J. Robb - Ceremony In Death

"Can't see everything, can you?" Eve angled her head. "I think you should be more worried about your vision as it applies to Charles Forte."

"No." She opened her eyes again. There was misery in them, but behind it was a steel Eve recognized. "There's no one I see more clearly than Chas. She's lying."

"She'll be tested. In the meantime, you may want to rethink allowing yourself to be used as his alibi. He's betrayed your trust," Eve said, stepping closer. "It could have been you, Isis, at any time. Mirium's younger, probably more biddable. I wonder how much longer he'd have pretended to let you run the show."

"How can you not understand what there is between us when you have it yourself? Do you think the word of some disturbed young woman would make me doubt the man I love? Would it make you doubt Roarke?"

"It's not my personal life that's in dire straits here," Eve said evenly. "It's yours. If you care for him so much, then cooperate with me. It's the only way to stop him, and to get him help."

"Help?" Isis's mouth twisted. "You don't want to help him. You want him to be guilty, you want him to be punished, because of where he came from. Because of his father."

Eve looked down at the folder in her hands, the plain tan cover that hid the terrible images of terrible death. "You're wrong." She spoke quietly now, almost to herself. "I wanted him to be innocent. Because of his father."

Then she lifted her gaze, met Isis's. "The warrant will have come through by now. We'll search your shop and your apartment. Whatever we find can be used against you as well."

"It won't matter." Isis forced herself to stand. "You won't find anything to help you."

"You're entitled to be present during the search."

"No. I'll stay here. I want to see Chas."

"You're not related or legally married – "

"Dallas." Isis interrupted quietly. "You have a heart. Please listen to it and let me see him."

Yes, she had a heart. And it ached to see the plea in the eyes of a strong woman. "I can give you five minutes through security glass." As she wrenched the door open, she set her teeth. "Tell him to get a lawyer, for God's sake."

– =O=-***-=O=-

In the storeroom of Spirit Quest and in a workroom in the apartment above, were dozens of bottles and containers and boxes. They were filled with liquid and powder and leaves and seeds. She found organized records detailing the contents and their uses.

Eve ordered everything sent to the lab for analysis.

She found knives, carved handles and plain, long-bladed and short. She tagged a sweeper, ordered him to scan for traces of blood. Ceremonial robes and street clothes were scanned as well.

She blocked out the voices – sweepers never worked quietly – and went about her job with focused efficiency.

And there, under a neatly folded stack of robes kept fresh in a chest smelling of rosemary and cedar, she found the balled-up and bloody black robe.

"Here." She signaled to a sweeper. "Scan it."

"Nice sample." The sweeper snapped her gum, ran the nozzle of her shoulder unit over the cloth. "Mostly on the sleeves." Behind her protective goggles, the sweeper's eyes were mildly bored. "Human," she confirmed. "A neg. Can't tell you much more with a portable."

"That's enough." Eve slid the robe into a bag, sealed and labeled it for evidence. "Wineburg was A negative." She looked at Peabody as she handed the bag to her. "Careless of him, wasn't it?"

"Yes, sir." Dutifully, Peabody stored the bag in her evidence kit. "It would seem so."

"Lobar was O positive." She moved to another chest, hauled back the domed lid. "Keep looking."

Twilight had settled with its dim light and fitful breezes when she climbed back in her car. Since the tension was still simmering between her and Peabody, she didn't bother to speak but engaged her car 'link instead.

"Lieutenant Dallas for Dr. Mira."

"Dr. Mira is in session," the receptionist said politely. "I'll be happy to log your message."

"Has she tested Mirium Hopkins?"

"One moment while I check the logs." The receptionist slid her gaze to the side, then back. "That session has been rescheduled for eight thirty tomorrow morning."

"Rescheduled, why?"

"The log notes indicate that the subject complained of severe head pain, and on examination by the physician on duty, was medicated."

"Who was the physician on duty?" Eve asked through clenched teeth.

"Dr. Arthur Simon."

"Simon Says; figures." Disgusted, Eve whipped her car around a slow-moving maxibus packed with commuters. "He'll give you a double tranq for a hangnail."

The receptionist grimaced in sympathy. "I'm sorry, Lieutenant, but the subject was already medicated before her scheduled testing. Dr. Mira is unable to proceed until morning."

"Fine. Terrific. Ask her to let me know as soon as she's done." Eve broke transmission. "Son of a bitch. I'm going in to take a look at her, myself. Deliver the bags to the lab, Peabody, with a request for rush – for what good that does. Then you're off duty."

"You'll interview Forte again tonight."

"That's right."

"Sir, I request to be present during interview."

"Request denied," Eve said shortly as she pulled into the garage at Central. "I said you're off duty." She shoved out of the car and walked away.

– =O=-***-=O=-

It was midnight and her own head was aching viciously. The house was quiet when she slipped in, dragged herself up the stairs. It didn't surprise her to see Roarke, awake and on the bedroom 'link. She glanced at the monitor as she passed through and recognized the young, eager face of one of the engineers assigned to the Olympus Resort.

It made her think of the last few days of her honeymoon. There had been death there, as well. Big surprise, she thought as she leaned over the sink and splashed her face with cold water. There was never any escaping it.

She toweled off, then walked to the bed to sit and remove her boots. When they hit the floor, the effort of undressing further seemed beyond her. She crawled onto the bed and lay across it, facedown.

Roarke listened to his engineer with half an ear while he watched her. He knew the signs, the shadowed eyes, the pale skin, the slow, deliberate movements. She'd worked herself to the breaking point again – a habit that both fascinated and frustrated him.

"I'll get back to you on that tomorrow," he said and abruptly ended transmission. "You've had a bad one, Lieutenant."

She didn't stir when he straddled her and began to knead her neck and shoulders. "I know there's been worse," she murmured. "I just can't think of when right now."

"Louis Trivane's murder has been all over the news."

"Goddamn vultures."

He unhooked her weapon harness, wiggled it off her, and set it aside. "A prominent attorney gets himself hacked up in an exclusive private club, it's news." Competently, he worked his thumbs up her spine. "Nadine's called here several times."

"Yeah, she's buzzed Central, too. I don't have time for her."

"Mmm.'' He tugged her shirt free of her slacks, and used the heels of his hands. "Did you walk in on it, or was that added for entertainment value?"

"No, I walked in on it. Maybe if that idiot droid at the desk hadn't – " She broke off, shook her head. "I was too late. She'd already opened him up. She was still working on him, like a kid with a science project. She implicated Charles Forte."

"That's out, too."

"Of course it is," she said with a sigh. "You can't plug all the leaks."

"You have him in custody?"

"We're questioning him. I'm questioning him. He denies everything. I found physical evidence in his apartment, but he still denies everything."

Denies, she thought, while looking shocked, dislocated, terrified.

"Oh shit." She turned her head, pressed her face into the spread. "Oh shit."