J Robb - Imitation in Death

His eyes were deep, melted-chocolate brown, his skin the color of coffee light.

“Ah,LieutenantDallas. Or do I call youMrs.Roarke?”

EveheardPeabody ’s smothered snort, ignored it. “You call meLieutenantDallas.”

“Of course, of course.” He strode in, vest streaming, and took the hand she’d yet to offer in both of his. “It’s just that I only made the connection this morning.” He gave her hand an intimate squeeze, then turned his charm onPeabody. “And who might you be?”

“My aide,OfficerPeabody. I have some questions,Mr.Smith.”

“More than happy to answer them.” He tookPeabody ’s hand as he hadEve ’s. “Please, please, sit. Li’s bringing us some tea. I have a special morning blend for energy. It’s simply fantastic. Call meCarmichael.”

He lowered smoothly to a peach-colored cushion and took the little cat into his lap. “There now, Snowdrop, did you think Daddy had forgotten you?”

She didn’t want to sit on one of the cushions, nor did she want to remain standing and towering over him. So she sat on the table.

“Can you tell me where you were, early yesterday morning, betweenmidnight and threeA.M.?”

Like the cat, he blinked. “Well, that sounds very official. Is there some problem?”

“Yes, the murder of a woman inChinatown.”

“I don’t understand. Such negative energy.” He breathed deep. “We try to keep a positive flow in this house.”

“Yeah, I’m sureJacieWooton found being sliced up a pretty negative experience. Can you verify your whereabouts,Mr.Smith?”

“Li,” he said as the black woman in flowing white streamed in. “Do I know anyone namedJacieWooton?”

“No.”

“Do we know where I was night before last, betweenmidnight and three?”

“Yes, of course.” She poured pale gold tea from a pale blue pot into pale blue cups. “You were attending the dinner party hosted by the Rislings until ten. You escortedMs.Hubble home, had a nightcap with her in her apartment, and returned here aboutmidnight. You spent twenty minutes in your isolation tank to eliminate any negativity before retiring. You were in bed by one-thirty, and had your usual wake-up call at eight the following morning.”

“Thank you.” He picked up the teacup she’d set on the table. “It’s difficult for me to keep all those details in my head. I’d be lost without Li.”

“I’d like the names and addresses of the people you were with, to verify this information.”

“I’m feeling very unsettled about this.”

“It’s routine,Mr.Smith. When I confirm your alibi, I can move on.”

“Li will provide you with anything you need.” He made a gesture with his hand. “It’s important to my well-being, to my work, to keep my senses stimulated by the positive, by love and by beauty.”

“Right. You have a standing order fromWhittier ’s inLondon for a certain type of stationery. Your last purchase of it was four months ago.”

“No. I never purchase anything. I can’t go into shops, you see. My fans are so enthusiastic. I have things brought in to me, or Li, or one of my staff goes into the shops. I do enjoy good stationery. I feel it’s important to send personal notes, on good paper, to friends or those who’ve made some contribution.”

“Cream-colored, heavy-eight bond. Unrecycled.”

“Unrecycled?” He ducked his head, smiling into his cup like a small boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “I’m ashamed to say I have been using something like that. Not very green of me, but it’s gorgeous paper. Li, does my writing paper come fromLondon?”

“I can check.”

“She’ll check.”

“Fine. I’d like a sample of it, too, if you don’t mind, and the names of any staff members who were authorized to make purchases for you inLondon.”

“I’ll take care of that.” Li glided out again.

“I don’t quite understand how my writing paper could interest you.”

“There was a note, written on that style of paper, left with the body.”

“Please.” He lifted both hands, drawing them up his own body as he breathed in, pushing them outward as he exhaled. “I don’t want that sort of image corrupting my senses. That’s why I listen only to my own music. I never watch the media reports, except for specially selected features on entertainment or society. There’s too much darkness in the world. Too much despair.”

“Tell me about it.”

WhenEve left, she had a sample of his writing paper, and the names of his staffers inLondon.

“He’s weird,” Peabody commented. “But he’s built. And he just doesn’t seem like the type who’d go hunting LCs.”

“He likes to have multi-partner sex, occasionally with minors.”

“Oh.” Peabody wrinkled her nose as she glanced back toward the house. “So much for my instincts on this one.”

“Maybe he figures underage groupies have less negativity, sexually speaking, than any grown woman who could listen to that crap he plays and not run screaming after five minutes.”

She got into the car, slammed the door. “If that stinking ‘Love Lights the World’ sticks in my head, I’m coming back here and beating him with a club.”

“Now that’s positive,” Peabody decided.

Knowing the security at the U.N. was tight,Eve decided to avoid a possible pissing match with guards and parked in a second-level street ramp onFirst Avenue.

The little cross-block hike would help work off the doughnuts.

They still allowed tours-she’d checked-but they were stringently regulated with the threat of terrorism always a thunderhead ready to storm. But nations throughout the world, and the recognized off-planet factions, had their meetings and assemblies, their votes and their agendas, inside the huge white building that dominated its six-block stretch.

The flags still waved, a colorful symbol,Eve supposed, of man’s willingness to get together and talk about the problems of humanity. And occasionally do something about them.

Even with their names on the visitors’ list, she andPeabody went through a series of checkpoints. At the first, they surrendered their weapons, a requirement that always madeEve twitchy.

Their badges were scanned, their fingerprints verified.Peabody ’s bag was scanned, then hand-searched. All electronics, including ‘links, PPCs, and communicators, were taken through analysis.

They passed through a metal detector, an incendiary device detector, a weapon identifier, and a body scanner, all before being cleared through entry level.

“Okay,”Eve declared. “Maybe they’ve got to be careful, but I’m drawing the line at a cavity search.”

“Some of these security levels were added after the Cassandra incident.” Peabody stepped withEve and a uniformed guard into a bombproof elevator.

“Next time we need to talk to Renquist, he comes to us.”

They were escorted off the elevator and directly to another checkpoint where they were scanned, analyzed, and verified again.

They were passed from the guard to a female aide who was equally military in bearing. The aide’s retina scan and voice command unlocked a bomb door. Through it, they moved from paranoid security to daily business.

It was a hive of offices, but a very big hive with very efficient chambers. Here, the high-level drones wore conservative suits and headsets, with heels that clicked briskly on tiled floors. The windows were triple-sealed and equipped with air-traffic detectors that would slam down impact shields at any threat. But they let in the light and a decent view of the river.

A tall, thin man in unrelieved gray nodded at the aide, smiled atEve.

“LieutenantDallas, I’mThomasNewkirk, personal assistant toMr.Renquist. I’ll escort you from here.”