Echoes in Death (In Death 44)

Miko’s jewelry as well, Eve observed. Then she shined the light on a square-cut diamond and diamond-encrusted band on the third finger of the droid’s left hand.

All of the victims’ wedding rings had been stolen, but none matched this set.

“He put those rings on her finger. In his head, he married her. Replicated his aunt,” she said, “played dress up, and God knows what else with it. McNab, once you get those lights on, see what you can do with this droid.”

“Kept it all.” Tredway shined his beam over a large display table holding jewelry, three open cabinets carefully arranged with objets d’art and expensive dust catchers.

“Not only organized, boss,” Baxter pointed out, “but labeled. By victim. Jesus, the PA’s going to have a cakewalk.”

“Why walk in cake when you can eat it?” Eve queried, then lowered her flash after the lights snapped on.

“Trueheart, do a three-sixty record of this room before anybody touches anything.” When he didn’t respond, she turned toward him. He stood, staring at the droid.

“Detective Trueheart.”

“Sir. Sorry. I was just … It’s going to come out. How’s she going to feel when it comes out he used her to do all this? She’s probably a nice person, and it’s her own nephew. How’s she going to feel when all this comes out?”

“She’ll have to accept it had nothing to do with her. She’s as much an object to him as the stuff on those shelves. Get the three-sixty.”

As he did, Eve walked to the display table. He’d designed it in sections, with room for more. And had brass plates made. Every section, filled with shiny, glittery things, bore a name.

Rosa, Lori, Daphne, Miko.

Curious, she opened a drawer, found a collection of other plates, recognized several names of women on the list they’d created.

Future victims, she thought. Safe from him now.

“Dallas. Special little table over here.”

Eve crossed to Olsen. Under the glass top of a small, ornate table, one polished to a high gloss, a few pieces of jewelry rested on deep blue velvet. A single earring, a slim bangle bracelet, a pair of small hoop earrings, a necklace formed with multicolored beads.

“This is the sort of jewelry I can afford,” Olsen pointed out. “Everyday stuff—and the necklace is like something a clever kid might make. Like for his or her mother for a birthday or Mother’s Day.”

“Hers, the aunt’s. Maybe things he pocketed, during visits, things she’d think she lost or misplaced. Just a few tokens, probably from his childhood.”

“That’s my take. I recognize some of the things on the shelves from the stolen items, the insurance photos and descriptions.”

“And here’s a little dresser full of women’s fancy underwear.” Baxter gestured to a drawer he’d opened. “All labeled and organized. Got those little sachets in here with them.” He took one out, sniffed. “Nice.”

“You can bet that’ll be the aunt’s signature scent.” Peabody walked over to look. “And it’ll match the fancy perfume atomizer he’s got in the wardrobe area. All the cocktail dresses and shoes and bags on our list, Dallas. Along with perfume, a fancy hand mirror and brush set, a case of high-end droid cleaner.”

“Make sure it goes on the record.” She moved beyond the little table. “His dressing area. Let’s back up the record here, make sure we get it all. Costumes, makeup, work counter, wigs.”

“It’s a pro setup,” Peabody said. “It’s almost as good as the one at the studio. That tub there? It’s what they use for making prosthetics, like noses and—”

“Devil horns?” Eve suggested.

“Yeah.”

“Let’s pull in the sweepers. He’ll have had whatever he wore during the attacks cleaned, but there may be trace, may be blood.” As she spoke, she stepped over to a long black coat with a hood. “Give me the UV light from the kit. I can fucking smell blood on this.”

Peabody dug it out, switched it on. “Holy shit,” she said as the black coat lit up with spatters and smears of harsh purple.

“Didn’t get it cleaned yet. Busy boy. Tag it, bag it for the sweepers. I want this into the lab and tested asap.”

“Dallas?” McNab gestured her over to the droid. “She was programmed to respond only to Knightly’s voice and command. Pretty simple bypass. You can ask her questions now.”

“What is your name?”