roarke.

So on one hand, youve got a guy who appears to dick around on his wife of nearly sixteen years, likes the kink, and when things go wrong, the kink partner runs. But thats bogus.

Because he was drugged.

Thats the big one, but its not all. Accident, even if the killer was hired sex, there would have been some attempt to revive. The very least, you take the rope away. Then theres the pajamas.

There is?

Gretawho strikes me as spookily efficient as the Nazi downstairs, states the vic wore pjs. And had ten pairs. Count is nine. Wheres pair number ten? I have to figure the killer took them, either for a trophy, or to dispose of them away from the scene. If hes expecting company, he either has them on so the company can undress him, or he leaves them folded in the drawer where the other nine pairs were. If hes wearing them, and it was an accident, why grab them up when you run? Doesnt follow.

Maybe the killer worried there was DNA or other forensic evidence on them.

The sweepers didnt find anything anywhere else in the room. Doesnt follow. Killer was sealed. Had to be sealed. The only prints in the room were Anderss, the wifes, and the housekeepers. The few stray hairs in the bed were all his.

Putting that aside for a moment, and given its long odds considering what I know of Anders, there are some who get off on the idea of rape. Some who might enjoy the idea of being taken, forced, while theyre unconscious. The ultimate submissive.

People are sick in all kinds of ways, Eve commented. But even if he was sick that way, would anyone in their right mind go into that kind of liaison without complete trust in the partner? And with that kind of trust, would the partner leave him choking to death? He was still alive when the security booted back up. I dont see it. But on the other hand&

She paused to scoop up more pot pie. The other hand is premeditated murder. Someone whos been in the house, or had access to the setup. The killer knew where Anders slept, where the security room was, knew how to override the security. I timed it, and there wasnt room for hunting around.

She walked Roarke through, step by step, as she had done. Its cold, vindictive, uglyyou dont just want him dead, you want to mess him up after hes dead. But somethings missing in that. Wheres the springboard? Youre that vindictive, there has to be anger or hate. If youre controlled enough to strap those down, why arent you controlled enough to handle the details? The hefty dose of barbsits off. You want to humiliate him, but you dont have anything to say to him. Youre alone in the housea light tranq would be enough, give you enough to wrap him up. Dont you want him to hear whydont you have something to say, dont you want him toknow?

So thats the third hand. The sham. The killer didnt care if the stage fell apart after the curtain. The killer had nothing to say to Anders. But thats missing something. Why put on the show if you cant take the bows with a captive audience? What do you gain? Whats the damn point?

Hes dead. Whatever the window dressing, mission accomplished.

Yeah. She nodded, gesturing with her fork. And what have I got? A devoted nephew, a loving wife, steadfast friends, the efficient housekeeper. Somebodys hiding something. That somebody knew hed be alone in the house that night. Had to be sure of it. So&I dig deeper into financialssee if Anders was paying for it, or if I can find he paid for a subscription toBondage Weekly.See if the wife, the nephew had any money troubles. Gambling, illegals. Sports bettings big, she considered. Maybe Ben got in too deep.

It wont be Ben.

Doesnt feel like Ben. Doesnt mean it wont be connected to Ben. Eyeing him, she polished off her wine. You want to sign on, expert consultant, civilian, and poke into some bank accounts?

I live for these moments.

Take the wife. Ill take Ben. Then maybe well split up Anders.

Assignments, always exciting. Ive one for you. Tend to the dishes. Ill get the coffee.

It was hard to argue, especially since hed come up with the pot pie idea. She carted the dishes, stacked them in the little washer in her office kitchen, then turned and found him studying her.

What?

Awfully domestic, isnt it? A moment. Dish duty, coffee fetching, the two of us in the kitchen after a meal.

Eve glanced down to where Galahad was sniffing his bowl, obviously hoping for seconds. That would be the three of us.

Ah yes. Our little family. Reaching out, he brushed the tips of her choppy hair. A nice settled moment between the business of the day and the puzzle of the evening. It occurs to me these are moments I live for.

Her heart simply melted. I always wonder why theyre enough for you.

He laid his lips on hers, soft, sweet. You shouldnt.

The cat bumped between them, shot a leg up in the air, and began to wash his butt. With a laugh, Roarke shook his head. And so the moment ends. Your coffee, Lieutenant, he said and handed her a mug. She sat at her desk, and waited to settle as Roarke walked into his adjoining office. It remained an amazement, her personal miracle, that he loved her. Loved her because of or in spite of everything. In all the world, with all its misery, after all the pain, theyd found each other. He was right, of course. It was more than enough.

Computer, she began, and ordered the next layer in the search of Anderss financials. The rich were complicated, Eve thought, with all their many pockets inside which they tucked their booty. Stocks, bonds, trusts, tax-deferred, tax-free, liquid money, futures. Long-term, short-term. Subsets, and arms and divisions. But under it all, somehow, someway, even the rich paid bills and bought toilet paper. She scraped and she dug, searching for something to tie her victim to a lover or to licensed companions, running a secondary search for medications and/or sexual aids.

Eve.

What? She looked away from the data crowding her wall screen. Ive barely started. You cant have found something already. Its not natural.

I have, and I dont think youll like it.

What?

In Ava Anderss financials. There are regular bimonthly payments, going back for eighteen months.

For what? Her eyes narrowed. To who?

To Charles Monroe.

Charles. As it slapped at her out of left field, Eve dragged a hand through her hair. Son of a bitch. This was the trouble, she thought, this was the damn problem with making friends. It came back and bit you in the ass. Shesgetting her pipes snaked twice a month by a licensed companion?

One would assume she wasnt paying for a bridge partner.

And it just damn well has to be Charles. She sat back, let it simmer. Why does a woman who claims to love her husband need to diddle or be diddled by an LC every two weeks?

Youre not that naive. You know there are endless reasons for it.

Maybe, maybe, but Im only interested inherreasons. She rose, thinking she was about to be pried out of the warmth after all. So Ill go ask him what they are.

Now? Eve, its after ten.

LCs have flexible hours.

And hes very likely to be out with a client.

Or in with one.

If you contact him first

Hed have time to prepare. I want him off guard.

And she had a point. Ill drive.

5

IF HES IN, ISNT WITH A CLIENT, BUT WITHLouise? Roarke stepped into the elevator in the elegant lobby of Charless apartment building. Eve shrugged. Its not like she doesnt know what he does for a living. While she didnt have any problem seeing how the smart, dedicated Dr. Dimatto fell for Charlesand he for hershe couldnt quite work out how Louise so easily accepted his work.

Why doesnt it bother her? Seriously, it doesnt. Shes not putting on a front. Shes in a serious relationship with a guy who has sex with other women for a living, and it doesnt matter to her.

I married a cop. Roarke smiled at her. We all have our levels of acceptance. He was an LC when they met, just as she was a doctor, and one who often works in dangerous areas of the city.

She shot him the same easy smile. So&if Id been an LC when we met, you wouldnt have any problem with me banging other guys. Professionally.

None at all, as Id kick your ass and murder all of them. But thats just my level of acceptance.

Yes. Pleased, she jabbed a finger into his chest. Thatmakes sense to me.

Which is why were suited, darling Eve, and neither of us with Charles or Louise. If Louise is here, he added when the doors opened, would you like me to take her off somewhere for a bit?

Lets see how it plays.

And if hes with a clientas I believe he only takes femalesId be happy to engage her elsewhere while you work.

Sure, no problem. Remembering those acceptance levels, how suited we are, and how much you like having your balls kicked up to your throat.

He put an arm around her waist for a sideways hug. It is true love with us, isnt it?

Hearts and flowers, every day. She pushed the buzzer on Charless apartment door. In less than a minute, she saw the security light blink, flicked her gaze up to the camera. The light steadied to green; the door opened.

This is a nice surprise. Roarke. Lieutenant Sugar.

He stepped back in welcome. Charles Monroe was vid-star handsome, with a sheen of urban polish even in the casual at-home loose pants and sweater. His apartment with its strong colors, bold art, deep cushions reflected his easy sophistication and affection for comfort. Music, what Eve thought mightve been vintage jazz, flowed through the air.

What can I get you? Some wine? Or how about some Irish coffee? He glanced around the room as he spoke, as if checking for something hed misplaced. God knows its cold enough out there.

Were good. You alone, Charles?

Yes. Louise is doing a run with the medi-van tonight. These kind of temps make it rougher than usual on street people.

No client tonight?

Something came and went in his eyes, but his smile stayed easy. Actually, I had a cancellation. So its especially nice to see friends. Have a seat.

Its police business, Charles.

I was getting an inkling.

About your client, Ava Anders.

Is she all right? Concern, and hints of alarm sounded in his voice. Shes not

No, but her husband is. Eve angled her head. Its been all over the media since this morning. You hadnt heard?

No. He closed his eyes a moment. No, I hadnt. Ive been busy today, and had&things on my mind. I havent turned on the screen or looked at any reports. Thomas Anders is dead? Murdered since youre here. Surely you dont think Avas responsible.

Lets backtrack. Ava Anders is a client.

Did she tell you that?

Her financials did.

Then, as you have the information already, yes, shes a client.

And the services you provide her?

Dallas, you know I cant. You know there has to be confidentiality between me and a client. I cant discuss the arrangement without her consent. Sit down, will you? He said it wearily. Im getting a drink. Do you want anything?

Were fine, Charles. Roarke nudged Eve to a chair while Charles crossed to a sleek wet bar.

How was he killed?

In bed, in what appears to be a sexual bondage and erotic asphyxiation accident.

Oh Christ. Charles dropped ice into a short glass, poured whiskey over it. Ava

Wasnt there, Eve finished, and waited while he took the first sip. It doesnt seem to surprise youthe manner of death, that his wife wasnt there. Would that be because she wasnt into the kink, or was too good at it to mess it up?

Youll want to ask her that. Youre putting me in a position, Dallas.

How many did you put Ava in?

He laughed, quick and amused, and the tension in his face dissolved. Youll have to ask her that, too.

How about this? How did she come to be a client?

Referral. With the whiskey, he crossed back over, slid into a chair. And no, Im not going to tell you who. Not without consent. Dallas, my reputation and integrity hinge on consent, and on trust.

Eve sat back, debated different angles. Youd be, arguably, an expert on relationships. When he laughed again, shook his head, she lifted her hands. What? You trade in relationships. You told me once its not only the sex, but the relationship the client pays for.

True enough. And the strain was back on his face. Yes, thats true enough.

Charles, its not my business, Roarke interrupted, but as a friend Ill ask if everythings all right between you and Louise?

Charles looked at Roarke. Yes, thanks. Everythings very all right between me and Louise.

Now that we cleared that up, Eve said, lets try it this way. Hypothetically, why would a woman, in a long-term, ostensively happy marriage seek the services of a licensed companion? And seek them on a regular basis.

Hypothetically. Charles nodded. It might be that the woman has needs, desires, even fantasies that arent or cant be met within the marriage.

Why?

Now he blew out a breath. It might be that a woman isnt comfortable seeking those needs and so on from her spouse, or the spouse isnt comfortable or able to fulfill them. It might be by satisfying those needs with a professional, safely and confidentially, the marriage partners are more content. Not every marriage, however successful, gives both partners complete emotional or sexual satisfaction.

So what, they stay together to have conversation over dinner?

It might be as simple as that, but its usually considerably more complex. The fact is, sex, particularly a certain type of sex, is only one part of a relationship. I cant give you details, Dallas. Not without Avas consent. If you get it, Ill be happy to talk to you again.

Okay. That would have to do. Dont contact her, Charles. If she tries to contact you, Id appreciate it if youd dodge until Ive had a go with her on this.

All right. I can do that.

Good enough. Eve rose. Ill be in touch. Hi to Louise and all that.

Ill tell her. He stood, leaned over to kiss Eves cheek.

Idont get it. I dont get it. Eve frowned through the windshield as Roarke drove home. I know hes right, I know its true, but I dontgetit.

Precisely what woulditbe?

How you can have the sex outside marriage, and thats just hunky with everybody involved? Why bother with the marriage thing?

Finances, companionship, habit, security, status.

Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit.

You really should learn to form more definite opinions.

And the other thing, that she cant get all her jollies from within the marriage? Okay, trueI hear this all the time, especially after he kills her or vice versa, but what crap. Sheer annoyance had her slumping down in her seat. If you didnt have the sex buzz, you shouldnt have hooked up.

Sometimes the buzz changes frequencies for one of the partners.

Okay. All right. Say I want to change frequencies. I decide I want you to suck your thumb and call me Mommy while I paddle your cute ass. She shifted her gaze to his profile. What do you say?

I would probably suggest a reasonable compromise, such as Id like to suck on something else, preferably something attached to you, and Ill call you whatever you like. If spanking must be involved, well just have to take turns there.

See. She poked his shoulder. That works for me.

I sincerely hope not, but we can see.

No. She snorted out a laugh. I mean it works for me that youd say lets modify a little if I came up with something weird.

Remember that the next time I want to tie you up with your own underwear and slather your naked body with raspberry sauce.

She slid her eyes toward him again. Was there a first time?

Could be.

The man, she mused, continued to surprise her. Back to the point. I cant see a marriage staying solid if one or both partners enters into an intimate relationship elsewhere. And profession aside, the LCclient relationship is intimate. She considered, mulled, as Roarke drove through the gates. Maybe, for instance, youre married to this guy, everythings frosty, then he turns out to be gay as an Easter basket. You got a problem. Maybe you stick it out because of those reasons you namedmoney, habit, whatever. And maybe you go to a professional to get off. But is that a marriage or just an arrangement?

Is there love? Your view on this is narrow. Thats how youre built.

It didntfeelnarrow to her. It felt right. Marriage is a promise. Thats one of the ways you talked me into it. If you break one part of the promise, its going to crack other parts.

Even if both parties agree?

I dont know. She got out of the car. But Im interested to hear how Ava Anders explains it.

Inside, they started upstairs together. It seems to me, Roarke said, that if shed wanted to hide the payments to Charles, shed have paid in cash. And speaking of Charles, did he seem distracted tonight? Even before he understood why we were there?

Yeah, something. Maybe some trouble in paradise, even though he said everything was fine.

That would be a pity. They work together very well.

When she started to turn toward her office, he took her hand, tugged her in the opposite direction. What? Ive got work.

We both always have work. Now, its nearly midnight, and youve had a very long day.

I just want to

So do I. Im thinking of ordering up some raspberry sauce.

Funny guy. Youre a funny guy. Look, I just want another hour to

I have other plans for your next hour. Shifting position, he began to back her into the bedroom. Heres that compromise. That&modification. He depressed the release on the weapon harness shed strapped back on to go out.

Maybe Im not in the mood.

Then& He trailed a finger down her throat, flipped open the first button of her shirt. I suppose youre going to be bored. Fire on. He opened the next button as the flames flashed in the hearth. Lights off.

He continued to back her toward the platform, and the lake-sized bed it held, watching her eyes when her harness and then her shirt fell to the floor. Step up, he warned when they reached the platform. And again. Then he gave her a light shove so she fell back on the bed.

I guess Ill just lie here and take it.

You do that. He lifted her leg, pulled off her boot.

Dont take it personally if I nod off.

Of course not. He tossed the second boot aside. He ran his hands up her legs, smiling at her quiver when they stroked over her center on the way to the hook of her trousers. He drew them down her legs, let them drop. Eve faked a yawn, tapped her hand over her mouth. Sorry.

He cocked a brow. There wasnt another woman in the world, he thought, who could amuse, challenge, and arouse him as she did. He pulled off his sweater, tossed it aside, then sat on the side of the bed to remove his own boots. Behind him, she made exaggerating snorting sounds until he pinched her.

Oh, sorry. Was I snoring?

He stood, unhooked his trousers, stepped out of them. Go back to sleep, he said as he slid onto the bed, slid onto her. This wont take long.

She started to laugh, and the sound strangled when he closed his teeth over her breast through the thin tank she wore. Okay then. She cleared the huskiness out of her throat. I guess I can give you a few minutes.

Well, now, I appreciate that. He caught her nipple, exquisite control, while he trailed a fingertip up her inner thigh, traced it at the edge of the simple cotton. He heard her breath catch, and felt her muscles twitch, then the quiet moan when he slid just under the cotton. Slipping toward the heat and away again, teasing while her heart kicked to gallop under his relentless mouth. All that strength, all that wit, all that will melted into need beneath him. His mouth found hers, took, as he stroked her up, still up, up to the quivering edge. Then he rolled off. Well, that ought to do it.

Her body all but screamed in denial. She levered up, straddled him. He was hard as iron, and his gorgeous face covered with humor. Funny guy, she said again. Crossing her arms, she tugged the tank up and off, then crooked both her index fingers. Hands on, pal.

Well, if you insist.

He cupped her breasts, brushed his thumbs over her nipples. She planted her hands on either side of his head, and leaning down, feasted on his mouth. The taste of him. She loved the taste of him, would never have her fill of it. The way his lips fit to hers, the glide of his tongue. She could spend hours, days, on his mouth alone, on the magic she found there. With her breath quickened, her skin already hot, she flipped away, flopped onto her back. Thatought to do it.

They lay where they were a moment, then turning their heads, grinned at each other. And dove. She laughed, and groaned, she gasped and giggled. The sheer fun and foolishness added bold, bright color to the deeper tones of desire. His hands were quick; her mouth avid. Together they moved recklessly over the big bed, under the cold stars gleaming through the sky window. He drove her over, and her cry was of cheerful pleasure. This, he thought, this, the unity, the adventure of it, would always delight him. Sustain him. Even when he was inside her, when the need pounded them both, the utter joy of what theyd found, what theyd made, rushed through him. She was the happiness hed searched for all of his life. Her eyes, gilded by firelight, stayed on his; her lips curved. When they sprang over that shining edge together, his heart simply soared. Under him, limp, her heart still pounding, she sighed. Now, that, she said, should definitely do it.

In the morning, she glugged down coffee to spark her brain into handling the basic chore of getting dressed. Roarke, already dressed, alertas was his irritating habitscanned the stock reports while he drank his coffee in the bedroom sitting area.

Warmer today, if youre interested.

She spoke from the depths of the closet. Warmer than what?

Than a witchs teat.

Considering that, she buttoned on a plain white shirt. Im going to work here this morning, have Peabody meet me. Easier to go from here to the address Avas staying at. Do you know a Brigit Plowder?

Socialite, married to Peter Plowderarchitect. Her family buildsbridges and tunnels most particularly. Shes a respected philanthropic figure. Puts her money where her cause is. Would this be where the widows staying?

Yeah. Eve came out, sat down to put on her boots. Then narrowed her eyes at Roarkes long look. What? Its a jacket. Its just a damn jacket. I dont care if it goes with the pants.

Pity then, as it goes very well. I was thinking how stylishly professional you look, which is probably a happy accident. But nonetheless.

Stylishly professional. She sniffed, leaned over to steal a wedge of melon from his plate. Ive got to get my stylishly professional ass to work.

Eat.

Ill get a bagel or whatever in my office. I need to hit those financials, since somebody interfered with police business last night.

I should be arrested.

Pal, that goes without saying. She leaned over to kiss him. Later. Oh, nearly forgot. Peabodys going onNowtonight.

Is she? She must be& He thought of Peabody. Terrified.

Yeah. Shell get over it.

In her office, she tackled the financials. She remembered the bagel, then forgot it again. When she heard the clump of Peabodys winter boots, she rubbed her already blurry eyes.

You take over here.

Peabody stopped, blinked. Take over where?

These stinking financials. Give them another fifteen minutes, then well take Ava.

Okay. Peabody draped a bag over the back of Eves sleep chair.

Whats that?

Its an outfit. For tonight. In case I spill something on what Im wearing, or in case what Im wearings stupid. McNab liked it, but he wears Day-Glo half the time. Peabody pulled off her outerwear to reveal a ruby-red suit with small silver buttons running down the front. What do you think? Does it look right?

Why are you asking me?

I dont know. I really dont know. Nerves pumping, Peabody brushed at her hair. And I got stupid hair day going. They fix that, right? They fix that sort of thing. Nadine hired Trina to do hair and makeup so& Peabody trailed off, pursed her lips. You look all good and everything today. Seriously up.

Eve shook her head. Gray pants, white shirt, navy jacket over her weapon harness. What was thedeal? If weve finished our fashion consultation, maybe you could spare a minute for the damn financials.

Okay. What do you think about the earrings?

Eve gave the silver drops a passing glance. About you wearing them, or about me ripping them off and stuffing them up your nose?

Okay, Peabody said again, and hotfooted it to the desk.

The computer hasnt popped out anything from standard searches, Eve told her. One more shot, then Im thinking to pass it on to Roarke. He popped something straight out of the widows in about ten minutes last night.

Hes got the knack.

He popped Charles out.

Peabodys head jerked up. Our Charles?

In a manner of. Avas been a regular bimonthly client of our favorite LCs for a year and a half.

Shit. Were going to have to interview him.

We went over there last night. He is, as expected, coy about the details. We need Ava to clear him for that. But he did tell me that she was a referral.

If she was fooling around with a pro it might go to motive.

It might. Hitch is she wasnt hiding it, at least not well. There were straight payments out of her personal debit account. No cover.

As she considered, Peabody played with one of the short dangles at her ear. So, she doesnt think to hide the payments. The husband finds out, they go around about it. Fight, divorce is threatened. And she kills him, sexual overtones.

She was out of the country.

Right. Hired hit?

Too elaborate. Just too damn fussy, Eve thought. Unless, it plays out like that, and she hired someone who tailors the hit to the clients specifications.

Fantasy Hits R Us.

Theres a way to make money, people find it. Im going to go over her financials and have Roarke comb them. But so far, nothings popped there either. No suspicious withdrawals, no payments that dont jibe. She paced. Good-looking woman. Shes got style, power. The sort that could talk a lover, if hes stupid enough, into doing her dirty work for her.

But then if she had a lover, Peabody pointed out, why is she paying Charles five thousand a bang, twice a month?

Exactly, so& Eve turned back. How do you know what Charles charges a bang?

Ah. Peabody fussed with her hair, pulled at the silver buttons on her suit jacket. Maybe, being curious, I looked up his rates when we were sort of dating.

Uh-huh. Well, I can agree that if a womans getting strange for free, shes unlikely to pay ten grand a month for a couple thrills. See what you can find.

Moving away again, Eve pulled out her link to schedule an appointment with Mira, and to put a hold on an interview room.

Ladies. Roarke spoke from the doorway of their adjoining offices. Peabody, you look ravishing.

I do? She nearly squealed it. But in a screen-friendly, trustworthy, public servant kind of way?

Yes, indeed. The colors wonderful on you.

Jesus, Eve said under her breath, and earned a mild stare from her husband.

Breakfast? he said. Peabody watched as Eve scowled, shrugged. Then Roarke lifted his brows with those dreamy eyes steady. Her lieutenant rolled hers, but stomped off to the kitchen.

You guys dont even have to talk. Resting her chin on her fist, Peabody sighed. You just know.

It does come in handy from time to time. How was your date night?

It was mag. Really. Mostly because we both agreed we like noisy, crowded clubs better than grown-up, sophisticated ones. But its good to try something new.

Stop socializing with my partner, Eve called out from the kitchen.

Financials, Peabody mouthed.

Ah, yes. Casually, Roarke strolled over, gave a quick glance at the data on screen. He winked at Peabody and sent her pulse scrambling, then continued on to the kitchen where his wife was taking an annoyed bite out of a bagel.

Breakfast, she muttered at him.

Such as it is. Why dont I go over the financials? I can do it in considerably less time than you or Peabody, which frees you up to go out and browbeat suspects.

She frowned, chewed. Youd have to do it straight. No unregistered, no illegal hacking.

You underestimate the skill of an honest man.

Yeah, but Im talking to you. She grinned over another bite of bagel. I could use the help, if youve got the time between schemes of universal financial domination.

Ill work it in. Now. He brushed a crumb away from the side of her mouth, kissed her. Go protect and serve.

Good idea. Peabody, she said as she headed out, with me.

I havent really started on

The civilians got it. Lets go take a few kicks at the grieving widow.

Thats lots more fun. Peabody jumped up, grabbed her garment bag. And because Eve was already out of earshot, turned back as Roarke came out of the kitchen. Do you like the earrings?

He stepped closer to give them a good study. Theyre charming.

But in a

In a professional and intuitive police detective sort of way. Youll be wonderful and look the same.

Thanks. She grabbed her coat, scarf, hat. I

Peabody! Move your damn ass!

Gotta go, Peabody finished on the heels of Eves shout. And fled. With his fresh cup of coffee, Roarke sat behind Eves desk. He could spare twenty minutes now, he mused. So, lets see what we have here.

6

AN ELEGANT, OLD, LOVINGLY RESTORED BUILDINGon the Upper East Side housed the Plowders apartment. The quiet, rosy brick boasted a portico entrance with wide, beveled glass doors granting passersby a peek at the polished marble lobby. A doorman, in blue and silver livery, stood guard should any of those passersby need a little move-along. Eve noted he gave her police issue the beady eye when she pulled up to park at the carpeted curb. She didnt mind a bit. She didnt just eat bagels for breakfast, but enjoyed a good bite of doorman. He strode across the swatch of red carpet, shook his head.

Cop rides never get any prettier, he commented. What house are you out of?

She shifted her feet, and her prepared tone. You on the job?

Was. Put in my papers after I did my thirty. My brother-in-law manages the place. He jerked his head toward the entrance. Tried golf, tried fishing, tried driving the wife crazy. He flashed a smile. Better pay, better hours on this door than doing the security guard thing. Dallas, he said, shooting a finger at her. Lieutenant Eve.

Yeah, thats right.

Shoulda made you sooner. Getting rusty, I guess. I didnt hear about anybody getting murdered inside.

Not yet. They exchanged quick cop grins. Your tenants the Plowders have a guest I need to speak with. Ava Anders.

Hmm. Husband got dead yesterday. Didnt know she was upstairs. She mustve come in after I went off. She and the dead husband came around now and then. Her more than him, but he was friendlier.

Was Mrs. Anders unfriendly?

No. Just one of the type who dont notice who opens the door for her cause she expects somebody to. On the snooty side, but not bitchy or anything. Him, hed usually stop a minute going in or out, have a word, maybe ask if you caught the gamewhatever the game was. Sorry to hear he got dead. I gotta call up. Worth my job if I dont.

Thats no problem. What was your house? Eve asked as they moved to the doors.

Did my last ten at the one-two-eight. Cold Case Unit.

Thats a tough hitch. The cold ones can haunt you.

Yeah, they can. He pulled off his glove to offer a hand. Frank OMalley, formerly Detective.

Nice to meet you, Detective.

Peabody, Detective Delia, Peabody said when they shook. I knew a uniform in the one-two-eight back when I was on patrol. Hannison?

Sure, I knew Hannison. Hes all right.

Inside the lobby with its subtly fragrant air, Frank turned to an intercom screen. Plowder penthouse, he ordered, then waited until the screen shifted from waiting blue and the image of a woman with short brown hair swam on. Morning, Agnes.

Frank.

I got a Lieutenant Dallas and Detective Peabody in the lobby. Theyd like to speak to Mrs. Anders.

I see. Hold a moment, Frank.

That was Mrs. Plowders personal assistant, Agnes Morelli. Shes okay.

How about the Plowders?

Seem like solid types to me. Not on the snooty side. Call you by name, ask after the family they got time for it. Dont skimp on the tips.

A moment later, Agnes flowed back on screen. You can send them right up, Frank, lower parlor entrance.

Will do. Thanks, Agnes. First elevator, he told Eve. Thirty-nine East. Thatll take you straight to the lower parlor. Its a hell of a space they got up there. Three floors, river view.

Appreciate the help, Detective.

Inside the elevator, the hammered silver walls boasted a long, built-in bench, in case your legs got tired of riding up, or down. Since the trip took under thirty seconds, Eve couldnt imagine the bench got much use. The doors opened straight onto a wide room in pale and pretty colors, opening to a spectacular river view through a wall of glass doors and windows. Agnes stood, in a severe black suit given unexpected charm by the full-blown red rose on the lapel.

Good morning, Im Agnes, Mrs. Plowders PA. If you wouldnt mind showing me some identification. We trust Frank, of course, but

No problem. Eve took out her badge, as did Peabody.

Thank you. Please come in, have a seat. Mrs. Anders will be right down. Can I offer you some refreshment? Coffee?

It was knee-jerk for Eve to refuse, but she decided coffee in the parlor could lend a tone of female intimacy that might be helpful. Coffeed be great. Black for me, coffee regular for my partner.

Make yourselves comfortable. Ill just be a minute.

The minute they were alone, Peabody let her eyes pop wide. Can I just say: Woot, some digs. Theyve got a terrace out there bigger than my entire apartment.

I bet your apartments a lot warmer than that terrace right now.

Yeah, theres that. But unable to resist, Peabody started across the parlor to the glass. Its the kind of place that makes you feel you need to glide. I dont glide very well. It must relate to my center of gravity, which would be my ass.

Its the kind of place where birds probably splat their tiny birdbrains on the windows regular.

Thats an image, boy. And Peabody took a couple cautious steps back. Still, its a totally uptown view. Dont you want to see?

I can see fine from here. To Eves mind, lofty heights should be left to the birdbrains. In any case, her interest centered on what and who lived in the space, not what spread outside. A moment later, Ava made her entrance. The widow wore black in a snugly fitted, high-collared shirt with slim pants and heels. Her hair coiled at the nape of her neck, pulled tightly back from a face with shadowed, exhausted eyes. Beside her, an arm supportively around Avas waist, Brigit Plowder conveyed boldness and challenge. She topped off at about five feet, with her tiny frame tucked neatly into a plum-colored sweater and stone-gray pants. Her hair, a pure white cap, set off laser-sharp green eyes and the arched black brows that framed them. Her mouth formed a deep bow Eve assumed could be charming when it smiled, but at the moment those lips clamped together in tight disapproval bordering on anger.

Im going to say this straight off. Brigits voice was a throaty boom worthy of a woman twice her size. This is outrageous.

I agree. Murder is always outrageous.

A quick spark fired in those keen eyes. It might have been approval. I understand you have a job to do, Lieutenant, and from everything Ive been told about you and this one, she said with a gesture toward Peabody, you excel at your work. Thats admirable. However, bombarding Ava at such a time shows a distinct lack of sensitivity and compassion.

Its all right, Bridge.

Itsnotall right. Why cant you give us all a few days, just a few days to grieve?

Because then I give Thomas Anderss killer a few days. Eve shifted her gaze back to Ava. I apologize for disturbing you, Mrs. Anders. The investigation requires it.

I dont see why

Look, Mrs. Plowder, Im a murder cop, and any murder cop will tell you times the enemy. The more time that passes, the cooler the trail. The trail goes cold, the killer can walk. When killers walk, it pisses me off. If you want to blame somebody for me being here, blame the killer. Now, the more time you stand there complaining, the more time were going to be here.

Brigits chin jutted out, then angled as she inclined her head. Youre absolutely right. I dont like it, dont like any of it, but youre absolutely right. Come on, Ava, lets sit down now. Ill apologize, Lieutenant, Detective, she continued as she led Ava to a thickly cushioned sofa in deep blue. Im rarely rude to guests in my home, even uninvited guests. Im not altogether myself today. None of us are. Please, sit down.

As Eve and Peabody took wide-armed chairs, Agnes rolled in a tray. Ive got chamomile tea for you, Ava. Youll do better with that than coffee.

Thank you, Agnes. Ava took the cup, stared into it.

Ill see she drinks it this time, Brigit stated.

Thanks. Eve accepted the coffee Agnes offered. Since youre here, Mrs. Plowder, can you tell me when you and Mrs. Anders made your travel plans?

Travel? Oh. That seems like years ago already. We go away every year. Ava, SashaSasha Bride-Westand myself. A week somewhere warm, a restorative at the end of winter.

This particular restorative. When did you make the plans? The dates, the destination.

Oh&Three months ago. About? she added, turning to Agnes.

Nearly four, actually. I booked the arrangements in November, just before Thanksgiving.

Agnes knows all, remembers all, Brigit said, and Eve saw shed been right. The smile was charming.

We had such a lovely day. Avas voice dripped like tears. Such a lovely day on Monday. Breakfast on the terrace. Mimosas. We had mimosas, and we got just a little drunk. At breakfast, remember, Bridge?

Yes, honey, I remember.

We laughed like idiots. Everything was so funny. And later, when I called Tommy later, I cut it all so short. We were going to have massages on the terrace, where wed gotten a little bit drunk at breakfast. So I cut it all very short. Ill talk to you later, Tommy, thats what I said to him. Ill talk to you later. I want my massage. Thats the last thing I said to him, because there wasnt any later.

Sweetheart. Brigit brushed her fingers over Avas cheek. Dont do this.

I dont know about trails going cold; I just know Tommys dead. I saw him myself when Ben took me to him. I saw Tommy dead.

Mrs. Anders. Peabody shifted forward. This is a terrible time for you. Were here to help. Youve lost your husband. Dont you want to know why? Dont you want to know who?

I dont know. Ava lifted her gaze, aimed those wet blue eyes at Peabody. I should. I know I should. But hell still be gone.

Hed want you to know, Peabody said. Hed want us to find those answers.

I dont know them. How could I?

You knew him best. You were his wife. There are things you know, things you may not realize are important, are relevant. Thats why were here. We will know.

Your husbands date book, Eve began. Did he make the entries himself?

His date book? Yes.

And the autosystem in the bedroom, the wake-up program and so on. Would he have programmed that personally?

Yes. Ava straightened in her seat. He enjoyed that, hearing his first appointment of the day, being reminded of what hed ordered for breakfast.

The two of you must have gotten up at the same time routinely.

Oh, if he had an early appointment, and I didnt, Id wear earplugs. And have Greta wake me.

Do you take sleep aids?

Oh, occasionally. She waved a hand. Now and then.

Did he?

Now and then. Everyone does, dont they?

He had very specific routines. The bedroom door always closed, the internal security cameras shut down at night, no cameras in the sleeping area of the master bedroom.

Yes, he was very private.

Even in hotels, Brigit put in. We all traveled together quite a bit. Tommy always instructed housekeeping to keep the bedroom door closed, and tipped them in advance to insure they did.

Hed have been very careful regarding home security, Eve commented.

He had the system checked and evaluated every quarter. Ava lifted her teacup, sipped. And upgraded whenever upgrades became available. It wasnt just security, though of course that was the priority. But Tommy liked&toys, if you know what I mean.

I do.

He just got such a kick out of all the bells and whistles. He liked to play, she said wistfully. And playing was the next line of questioning. Mrs. Plowder, my partner and I need to speak with Mrs. Anders privately.

Oh, but cant Brigit stay? Ava fumbled for her friends hand. I feel so much better with her here.

There are some sensitive questions. If, after weve concluded, you opt to share them with Mrs. Plowder, thats your privilege. If youd excuse us, Mrs. Plowder, Ms. Morelli.

Well be right upstairs. Brigit patted Avas arm. You only have to call if you want me.

As her friend left the room, Ava set down her teacup, gripped her hands together in her lap. This is about how Tommy was found. Brigit knows. Everyone knows.

Was your husband involved in sexual relationships outside of your marriage?

No.

Was your husband aware you procured the services of a licensed professional twice monthly for the last eighteen months?

The prominent bones of Avas cheeks seemed to push against her skin. Her lips trembled, even as she clamped them tightly together. When she reached for her tea again, her hand shook. Yes. Yes. God. Do you know what people will say about him, about us if all this gets out?

In your previous statement you claimed to have a solid and happy marriage.

It wasnt a claim. Its the truth.

Yet you sought sexual gratification from a professional.

Ava closed her eyes a moment, let out a breath. When she opened them, her eyes were hard and angry. Youre very smug, arent you? Sitting there, judging me by your lofty standards and morals.

Im not judging you. Im asking you.

Of course youre judging me, and Tommy. So will others. Even Bridge, if she knew. Shes the most generous, open-hearted person I know, the most loyal of friends, but shed never understand this. Shed never understand.

Make me understand.

Tommy and I loved each other. We enjoyed each other. We were devoted to each other. He used to say he made me laugh, and I made him think. Our marriage was very solid, very fulfilling to us both. A couple of years ago, a little more than that, I suppose, he felt, began to feel, he wanted more experimentation in bed. She took a long drink of tea. Embarrassment or the heat from the drink flushed color into her cheeks. We were neither of us children. Even when we married we were mature, experienced people. My husband wanted more&variety in our sexual relationship, and I tried to meet that. But, I wasnt comfortable with some of his&

She pressed her lips together. In short, I wasnt able to provide him with what he wanted, and he wasnt satisfied with what I wanted in that one area of our marriage. It began to erode our relationship, to peck away at our foundation. We both felt it. Why should we allow that to destroy the rest? she demanded. We decided that we would take that off the table, so to speak. That sex wasnt as important as we were, what we were to each other. We would simply obtain that aspect elsewhere. Discreetly. We would use professionals, and would never engage those professionals in any of our homes.

Did you both adhere to those terms?

Ava looked away. I did. Over the last few months I suspected&I thought Tommy might have been bringing women into the house while I was away. I found some lingerie in my drawer, another womans lingerie Greta must have laundered and put away believing it was mine. Some of my perfume went missing. Little things.

Did you confront him?

No. I was hurt, I admit it. Hurt and disappointed. Angry, too. Id decided to take the time during this trip with my friends to decide how to handle it. He let someone into our home, and now hes dead. Her hand fisted in her lap. Im so angry with him, so angry with him for leaving me over this.

Do you know the names or the agencies of the professionals he used?

No. Wed agreed not to bring that up. It was outside. It wasnt us. It was outside of us.

But your payments to Charles Monroe came out of your debit account where your husband could see them.

She let out a half laugh. Tommy never looked at my personal accounts.

Did you look at his?

Color rose into her face again. Yes, I did. I did when I suspected he was bringing women home. I couldnt find anything there. Im not sure what Id have done if I had.

How did you select Charles Monroe?

My friend Sasha recommended him. She knows. Unlike Brigit, Sashas very open. Even a little wild, by some standards. She told me he was very smooth, very skilled, and very discreet. I was a nervous wreck the first time I went to him. He put me very much at ease.

Is he the only LC youve engaged?

Yes. I liked him, trusted him. I could think of our appointments as going to a therapist.

Are you willing to give consent for Mr. Monroe to speak to us about your relationship?

Oh God. Ava pressed a hand to her face. I suppose theres no place for pride or privacy any longer. Yes, Ill consent to that. In return, I need your word youll keep as much of this private business out of the media.

You can have my word on that.

Ill have to tell Bridge, Ava murmured. Im going to disappoint her.

Mrs. Plowder strikes me as a woman who sticks, Peabody said, and Ava smiled a little.

Yes, youre right. She is. She does. Am I to blame for this? Am I responsible? If Id been more open, more flexible about what he wanted, Tommy would still be alive, wouldnt he? I keep asking myself that.

The killers responsible, Mrs. Anders. Thats your answer. Eve rose. Thank you for your time and cooperation.

When they stood inside the hammered steel of the elevator, Peabody shook her head. Tough spot for her, the guilt on top of the grief. She cant help but ask herself is this because she has sexual hang-ups, or because he went over-the-top. Since hes the one whos dead, shes probably going to settle on door number one.

Eve only said, Hmm. When they hit the lobby, she dug out a card. Thanks again, Detective. She offered her hand, then the card to Frank. You can reach me at any of those contacts, should something strike you.

Can do. He tucked it into a pocket. Luck, Lieutenant. Detective.

Yeah, Eve muttered, striding to the car, were going to need it. She got behind the wheel. Sounds like the vic took a hell of a turn after, what, more than a dozen years of marriage.

Happens, doesnt it? Divorce litters the land, so does adultery. And LCs do good business for a reason.

All true. Eve danced her fingers along the steering wheel. Marriage is mostly a sucker bet.

Spoken by the woman with Dream Husband.

You just said Dream Husband might take a turn down the road and decide he wants to do threesomes or

Me! Me! Peabody shot up a hand. Pick me!

Yeah, Im dying to get you between the sheets, Peabody. Keeps me up at night. The point is, youve got a dozen years in, and one night the guy comes home and says: Look, honey, I picked up this ball gag and anal probe on the way home. Lets go try them out.

That would be a shocker, but I bet it was more subtle than that. Maybe he tries out a few new moves, testing the waters, and shes not receptive, and it goes from there. Its like, okay, heres a man whos got it pretty damn good. Hes healthy, he doesnt have a face that scares small children. Hes running a successful business, hes rich, got the good-looking, spiffed-up wife who loves him. Big house, friends, a nephew who stands in as son and heir. Then he has this mid-life deala lot of people doand he starts thinking yeah, hes got all this, all this is good, but whats he missing? And hes not as young or as potent as he used to be so he compensates. Instead of buying a flashy phallic-symbol vehicle, he wants to get some wild on in bed. But the wifes like: You want to put your whatwhere?

And shes more in the habit of him putting his this there. Eve nodded. I get that. So shes just, well, okay then, you put your what where into whoever, Ill have somebody else put his this there, and were jake?

Theres a whole separate schism of the Free-Agers who believe in open relationships. Everybody puts their what and their this where and there. But looking at it from your POVwhich I have to admit I am, too, as Im of the opinion if he puts his what anywhere but here? Peabody jerked a thumb at the car window. Theres the door, asshole. It didnt work for them, either. He went over the line. He couldnt keep the deal theyd made when they got married, and he couldnt keep this deal either.

Thats the pivot point, Eve agreed. Contact Charles. Tell him weve got client consent, and were on our way.

Louise answered the door, and put a little hitch in Eves stride. Her blonde hair was tousled, her gray eyes sleepy. She wore winter white lounging pants with a long-sleeved tee.

Come on in. Charles is putting some breakfast together. I slept inlong night.

How was it out there? Eve asked her.

Cold. Have a seat. Ill see if I can hunt up the coffee.

Its okay. We just had some.

Like that would stop you. Charles told me this is about the Anders murder.

Thats right.

And that Anderss wife is one of Charless clients.

Yeah.

Which, of course, neither of you nor Charles can discuss with me. Louise cocked up her eyebrows. Why dont I make myself scarce?

We can take this somewhere else.

Thats okay, no problem. Ill have myself some breakfast in bed. Thats a treat.

She walked off to the kitchen, and Peabody sent Eve a worried look. Oh-oh.

Yeah, somethings off with them. I caught the buzz from Charles last night.

Louise came back with a pretty place setting on a pretty silver tray. Hi to Roarke and McNab, she said, then disappeared into the bedroom. Charles stepped out of the kitchen looking as tired and stressed as his lover. Dallas. Peabody. He crossed over to buss cheeks. You got consent.

On record. Eve took out her recorder, played back the statement.

Thatll work. So. He gestured to seats, took one of his own. What do you want to know?

How did Ava Anders contact you?

By link. I have a business-only line.

How did she strike you?

Nervous, and trying hard not to show it. Which is how she struck me on our first appointment.

Where was the first appointment?

I looked that up after you left last night. The Blackmore Hotel, downtown. Its a busy place, which is what she wanted. She checked in, contacted me to give me the room number. This way, I could go straight up, but no one would see us together.

Okay, this is weird, but what did she want?

Initially, to talk. Shed ordered lunch, and wine, which we had in the parlor of the suite. We talkedif I rememberabout literature, plays, art. For some, this first interlude with a professional is very much like a first date, where you do the surface getting-to-know-you routine.

He glanced toward the bedroom where Louise, presumably, ate her breakfast in bed. As we got to know each other over the course of time, I understood that her husband wasnt as interested in literature and so forth as he was in sports. So I could offer her that.

Did she talk about her husband?

Not a great deal. It&spoils the mood. She might mention, usually afterward, when we were talking over a drink or coffee, that they were going on a trip, or having a dinner party, that sort of thing.

How did she feel about him, Charles? Youd know.

When she spoke of him, she spoke warmly, or casually, the way you do when someones an intricate part of your life. I remember shed been shopping once before an appointment and showed me a shirt shed picked up for him. She said how handsome hed look in it.

Sexually, what was she after?

She liked to be tended to. She liked the lights offa few candles were fine, but if we met during the day, which was most usual, the drapes had to be closed.

Youd classify her as inhibited?

Traditional. Very. And maybe a bit self-involved. As I said, she wanted to be tended to. She wasnt as interested in touching as much as being touched. I can say that I noticed in the last few appointments something was off. She was distracted, edgy. She asked me if I ever went to clients homesmarried clients. And if I knew other LCs who did, was it unusual to pay in cash. And she asked if I had a name and address of a client, if I could find the LC hired to go there.

What did you tell her?

That I only accepted home appointments from married clients if both spouses agreed, but that others have different policies in that area. Cash always works, he added with a smile. And that it would be difficult with only a name and address to locate the LC booked. Considering the number of agencies, freelancers, levels, it wouldnt be an easy task.

Had she tried to contact you since her husbands death?

No.

Whens your next appointment?

A week from Wednesday. She canceled our last appointment as she was getting ready for her trip. Two oclock, at the Blackmore again.

Okay. If she doesnt contact to cancel, Id like you to keep it.

He let out a sigh that had Eves brows drawing together.

All right.

Problem with that?

No. No, no problem. Im sorry, but if theres more, can we do it later? I actually have an appointment shortly.

Thats fine. Thats it for now anyway.

Charles, Peabody said as they got to their feet. Is something wrong?

No, nothing. Just a lot on my mind. We should all have dinner soon. The six of us.

Thatd be great. You know you could tag me anytime, if you need to talk about anything.

This time when he smiled, it hit his eyes, too. I know. He cupped Peabodys chin, lowered his lips to hers. You tell McNab I said hes a lucky man.

Rather than climb right into the car, Peabody paced the sidewalk outside Charless building. Why does he seem so worried? Like somethings balled up in his belly?

I dont know, but thats a good description.

It cant be about the case, Dallas. Its not about Anders. If Charles knew something

No, its not about the case. I caught it from him last night before I brought up Anders.

Maybe hes sick. Worry and distress hitched through the words. I know how carefully LCs are screened, especially top-levels like Charles, but what if

Peabody, theres nothing we can do about this. And if he was sick, Louise would know.

Youre right. Youre right. Its just&I love him, you know? Not likeloveMcNab love, but

I get it. Ive got a soft spot, too. You cant know everything there is to know about a friend, or fix every problem. Its tough knowing theyve got one, but&

She trailed off, narrowed eyes staring at a middle distance.

What?

Just thinking of friends. Weve got time to drop in on the last of the mimosas-for-breakfast trio before I meet with Mira. Lets see what Sasha has to say.

Sasha Bride-West wasnt inclined to say much. She was too busy groaning through crunches under the command of the hunk of beef-cake she introduced as Sven, her personal trainer.

Ava and Tommy were going through a patch. Have you ever seen a marriage that didnt? Sven, youre killing me.

Ten more, my warrior. Youll have abs to slay.

I canbuyfrigging abs. When he made tsking sounds, she gritted her teeth and kept going. Anyway, Ive had three marriages. Not much smooth sailing, plenty of rough road. Seemed to work the opposite for Ava. But when she asked me to recommend a love machine, and to keep it to myself, I gave her a nameguys a genius in bed, and damn good company out of itand kept it to myself.

She collapsed, panting. Water, Sven, Im begging you.

He offered her a towel first, to mop her face. She dabbed sweat off skin the color of rich caramel cream.

Did you follow up?

You mean did I ask her for the deets after? Sasha gulped down water, paused, gulped again. Of course I did. She wouldnt spill. And I wheedled pretty good.

Sven took the nearly empty water bottle. Its time for your cardio.

I hate cardio. Lets skip it and go straight to the massage.

Sasha, said Sven, severely, and tsked again.

All right, you sexy sadist. She pulled herself up off the floor of her home gym to climb on the cross trainer. Give me Paris, Sven. If Im going to hike and sprint and step, it might as well be Paris. I was going to go over and see her this afternoon, Sasha continued as the Arc de Triomphe flashed on her view screen. But Bridge has it under control, and shes better with this kind of thing than I am. When Avas ready for a distractionfor a trip or good drunk or retail therapyIm her girl. Brigits the soft shoulder.

How was Ava, on this last trip?

Good. Fine. Maybe a little tense and moody when we started out, but she chilled. Listen, I cant talk and do this torment at the same time, so is that it?

Yeah, thats it. Thanks. Well see ourselves out.

As Eve turned away, she heard Sasha curse. Sven, you bastard! Theres no hills like these on the frigging Champs-Élysées.

7

THE MORNING INTERVIEWS GAVE EVE A LOT TOchew on. If thered been time, shed have done just that, in her office, with her boots on her desk and her eyes on her murder board. But sessions with Mira were gold, and not something she could afford to fluff off. With Peabody writing up the statements and reports, Eve strode into Miras outer office.

Dr. Mira is running a bit behind today, the palace guard in the guise of admin informed her.

How behind is a bit?

Only a few minutes. The woman smiled. Youre a minute late yourself, so it wont be long.

Fine. Turning away, Eve screwed up her face and mouthed,Youre a minute late yourself. Then pulling out her link called her oldest friend, Mavis Freestone. Seconds later, Maviss happy face, surrounded by an explosion of lavender hair, popped on screen.

Dallas! Guess where were going? Me and Belly Button?

To hell in a handbasket?

To the baby doctor. Yes, we are! Mavis said in an excited coo. Were all clean and shiny and were going to the baby doctor so he can look at our little dumpling butt, our magalicious baby girl ears, and our yummy tum-tummy. Isnt that right, Bellamia? Say hi to Auntie Dallas, sugarcheeks. Say hi.

Maviss face was replaced by the round-cheeked (maybe it did have something to do with sugar), bright-eyed, curly-haired infant Mavis had popped out a couple months before. There were candy-striped ribbons tied in bows in the curls, drool dripping down the pudgy chin, and a huge, gummy grin. Say hi to Bellaloca, Auntie Dallas.

Hows it going, Belle. Mavis.

Wave bye-bye, my itsy-bitsy baby-boo. Bye-bye to Auntie Dallas. Give her a cooey-dooey

Mavis!

What?

Mavis, Im saying this for your own good. You have to stop the insanity. You sound like a moron.

Iknow. Maviss eyes, currently purple, rolled. I canhearmyself, but I cant stop. Its like a drug. So totally S. Hang on. She set down the link, and the screen filled with the rainbow hues of the nursery. Eve heard Mavis cooing and gooing, and assumed she was putting the kid down somewhere.

Back. Shes so beautiful. And shessogood. Just this morning

Mavis.

Sorry. Back. Mavis blew out a breath that fluttered the lavender bangs spiking over her eyes. Im kicking out to the studio later, working on a new disc. Ill be around grown-up people, lots of crazy artistic types. Thatll help.

Yeah, crazy artistic types. Thats the ticket. I just have a question.

Lay it down.

If you and Leonardo were having problems in bed

Bite your tongue in three sections and swallow it!

Just hear me out. If you were, and it got sticky.

It wouldnt get sticky in bed if we were having problems there.

Ha. Serious. If it got serious, would you tell me?

Affirmative. The purple eyes registered quick worry. You and Roarke arent

No. Second part of the question. If you started going to an LC

Can it be a really frosty one? Can it be two frosty ones, with really big wanks?

Solid ice, mongo wanks. If you did that, youd tell me about it.

Dallas, if I was doing it with a pro, you couldnt shut me up. Which youd want to because you wouldnt want to hear how they licked warm, melted chocolate off my

No, I wouldnt.

But since my big, cuddly bear already does that, and his wank is mucho mongo, I wouldnt need the LC.

Okay. Eve turned when she heard Miras door open. And staring, quickly ended the call. Thanks. Later. Hey, Charles, small world.

She might have bashed him with a brick. His expression jumped from shock to disbelief and ended on flustered. Ive heard people call New York a small town, he managed. I guess this is what they mean. I was just&Well.

Eve. With a warm and welcoming smile on her pretty face, Mira stepped beside Charles. Im sorry I kept you waiting. Come right in. Charles, always a pleasure.

Thank you. Ill& He gestured without any of his usual style. Let you get to work.

Over her shoulder, Eve watched him stride rapidly away as she moved into Miras office. Whats all that about?

Have a seat. Well have some tea.

While Eve frowned, Mira moved with her usual graceful efficiency between the two scoop chairs to the AutoChef to order the flowery tea she seemed to live on. Her hair, a cannily highlighted sable, swung smoothly around her patient face, setting off her calm blue eyes. Her suit, a warm and dull gold today, showed off good legs.

Since you dont have a hair out of place, Im guessing he didnt drop by to bang you.

Mira set delicate cups on the table between the chairs, and laughed with delight. Wouldnt that have been interesting? Because it is, I have no intention of confirming or denying. She sat, crossed her legs smoothly, studied Eves face. Youre annoyed because two of your friends have some private business theyre not inclined to share with you.

Im not annoyed. Irked, Eve decided, maybe she was a little irked. The vics wife is one of Charless clients, and I interviewed him regarding that this morning, so

Ill tell you that what Charles and I discussed has nothing whatsoever to do with your investigation. Now, about your investigation

Is he in trouble?

Miras eyes softened. No, Charles isnt in trouble. He has a lot on his mind at the moment.

So he keeps saying, Eve replied, and dropped into a chair. People are too much damn work.

They certainly can be.

I could find out. Its my damn job to find things out.

But you wont, because Ive just told you he isnt in trouble, and you wont intrude.

If these people wouldnt crisscross all the time in front of where I need to go, I wouldnt have to think about them.

Mira sipped her tea, but hiding her smile didnt hide the open amusement in her eyes. Your lifes more crowded than it used to be. And youre more contented.

Yeah, Im feeling real cozy right now. Forget it. She shrugged it off. Charles was a big boy. You read the file?

Yes. Mira took another sip of tea asEve knewshe aligned her thoughts. In my opinion, Anders knew his killer. The method used, the staging surrounding it, wasnt just personal, but intimate. Sexual, of course, but sex isnt always intimate. And there is no physical or forensic evidence that the victim engaged in sexual relations with the killer, or anyone on the night of the murder.

Nope, he was still holding a full load. No fluids on the sheets or on the body itself. No hair, but for a few strays from the vic, skin.

Yet it was staged to appear otherwise, and the stagings important. It took time, and planning and preparation. The killer thought about how this could and would be done for some time. Theres no impulse here, no passion. A sense of the dramatic, even the theatric, but that underlying sense of order. It feels female. That may be sexist, but it doesnt feel like a same sex crime.

If it was, hedve staged the body differently. Given the logistics of man-on-man sex, I think a male killer would have positioned the body differently.

Mira nodded. Thats a good point.

And even though I told Peabody not to jump to female off the get, it strikes me that if we were dealing with a managain, if sex was part of itthered have been more anger. If Anders was gay, he was deep in the closet. Added to it, in my interviews with the wife, she admits theyd had discussions about his sexual preferences, and she always speaks of women.

A female killer, then, one who is able to resist impulse, at least long enough to plan, and to execute that plan. One who enjoys the elaborate, the symbolic. Who had or believed she had an intimate relationship with the victim, who certainly at some point had a sexual one with him. Someone who finds sex both powerful and compelling, and demeaning.

There are LCs like that, Eve speculated. Who get wrapped up in itlike an addictthen burn out.

Yes, which is why theyre screened so thoroughly before licensing and thereafter to keep the license.

Are you leaning toward pro?

It certainly could bethere are factors that indicate that sort of intimacy again, and distance. A professional companion must subjugate his or her own needs in order to tailor the relationship to the clients demands. The nature and the length of the relationship is completely in the clients hands.

Thats what theyre paid for, Eve commented.

Yes, and the most successful are able to consider itasa profession. They enjoy their work, or consider it a public service. Here, the victim was bound, was naked. He was the supplicant, the submissive. The scarfing, another symbol of who is in control, who is dominant.

And speaking of S-and-M, bondage, and other fringe areas of sex, Mira sipped her flowery tea. This was a sex crime, certainly, but not one of sexual rage, or revenge. The genitals arent destroyed or mutilated, but spotlighted.

Theres the word for it.

Mira smiled a little. Your crime scene notes indicate he insisted the bedroom door remain closed, had black drapes, and so on. This was a private man, one who had strong feelings about bedroom privacy. So by spotlighting his most private area, his most private business, the killer demeans him. Humiliates him even after death. And yet

Shesince were going with shetranqs him halfway to a coma first. She didnt want him to feel the pain or the fear. Didnt want him to suffer the pain. And that was a particular element that stuck in Eves craw. It doesnt fit.

Its a contradiction, I agree. But people can be contradictory. It may have been an accident, may have been she miscalculated the dose. And before you say it, I will: No, I dont think it was a miscalculation. Too much prep work to make such a big mistake.

Eve sat a moment, then picked up the tea and drank before she remembered it wasnt coffee. Ah. She set it down again. I like the wife for it.

Intrigued, Mira cocked her head. I thought it was confirmed the wife wasnt in New York during the time of the murder.

She wasnt.

You suspect she hired the killer?

Ive got nothing to support that. Nothing. Plus, I work back to why does a hire tranq him so heavily. What does a hire care if the target suffers? Im going to have Roarke go over her financials, dig for other accounts, but it doesnt feel like a hit. At least not a pro.

Why do you like the wife?

Shes smart. Shes a planner. Shes got an answer for everything. Her responses, reactions, her demeanor, all perfect, all just right. Like she fucking studied on it. And maybe its pushing me toward her, but I cant get my head around thisarrangementshe said she and the vic had.

Pushing up to pace, Eve ran it by Mira, condensing it down to the basics.

You dont believe her, Mira concluded. More, you dont believe a couple inside a marriage could, or would, come to an agreement like this arrangement on sexual relationships.

Objectively, I know people could, and would, because objectively I know people are completely screwed up. But it doesnt fit for me, it doesnt&Its like this one false note playing over and over in a song, and it throws me out every time. I dont know if I dont like the damn song, or if the songs bullshit.

Objectivity is key to what you do, but so is instinct. If the note strikes you false, again and again, then youd need to decide which note youd play instead.

Huh. How does it strike you?

I havent heard it played from the source, and that can make a difference. But I will say that marriage partners often make arrangements and bargains that seem odd, or even wrong, to someone lookingor listeningin.

Yeah, I keep coming back to that, too. People do the whacked all the time.

Time to let it stew, Eve decided as she hopped on a glide to start the trip back to Homicide. Time to take another look at the facts and evidence, and let the personalities and speculations simmer. With that in mind, she switched glides to detour to the Electronic Detectives Division. A face-to-face with its captain, and her old partner, might give her another angle on the security breach. She skirted by a couple of cops leaning back on the glide and jawing about basketball, wound her way around a grim-faced woman with her arms folded and piss in her eye before she ran into a logjam of bodies. She smelled bad cologne, worse coffee, and fresh-baked goods as she snaked and elbowed her way through. Because the elevators were always worse, she stuck with the glides. As she neared EDD, the tone changed. The cops got younger, the clothes more trendy, the visible body piercings more plentiful. The smells edged toward candy and fizzy drinks. Every mothers son or daughter was hooked uppocket links, ear links, headsets so the chatter jittered out, the noise of it rising through the corridor and reaching critical mass inside the squad room. Shed never known an e-detective to be still for more than five minutes. They bopped, danced, tapped, jiggled. Eve figured it would take her less than that five minutes to go stark raving mad if she rode a desk in EDD. But it suited Feeney. He might have been old enough to have fathered most of his detectives, and his idea of fashion ran to making sure his socks matched, but the color and buzz of EDD fit him like one of his wrinkled suits. Naturally. She turned toward his office and his open door. An explosion of sound had her pausing, then approaching with more caution. Feeney sat at his desk. His ginger hair with its generous dashes of gray sat on his head like an electrified cat. Beneath it, his comfortably droopy face was clammy and pale, if you overlooked the bright red nose that sat in the middle like a stoplight. The explosion of sound came again in the form of three blasting sneezes, followed by a rattling wheeze, and a barking curse.

Man, you look bad.

His puffy eyes lifted. The shadows under them seemed to droop right down to his clammy cheeks. Got a freaking son of a bitching cold.

Yeah, I heard that. Maybe you should be in bed.

Im in bed, the wifes on me like white on tofu, how she told me I shoulda worn the muffler, and how she didnt give me those nice earmuffs for Christmas. Damn things make me look like I got a couple of red rats coming out of my ears. Shell want to be pouring Christ knows what into me.

He hacked, sneezed, cursed. And Eve eased back another few inches.

Plus, shes been taking some godforsaken class on alternative medicine, and has it in her head colonics are the cure for every damn thing. You think I want a colonic?

I really dont.

He blew his nose heroically. You want a rundown on the Sanders electronics.

Anders. She could almost see the microscopic germs dancing and mating gleefully in the air around him. Feeney, you gotta go home.

Im going to ride it out. Got inhalers, and decongestants. Dont work for shit, but I got them. I get a brain tumor, they can fix it, no problem. I get a lousy germ, and they got nothing.

Blows, but

Come on in, Ill bring up the file.

She studied him, her trainer, her mentor, her longtime partner. He was, in every way that counted, a father. And she thought of the gleeful germs banging each other all over the office. Ah, actually, Ive got to get back down. I forgot something.

Thisll only take a minute.

Feeney, Im not coming in there, Im not taking one step closer without a hazmat suit. Youre dog sick, youre contagious, I can actually see your germs flying around in the air having a party. You need to go home.

He lowered his head to the desk. Stun me, will you, kid? Im too weak to pull my own weapon and do it myself.

Shit. She glanced back, saw McNabs cube was empty. Figured. You. She jabbed a finger at the closest live body, even if it was clad in a banana yellow skin-suit with knee-high purple airboots. Your captain needs transportation home. Now. Arrange it. Whos next in rank?

Ummmm.

Jesus. Get the transpo. I want a vehicle ready to go, and an officer at the elevator door of the garage, this sector, ground level, by the time I get there. If its notwho are you?

Um, Detective Letterman.

If its not, Detective Letterman, Im coming back up here and peeling you like the banana you resemble. Clear?

Yes, sir.

Then do it! Eve took several deep breaths, like a diver preparing to go under, then holding it, went into the red zone. She grabbed Feeneys coat, his hat, his scarf. Come on, get these on.

Wanna die at my desk, he whimpered, not in bed like an old man.

Jesus, stop being a baby. Youre not going to die. Get your coat on. Dont breathe on me. Wear the hat. What the hells wrong with you coming in today?

His glassy eyes rolled up to hers. Youre turning into a woman on me, fussing and nagging.

Insulted, she yanked the hat down over his ears herself. Watch it, pal, or Ill deck you and have a couple of your fruit baskets out there cart you out.

Thats better. He braced a hand on the desk. You know, Dallas, I think Im pretty fucking sick.

Thats the smartest thing youve said since I got here. Lets go. She put an arm around his waist, led him out. In the squad room, one glare cut off any questions or comments. Call Maintenance, she ordered as she hauled Feeney out. Have them disinfect that office.

Sanders, Feeney wheezed.

Anders, she corrected and called for the elevator.

Remote was a slick one. Custom.

Okay. When the elevator doors opened, occupants took one look at Feeney. The protests rang out immediately. Make room or get the hell off. People scattered, deserted the ship as she pulled Feeney on. Garage, she ordered, ground level.

Shut it down, booted it up the same way, Feeney continued. No tampering with the locks. Knew the code or had a clone. Cant find any indication of cloning. Have to be slick, too.

Okay. Howlongdid it take to get to the damn garage? How soon after breeding did germs give birth to new ones?

Nothing on the house links looks hinky. Got a list of em in the report.

Yeah.

Pocket link either. Office links. Going back another week on the lot, but nothing popping.

I got it, Feeney.

Nothing popping on his comps either. He slumped against Eve like a drunk. Guy had a million of em, so its taking a while. Personals dont show anything off.

You get to the wifes yet?

Whose wife?

Never mind. When the doors opened, a burly, hard-eyed uniform stepped forward. Letterman, she thought, could live.

Captain Feeney?

Right here. Wheres your ride?

He gestured to a black-and-white. Let me give you a hand. Poor bastard looks pretty sick.

Whats the closest health center? she asked as between them they maneuvered Feeney into the backseat where he simply sprawled out facedown.

Got a walk-in clinic on Broadway and Eighteen.

Take him there.

Aw, Dallas, Feeney mumbled.

Stay with him, Eve continued. Ill contact his wife. When she gets there, if she wants you to stay, you stay.

Yes, sir.

Name?

Klink.

Take care of him, Officer Klink.

She slammed the door, stepped back. And watching Klink drive Feeney away wondered if she had time for a detox session. She settled for scrubbing her hands as if her next task were to perform surgery. And tagging Feeneys wife on the move, made her way back to her own division to track down McNab. She had visions of EDD throwing an orgy of biblical proportions without Feeney in command. Just as she was about to try for McNab, she swung into her own bullpen and saw him. His back was to her, but there was no mistaking Ian McNab. Who else had that skinny build, the long tail of blond hair flopping down the back of a shirt that resembled the view through a kaleidoscope? And who else would have his flat ass on her partners desk?

McNab, get your pitiful excuse for an ass off Peabodys desk and into my office.

She didnt bother to wait to see if he obeyed. She didnt doubt he would, or that hed slip Peabody a little pinch or tickle before he did. Some things she didnt need to witness. By the time she got coffee, he was bouncing into her office. Hey, Dallas, I just came down to

Whos the ranking officer under Feeney?

Ah, that would be&yeah, that would probably be DS Reedway. Why?

I just had Feeney hauled off to the health center. His

Jeez. MacNabs soft green eyes clouded with worry. Is he that bad? He looked rough this morning.

Bad enough. Inform your Detective Sergeant that your captains out sick. If he needs any information or assistance, he can contact me.

She. DS Melodie Reedway.

A cop named Melodie. Its just not right. She waved that off. If your ranking officer has no objections, Id like you as primary e-man on the Anders investigation. Youre annoying, but at least I know what to expect from you.

He grinned at her. Ive been working it. I came down to give you an update.

Feeney just gave me one on the way down to transpoor partially. Have you started on the wifes electronics?

We focused on the vics first, and he has serious boatloads. Fairly iced. Guy liked UTDup-to-date, he translated when Eve frowned. I can shift over to the wifes if you want. Anything special Id be looking for?

Yeah, her having a conversation with the killer would be nice. You know the particulars of the case, youre a detective. Youll know when you see or hear it. Get back up there, McNab.

Okay. Listen, Ill give Mrs. Feeney a call, let her know.

Already done. But you could check in with an Officer Klink. Hes with Feeney.

Okay. Hey, its mag about Peabody doingNowtonight. Shes freaked. I was giving her a pep talk just now.

As long as thats all you were giving her. Leave now, and dont touch my partner on the way out.

She shut the door behind him. After topping off her coffee, she sat at her desk, put her boots up on it. And studied her murder board. Anders, Thomas A., she thought. Age sixty-one, wealthy and successful. Married, no children. Loving uncle to his only nephew, who stands as a major heir and successor. Enjoyed sports and electronic toysand according to his spouse, kinky sex. Staunch friend. Fair employer. Golf dates, tennis dates, season tickets to every sport known to man. Boxed seats. Swiveling away from the murder board she brought the file up on her computer, flipped through for the crime scene photos not on the board, then studied her own record of the victims closet/dressing room area. Suits, sure. Looked like maybe a dozen. Two tuxes. Dress shirts, ties. Yeah, yeah. All that took up one wall of the room. The short wall. And filling the two longer walls were the casual clothes, the sports clothes. Golf pants, khakis, sports shirts, shorts, track pants, sweatshirts. And in the drawers, what had she seen when shed opened the drawers? Dress socks, she recalled, pulling it into her head. High-end sweatersthe cashmere, the merino wool, the alpaca. Lots of T-shirtsshort-and long-sleeved. A lot with sports logos, team emblems. His own brand. Dozens of sports socks. Boxer shorts. Plain white boxers, plain white undershirts. Tailored pajamas. Interesting. She added some notes to the file. After a quick knock, Peabody poked her head in. Dallas, Ben Forrest is here. Hed like to see you.

Eve thought of the murder board, started to tell Peabody to have him wait, then thought better of it. Send him on back.

She finished her notes, saved to the file. When the next knock sounded, she called out an absent, Come in.

Lieutenant, I appreciate you

She watched Bens face. Watched the tired eyes go wide, and the stunned horror turn them glassy. God, oh, God.

Im sorry, Mr. Forrest. She stood, angled so she blocked his view of his uncles photos. I wasnt thinking. Lets take this outside.

II&I know what you told me, and what theyre saying in the media. How he died. But&

Eve took her coat off the hook, tossed it over the board. Sit down. She gave him a light shove to see that he did, then got him a bottle of water.

Who would do that to him? Who would humiliate him that way? Killing him wasnt enough? Rather than drink, Ben slapped the bottle against his palm. It wasnt enough to take his life?

Who would want to humiliate him that way?

When his gaze lifted to Eve, the fury burned. I dont know. I swear to God, I dont know. If I did, if I even thought, maybe, maybe him or her, Id tell you. I loved him, Lieutenant Dallas.

I believe you. You traveled with him on occasion. On business, or pleasure. Golf trips, sports events.

Yeah. I guess we averaged at least a trip a month.

Ben, look at me. I believe you loved him, and Im telling you if you hold back youre not helping him. So think before you answer me. When you traveled, just the two of you, did he ever seek out women, did he ever arrange for companionshipprofessional or otherwise.

No. Wait. He held up a hand, closed his eyes, and took a few breaths. We nearly always shared a two-bedroom suite. We could hang out together that way. I cant swear that he was always alone in his section of the suite, or that he never went on the prowl after I was down for the night. I cant swear to it. I can only swear to you that I never saw or heard any sign of that kind of thing. I never knew him to seek out companionship. He used to ask me, to razz me sometimes, about finding a woman and settling down. Lieutenant, he wassettled. If youre digging through the dirt somebody smeared on him, youre never going to find who did this to him. Because its a goddamn lie.

Okay, Ben. How about this? The two of you traveled a lot together, just the two of you. Did you ever hit any strip clubs, sex clubs? Just a boys night out kind of thing?

No. That wasnt Uncle Tommys style, and hedve been embarrassed to go to a place like that with me. We went to games, sports bars, that kind of thing.

All right.

He nodded, then twisted off the cap, drank the water. They contacted Ava, and said we could have him now. Im taking care of the arrangements. I wanted to come here to see if theres anything. Anything you can tell me.

I can tell you that your uncle is my priority. Are you having a memorial?

Tomorrow. He drank again. We didnt want to wait. Brigits helping with the details. Hed want simple. He liked simple best.

Who decorated the house?

He let out a surprised laugh. Ava. And yeah, its not simple. Uncle Tommy liked it though, got a kick out of what he called Avas Palace.

I bet. The styles a lot different in his office.

Yeah. Guy world. Thats what hed say.

Did he take sleep aids?

I&I dont think so. I mean, maybe once in a while. I dont remember him mentioning anything like that, but I dont guess it ever came up. I know he liked the door closed, the drapes drawn when he went to bed. He said it was the only way he could get a good nights sleep. So, I guess that sort of thing was his sleep aid.

Okay.

Okay. Anyway, thanks. He got to his feet, and his gaze traveled back to the board covered now by Eves coat. Im glad I saw that. Not the images, Ill never be glad of that. Im glad I saw that you had that in here. That youre looking at it, that you cant turn around in this room without seeing what was done to him. It helps me know you mean it. Hes your priority.

Alone, Eve turned back to the board. She lifted off her coat, tossed it over the visitors chair. And she looked into Ava Anderss eyes.

Youre a liar, Eve stated aloud. Youre a liar, and Im going to prove it.

8

EVE CHECKED THE TRANSMISSION HERSELF, THENrechecked it. It was indisputable that Greta Horowitz contacted Ava Anders, the call originating from the house in New York and going to the room registered to Ava on St. Lucia. The transmission ran from 6:14A.M.to 6:17A.M. With her eyes closed, Eve replayed the copy of the transmission provided by EDD. Ava had blocked video, but Eve did the same herself when calls came in while she was in bed. A pity though, a damn shame. It wouldve been good to see Avas face, to read her body language. Still, the voice was pitch-perfectevery hill and valley. Sleepy annoyance, to impatience, to shock and through to grief. Every note perfectly played. Still&

Computer, send a copy of this transmission, and a copy of the recorded interview with Ava Anders today to the lab. Mark attention Chief Berenski. Memo attached: Require voice print analysis and verification ASAP. Require verification recorded voices are the same individual, and that neither sample was prerecorded or transmitted from a remote location. Dallas, Lieutenant Eve.

She added the case file name and number. Couldve worked it that way, Eve mused. Tricky, but not impossible. A voice double, a transmission bounce. Shed have EDD take another look at that possibility. But if that didnt work& She did a search on private transportation, and the fastest shuttle time possible from New York to St. Lucia. The results frustrated her. Not enough time, she admitted. There just hadnt been enough time to travel from the crime scene back to St. Lucia, back to the hotel room on the island to take the call, not even if Ava had gone off book with the transportation. Physics gave her an unimpeachable alibi. She went back to the time line, tried to find a hole in it. Her link signaled, with an order to report to her commander. To save time, she squeezed herself on an elevator. She rode up partway with cops, lawyers, and a small, long-eared dog.

Eye wit, the cop standing beside the dog told her.

That so?

More like nose witness. Owner got himself mugged while he was walking Abe here. Claims Abell ID the guy who mugged him by smell. The cop shrugged. We got three possibles, so, what the hell.

Yeah, good luck with that.

Eve tried to work out how they expected to convince the PA to bring charges against a suspect on the nose of a dog as she covered the rest of the distance to her commanders office.

Go right in, Lieutenant. The admin gestured. Theyre waiting for you.

Commander Whitney sat at his desk, his back to the view of the city hed protected and served more than half of his life. His face showed the years, but Eve had always felt it showed them in a way that mattered. Showed in the lines and grooves dug into his dark skin that hed lived those years, and remembered them. He wore his hair short, and though she suspected his wife would have preferred it otherwise, he let the salt sprinkle liberally over the pepper. He carried his big, wide build well, and held his command with a strong hand.

Commander, she began, then paused as the man sitting in the high-backed visitors chair facing the desk rose. Chief Tibble.

Not just the commander, she thought, reevaluating, but the Chief of Police.

Lieutenant. Whitney pointed to the second chair. Have a seat.

She obeyed, though she preferred standing, preferred giving her oral reports on her feet.

Lieutenant. Tibble took the jump, and made her wonder why, if this was his meet, she wasnt sitting in The Tower. I asked the commander to give me a few minutes with you here. Regarding the Anders investigation.

Yes, sir.

He sat back. A lean man, he favored good suits, andas she recalleda good Scotch. Like Whitney, hed come up through the ranks, and though he was nowessentiallya politician, the office hadnt shoved the cop out of him.

My reason for asking is somewhat personal.

Did you know Mr. Anders, sir?

No, I didnt. My wife, however, is acquainted with his widow.

Eve thought:Crap.

Theyve served on several committees together. In any case, when my wife contacted Mrs. Anders to offer her condolences, Mrs. Anders expressed considerable concern over how the current media tone will affect not only her late husbands reputation, the business, but the charitable programs associated with Anders Worldwide. Im in the position of asking you to assist in damping down the media.

With all respect, Chief Tibble, how do you propose I do that? Its not Code Blue, and if it was termed such at this point, if we instigated a media blackout now, it would only feed the beast.

I agree. Is there any area of your investigation at this point that would give them a different bone to gnaw on?

I believe the circumstances under which the victim was found was a setup. But if I toss that bone out, I would jeopardize the investigation, and alert the suspect to the line Im pursuing.

You have a suspect?

I do. The widow.

Tibble let out a sigh, tipped back his head and looked at the ceiling. Hell. How He cut himself off. Sorry, Jack, this is your area.

Lieutenant, explain how a woman who was several thousand miles away at the time of the murder heads the top of your list of suspects?

Its not confirmed she was in St. Lucia, Commander. There was no video on the transmission from the house manager. Ive sent that transmission and a sample of Mrs. Anderss voice from an interview this morning to the lab for voice print comparison. Even if that confirms her alibi, shes involved. Shes part of it. Shes lying, Commander. Shes lying, she repeated, looking back at the chief. She tells your wife shes concerned about the fallout from the media. The fallout revealing her husband engaged in extramarital sex, which included bondage, scarfing, but the widow is the only person interviewed who confirms those allegations.

Arguably, Whitney said, the wife would know her husbands sexual proclivities while others dont.

Yeah, and thats something she counted on. Shes wrong, Commander. I dont have it solid yet, but I know shes wrong. The stagings wrong. Its too elaborate, too&fussy, she said for a lack of better. Whoever did it knew the house, the security, knew Anderss habits. There were little mistakes, but for the most part, it was well planned. Whoever did it wanted to humiliate him, to open him to the very media frenzy thats happening. Mrs. Anders is an expert in PR. Just like she knows that if she plays this right, after the jokes aboutherdie down, shell come out golden. Who gets the sympathy, the support, the understanding? Shell be the victim, and shell be the one squaring her shoulders and going on.

Are you saying she did thisforthe publicity? Whitney demanded.

No, sir, but its a side benefit shed be aware of, and will find a way to exploit.

It wasnt a stranger, Commander, it wasnt a pro, and it wasnt an accident. That leaves me with Ava Anders.

Then prove it, Whitney told her.

Yes, sir. I have Roarke on as expert consultant, analyzing all the financials, looking for any hidden accounts.

If anyone could find them.

Yes, sir, she repeated. I intend to run a deeper background check on Mrs. Anders, and interview her first husband, as well as other friends and associates of hers and the victims.

She rose. Regarding the media, Chief Tibble, Detective Peabody will be appearing onNowthis evening. I cant speak for Nadine Furst, but I do have knowledge she knew the victim and liked him. Respected him.

Why Peabody, Whitney demanded, and not you?

Because, Commander, she needs a shove into the deep end of the pool. And Nadine is very fond of Peabody. That doesnt mean she wont push or dig, but she wont eat her alive. And, in my opinion, sir, Detective Peabody can and will handle herself.

If she fucks up, Lieutenant? Tibble smiled. Youll be the one dealing with my wife.

So noted. Actually, it might be helpful for me to speak with her, if you dont object.

Go right ahead. But fair warning. Shes feeling very protective of Mrs. Anders at the moment.

Varying approaches on interviewing the wife of the Chief of Police occupied her mind all the way back to Homicide. Diplomacy could be key, and that particular key tended to go slippery in her fingers. But shed hold it steady. Next came the trick of interviewing a cops wifethetopcops wifewithout letting her suspectyoususpected the woman she was feeling very protective of.

Just have to pull it off, Eve thought. Thats why they paid her the medium bucks.

Lady! Yo, lady!

It took her a minute, but she made the voice, and the small package it came from. Coffee-black skin, vivid green eyes, a curly high-top of hair. The boy hauled the same battered suitcaseapproximately the size of Staten Islandhed hauled in December when hed been hustling the fake cashmere scarves inside it near the splatted body of a jumper on Broadway.

Didnt I tell you before Im not a lady.

Youre a cop. I tracked you down, and Ive been waiting here, and these other cops tried hassling me about why wasnt I in school and that shit.

Why arent you in school and that shit?