Ceremony in Death

by J. D. Robb

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “When we’re done here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Yes, sir.”

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

  “Struggle?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  Eve engaged the ’link, requested a replay of the last call transmitted or received. And the room filled with low, rhythmic chanting.

  “What the hell is that?”

  “I don’t know.” Uneasy, Peabody stepped closer.

  “Replay,” Eve demanded.

  “Hear the names. Hear the names and fear them. Loki, Beelzebub, Baphomet. I am annihilation. I am revenge. In nomine Dei nostri Santanas Luciferi excelsi. Vengeance for you who strayed from the law. Hear the names and fear.”

  “Stop.” Eve gave a quick, involuntary shudder. “Beelzebub, that’s devil shit, isn’t it? The bastards were playing with her, tormenting her. And she was already on the edge. No wonder she ran out of here. Where were you, you son of a bitch, where were you? Location of last transmission. Display.” Her mouth thinned as she read the data. “Tenth and Seventh, right down the goddamn street. Probably a public ’link. Fuckers. She was heading right for them.”

  “There wasn’t anyone there.” But Peabody was watching Eve’s face now, and the fury that fired in her eyes. “Even with the fog, the rain, I would have seen someone if they’d been laying for her. There wasn’t anything there but a cat.”

  Eve’s heart took a bad jump. “A what?”

  “Just a cat. I caught a glimpse of a cat, but there was no one on the street.”

  “A cat.” Eve walked to the window. Suddenly, she felt the need for a good gulp of air. There, on the sill, she saw the long, black feather. “And a bird,” she murmured. She took out tweezers, held the feather up to the light. “We’ve still got the occasional crow in New York. A crow’s the same thing as a raven, isn’t it?”

  “More or less. I think.”

  “Bag it,” Eve ordered. “I want it analyzed.” She rubbed her fingers over her eyes as if to push away fatigue. “Next of kin would be Brenda Wojinski, mother. Run that for an address.”

  “Yes, sir.” Peabody took out her PPC, then simply held it while shame washed over her. “Lieutenant, I’d like to apologize for my earlier comment and my behavior.”

  Eve took the disc fr
om the ’link, sealed it herself. “I don’t recall any comment, Peabody, or any unsatisfactory behavior.” She gave Peabody a level look. “While the recorder is still engaged, do another scan of the apartment.”

  Understanding, Peabody inclined her head. “I’m aware the recorder is still engaged, Lieutenant. I want this on the record. I was insubordinate and out of line both professionally and personally.”

  Damn stiff-necked idiot, Eve thought and bit back an oath. “There was no insubordination in my opinion or in my recollection, Officer.”

  “Dallas.” Peabody loosed a sigh. “I damn well was. I was shaky and having a hard time dealing with the situation. It’s one thing to see a body after it’s done, and another to see a woman get tossed ten feet in the air and land on the pavement. She was under my watch.”

  “I was rough on you.”

  “Yes, sir, you were. And you needed to be. I thought that because you were able to maintain, you were able to do your job, it meant you didn’t care. I was wrong, and I’m sorry.”

  “Acknowledged. Now, put this on record, Peabody. You followed orders, you followed procedure. You were not at fault for what happened tonight. You could not have prevented it. Now, put it aside so we can find out why she’s dead.”

  Eve thought that a cop’s daughter knew when another cop knocked on the door at five in the morning, it was with news of the worst kind. She saw, the minute Brenda recognized her, that she was right.

  “Oh God. Oh God. Mama?”

  “No, it’s not your mother, Ms. Wojinski.” There was only one way, Eve knew, and that was fast. “It’s Alice. May we come in?”

  “Alice?” She blinked glazed eyes, propped a hand on the door for balance. “Alice?”

  “I think we should go inside.” As gently as possible, Eve took her arm, stepped through the door. “Let’s go in and sit down.”

  “Alice?” she said again. Grief cracked the glaze over her eyes. Tears poured through. “Oh no, not my Alice. Not my baby.”

  Brenda swayed, would have slid to the floor, but Eve tightened her grip and headed quickly for the nearest seat. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for your loss, Ms. Wojinski. There was an accident early this morning, and Alice was killed.”

  “An accident? No, you’ve made a mistake. It was someone else. It wasn’t Alice.” She clutched at Eve, flooded eyes pleading. “You can’t be sure it was my Alice.”

  “It was. I’m sorry.”

  She collapsed then, burying her face in her hands, pressing her hands to her knees so her body was balled in a defensive shield.

  “I could make her some tea,” Peabody murmured.

  “Yeah, go.” It was the part of the job that made Eve feel the most helpless, the most inadequate. There was no solution for fresh grief. “Is there someone I can call for you? Do you want me to contact your mother? Your brother?”

  “Mama. Oh God, Alice. How will we bear it?”

  There was no answer for that, Eve thought. Yet they would. Life demanded it. “I can give you a soother, or contact your doctor, if you’d prefer.”

  “Mom?”

  As Brenda continued to rock, Eve looked over. The boy stood in the doorway, blinking sleepy, confused eyes. His hair was tousled from sleep and he wore grubby sweatpants with holes at the knees.

  Alice’s brother, Eve remembered. She’d forgotten.

  Then he focused on Eve, his eyes suddenly alert, and much too adult. “What’s wrong?” he demanded. “What’s happened?”

  What the hell was his name? Eve struggled to remember, then decided it didn’t matter at the moment. She rose. He was a tall boy, she realized, with sleep creases in his cheeks and a body already braced to take the worst. “There’s been an accident. I’m sorry but—”

  “It’s Alice.” His chin quivered, but his eyes stayed steady on hers. “She’s dead.”

  “Yes, I’m sorry.”

  He continued to stare at her as Peabody came in with a cup of tea, set it awkwardly on the table. “What kind of accident?”

  “She was hit by a car early this morning.”

  “Hit and run?”

  “No.” Eve watched him carefully, considering. “She stepped into the path of a cab. The driver was unable to stop. We’re in the process of analyzing his vehicle and the scene, but there was a witness who corroborates the driver’s statement. I don’t believe he was at fault. He didn’t attempt to flee the scene, and his driving record is clean.”

  The boy simply nodded, dry-eyed, while his mother’s weeping filled the room. “I’ll take care of her. It’d be best if you left us alone now.”

  “All right. If you have any questions, you can reach me at Cop Central. I’m Lieutenant Dallas.”

  “I know who you are. Leave us alone now,” he repeated and went to sit by his mother.

  “The kid knows something,” Eve stated as they stepped outside.

  “That would be my take. Maybe Alice felt more comfortable talking to him than other members of the family. They were pretty close in age. Brothers and sisters squabble, but they confide in each other.”

  “I wouldn’t know.” She started her car, pined for coffee. “Where the hell do you live, Peabody?”

  “Why?”

  “I’ll drop you at home. You can catch some sleep, report to Central at eleven.”

  “Is that what you’re going to do, catch some sleep?”

  “Yeah.” That was probably a lie, but it served her purposes. “Which way?”

  “I live on Houston.”

  Eve winced only a little. “Well, if it’s going to be inconvenient, it might as well be way inconvenient.” She headed south. “Houston? Peabody, you bohemian.”

  “It was my cousin’s place. When she decided to move to Colorado and weave rugs, I took it over. Rent control.”

  “A likely story. You probably spend all your free time hanging at poetry bars and performance art clubs.”

  “Actually, I prefer the mating lounges. Better food.”

  “You’d probably get more sex if you didn’t think about it so much.”

  “No, I tried that, too.” She yawned, abruptly and hugely. “Sorry.”

  “You’re entitled. When you report in, check on the status of the autopsy. I want to be sure there’s nothing weird in the tox report. And make sure to change out of that silly dress.”

  Peabody shifted on her seat. “It’s not that silly. A couple guys at the Aquarian seemed to like it. So did Roarke.”

  “Yeah, he mentioned it.”

  Jaw dropped, Peabody swiveled her head. “He did? Really?”

  Foolishness, Eve thought, helped soothe. “He said something about you looking appealing. So I hit him. Just in case.”

  “Appealing. Jesus.” Peabody patted her heart. “I’m going to have to dig through some of the other stuff my mother’s made for me. Appealing.” She sighed. “Roarke doesn’t have any brothers, cousins, uncles, does he?”

  “As far as I know, Peabody, he’s one of a kind.”

  She found him dozing. Not in bed, but on the sofa in the sitting area of the master suite. The moment she stepped into the room, his eyes opened.

  “You’ve had a long, rough one, Lieutenant.” He reached out a hand. “Come here.”

  “I’m going to grab a shower, some coffee. I’ve got some calls to make.”

  He’d tagged onto the police scanner and knew exactly what she’d been dealing with. “Come here,” he repeated, and closed his hand over hers when she reluctantly obliged. “Are the calls going to make any difference if you make them an hour from now?”

  “No, but—”

  So he tugged until she tumbled onto the sofa with him. Because her struggle was only halfhearted, he managed to snuggle her down beside him quickly. And wrapping an arm around her, he kissed her hair. “Sleep a little,” he said quietly. “There’s no need to exhaust yourself.”

  “She was so young, Roarke.”

  “I know. Close it off, just for a little while.”

  “The
data? Frank’s log. Did you find anything?”

  “We’ll talk about it after you sleep.”

  “An hour. Just an hour.” Linking her fingers with his, she let herself go under.

  chapter five

  Sleep helped. So did the hot shower and the food Roarke ordered up. Eve shoveled eggs into her mouth as she studied the data he’d unearthed on-screen.

  “More like a diary than an investigative log,” she decided. “Lots of personal comments, and obviously he was worried about Alice. ‘I’m not sure how deeply they’ve influenced her mind, or hurt her heart.’ He was thinking like a grandfather, not like a cop. You got this off his home unit?”

  “Yes. He had it coded and passkeyed. I suspect he didn’t want his wife stumbling across it.”

  “If he had it coded, how did you access?”

  Roarke took a cigarette from a carved box, studied it. “You don’t really want me to explain that, do you? Lieutenant?”

  “No.” Eve forked up more eggs. “Guess not. Still, his personal thoughts and worries aren’t going to be a lot of help. I need to know what he found out, and how far his private investigation went before he died.”

  “There’s more.” Roarke scrolled over dates. “There, he talks about tailing Selina Cross, and lists some of her…associates.”

  “But there’s nothing there. He suspects she’s dealing illegals. He believes she’s holding unacceptable ceremonies in her club and perhaps her home. He observes suspicious characters coming and going, but he bases it all on emotion. No facts. Frank had been off the streets too long.” Eve set her plate aside and rose. “If he didn’t want to involve cops, why the hell didn’t he at least hire a PI to handle the legwork? What’s this?”

  Frowning, she stepped closer to the screen.

  I think she made me. Can’t be sure, but it’s almost as though she’s leading me along now. I’m going to have to make a move soon. Alice is terrified, begging me to stay away from Cross, and from her. The poor kid spends too much time with that Isis character. Isis may be a harmless weirdo, but she can’t be a good influence on Alice. I’ve told Sally I’m working late. Tonight, I’m going in. Cross spends Thursday nights at the club. The apartment should be empty. If I can get inside and find anything, anything at all to prove Alice saw a child murdered, I can report to Whitney anonymously. She’s going to pay for what she and her filthy lover did to my little girl. One way or the other, she’s going to pay.