Echoes in Death (In Death 44)

She turned away, circled the room.

“You think not.”

“I don’t think yet. What I know is that her personal tablet reads like she’s staff. Lists and chores and menus. No photos, no notes to friends, sent or received. She lost her parents when she was nine, but there’s nothing in the tablet, nothing I’ve seen in the house to remind her of them. Or of the people who raised her. They have a daughter about her age. Were they friends or foes?”

“What would any of that tell you about the assault and the murder?”

“Don’t know until I know.” She leaned back on the desk. “He had male enhancement pills in his nightstand—not surprising for a man twice his wife’s age. And a silk blindfold and binding cord.”

“A little sexual bondage between willing partners is hardly surprising, either.”

“If it’s mutual,” she agreed. “He’s got a full med kit in the bathroom, and that’s not surprising for a doctor. It’s not surprising he kept it in a medical bag. A fancy one with his initials engraved on it, and with a lock it took me nearly ten minutes to pick.”

“I’m proud of you. But ten?” Roarke shook his head. “We need more practice, Lieutenant.”

“A lot of stuff in there—bottles, pills, syringes. I’m going to have everything analyzed. Just to be thorough. I need the vic’s lawyer, the insurance company. I have to hope EDD can pull that out of the comps straight off, save me time and trouble.”

“I think you can count on that.”

“Okay, then I’m going to leave the house to the sweepers for now, and head out, work down the guest list, see what kind of party we had going. Hit the party staff, swing by to see if I can get more out of Daphne Strazza, and … so on. Sorry about the quiet Sunday at home.”

“I don’t think either of us is to blame for nearly running into a naked, traumatized woman on the street.”

“Yeah, but only one of us is a cop.”

“And thank God for it.” This time he kissed her enthusiastically. “Your vehicle’s out front, and I have my own. I may wander into EDD myself later in the day.”

“Because you find geek work as entertaining as shopping.”

“I do. Meanwhile?” He tapped a finger on the dent of her chin. “Take care of my cop.”

When he left, she sat down again to make the notifications.

She made notes, revised others, checked on Daphne Strazza—under mild sedation, sleeping, undisturbed. No visitors.

She took a pass at the guest list she’d copied onto her PPC, devised a system for the first half dozen guests.

And found Peabody downstairs doing a search of the manly den.

“I figured I’d hit the more personal spaces,” Peabody began.

“Good figuring. Anything?”

“More meticulous organizing, so what’s out of place sticks out. I think there are some things missing. You can see the vic had a bunch of awards and photos—or his photo with important types. But whatever was on that pedestal thing’s gone, and there’s a couple spaces on those shelves. See how it’s all precise? Everything pretty much equidistant from each other. Except for that glass plaque and that framed wedding photo.”

“I get you. Something was between them, and between that really ugly bowl and that other ugly bowl.”

“Yeah. We can surmise whatever was there took the killer’s fancy. He didn’t bother with, say, this throw—handmade silk batik, and probably worth several thousand. And that lamp? It’s a signed Terrezio. That’s about ten grand.”

“For that lamp?” Flabbergasted, Eve stared at the triangular gold base, the triangular shade with its white and gold glass panels. “Seriously?”

> “Deadly. I know because Mavis and I went with Nadine to this fancy auction last week, and Nadine bought one. She got hers for eight-five, and I like it a lot better than this one, but—”

Flabbergasted yet again, Eve waved a hand. “Nadine bought a lamp for eight and a half large?”

“She’s got that big new apartment to furnish.”

“How am I friends with any of you? How is this possible?”