«Here, sweetie, here, my baby.» With love bursting inside her, she hurried over to lift the child into her arms.
«Daddy.»
«I know. I know.» She stroked her child's hair, kissed her damp cheek. «I know. I miss him, too.»
And in a strange way, one she couldn't understand herself, she spoke the pure truth.
11
Eve cleared her mind and let herself see. The quiet house. Familiar. Through the door, alone. She'd gone to the Center alone. Killed alone.
Back to the kitchen. Why the tray? she asked herself as she took the route she imagined the killer had used. To comfort and distract.
Someone he knew. Had he known his father's killer, hidden that?
In the kitchen, she stood a moment, gauging the ground.
«The domestic didn't put the food on a tray. It's unlikely Icove did it for himself.»
«Maybe he was expecting her all along,» Peabody suggested. «So he shut down the droids.»
«Possible. But why lock down for the night? You're expecting company, why set full night security? Could have set it, shut down the droids, then been contacted by her. Came down, let her in himself. Hey, let's have a snack.»
But she didn't like it.
«The way he was positioned on the couch up in the office. It's not entertaining company. It's 'I just want to lie down awhile.' Let's try it this way for now. She comes in, knows the code or has clearance. She comes back here, puts the food together. She knows he's upstairs.»
«How does she know?»
«Because she knows him. She knows. Could easily verify by the house scanner if she's not a hundred percent. Probably used it, yeah. I would have. Confirm not only his location, but that he was alone in the house. Checks the droids, too, makes sure they're shut down. Carries the tray up.»
She turned, walked the way she'd come.
Was she nervous? Eve wondered. Did the plate rattle on the tray, or was she calm as a sea of ice?
Outside the office door, Eve mimed holding a tray, cocked her head «If he's locked in, she'd use voice command to unlock and open. Why put the tray down to free her hands? Let's have EDD take a look, see what they see.»
«Check.»
Eve walked in, studied the angle. «He wouldn't have seen her, not at first. He'd have heard her if he'd been awake, but he was facing away from the door. Crosses over, sets the tray down. Did they talk? I brought you a little something. You need to eat, take care of yourself. See, that's wifely. She shouldn't have bothered with the tray. That's a mistake.»
Eve eased a hip down near the outside center of the sofa. There'd been room for that, she thought, bringing the image of Icove's body position into her mind. «If she sat like this, it blocks him from getting up and it's wifely again. It's nonthreatening. Then all she has to do is…
Eve leaned forward, fisting her hand as if holding the handle of a blade, pressed it down.
«Cold.»
«Yeah, but not entirely. The tray's the thing. Maybe the content were tranq'd, and it was backup. Otherwise it was, I don't know, maybe guilt. Give the guy a last meal. There was nothing like that the first time. Go in, do it, walk out. No frills.»
She got up again. «Everything else is efficient. Lock the door behind you, take the discs, reset security. This tray keeps shouting at me.»
She blew out a breath. «Roarke does stuff like that. Pushes food on me. It's an instinct with him. If I'm feeling off or upset, he's going to be shoving a bowl or plate under my nose.»
«He loves you.»
«That's right. Whoever did this had feelings for him. A relationship of some sort.»
She took a turn around the room. «Let's go back to him. Why does he lock himself in here?»
«To work.»
«Yeah. But he lies down. Tired, off, maybe he thinks better on his back. Whatever.» She poked into the adjoining bath as she thought it through. «Kinda dinky bathroom for a swank house like this.»
«It's off the office, inaccessible from the rest. He wouldn't need plush.»
«Yes, he does,» Eve responded. «Look at the rest of the space. Oversized, fancy furniture, art. His private bath at the center was bigger than this, and this is his home.»
Curious now, she stepped all the way in. «Dimension's aren't right, Peabody.»
She hurried out, Peabody behind her, and went to Avril's office on the other side of the bath. She stared at the wall, covered with art, the small table, two chairs precisely centered.
«There's something between. Something between this wall and the bath.» Walking back over, she studied the small linen and supply closet, pulled the doors open.
She rapped the back with a fist. «Hear that?»
«Solid. Heavy. Probably reinforced. Hot doggies! We got us a secret room, Dallas.»
They searched for a mechanism, running hands over the walls, the shelves. Finally, Eve sat back on her heels, muttered a curse, and pulled out her 'link.
«Can you squeeze out any time between formulating plans for world domination and buying all the turkey in all the land?»
«Possibly. If there was incentive.»
«I've got a hidden room. Can't find entry. It's probably electronically activated. I can call in EDD, but since you're still home, you're closer.»
«Address.»
She gave it to him.
«Ten minutes.»
Eve sat more comfortably on the floor. «I'll wait for him, contact tr ??? alibi while I do. You want to have chats with some of the neighbors.»
«No problem.»
Eve made the call from where she sat, and wasn't surprised when Avril's Hamptons alibi checked out precisely. For the hell of it, she contacted the ice-cream parlor where Avril stated she'd taken the children. And was again unsurprised when the statement held up to the letter.
«You were damn well prepared,» she muttered, and rising, walked back downstairs.
She tagged Morris.
«Just about to buzz you, Dallas. Stomach contents confirm the reported last meal. Tox shows a blocker. Standard stuff. And a mild tranq. Both ingested under an hour prior to death.»
«How mild?»
«He'd have been relaxed, a little sleepy. He had a standard dose in him of both meds. A cocktail you might take if you had a nasty headache and wanted to rest.»
«Fits.» She thought of his position on the sofa. «Yeah, it fits. Got anything else?»
«No other trauma. Healthy male, superior face and body work. He'd have been conscious at time of death, but groggy. Identical weapon, single wound to the heart.»
The door opened, and Roarke strolled in. «All right. Appreciate the speed. Later. You didn't have to pick the locks,» she said to Roarke.
«Practice. Lovely home.» He studied the decor of the foyer and living area. «A bit overly traditional, not particularly creative, but love of its kind.»
«I'll be sure to put that in my report.» She jerked a thumb toward the stairs, then started up.
«It's good security, by the way,» he said conversationally. «It would have taken me longer if EDD hadn't already fiddled with it. As it was, a couple of neighbors gave me the eye. I believe they took me for a cop. Amazing.»
She glanced over at him, the god of eye candy in his ten-thousand-dollar suit. «No, they didn't. It's in here.»
He looked around the office. He could see the trace dust left by the sweepers, noted the lack of electronics. Already in EDD, he assumed. «The paintings are the best part of the decor.»
He walked to a chalk sketch, an informal family portrait. Icove sitting on the floor, one foot planted, his wife sitting beside him, head tipped toward his arm, her legs swept to the side. And the children snuggled in front of them.
«Lovely, loving work. Pretty family. The young widow is talented.»
«I'll say.» But Eve took time out to stand beside him, study the portrait. «Loving work?»
«The pose, the light, the body Language, her lines and curves. It strikes me as a happy moment.»