Secrets in Death (In Death #45)(32)

Eve frowned, slid her hands in her pockets. “DeWinter said the same. Still, a lot of people find a way to fudge their age. And she’s in entertainment.”

“Yes, however…” He let that go a moment as Peabody hustled in.

“It’s just now eight!”

“We started early,” Eve told her, noting her partner kept her line of sight several inches above the open chest on the slab. “Morris concludes she died roughly four minutes after the attack.”

“That’s fast.”

“And he tells me she’s about ten years older than her ID claims.”

Peabody lowered her gaze to Mars’s face. “Mid-forties then. She looks more like mid-thirties.”

“And so she should,” Morris confirmed. “She’s had considerable work done. Face and body. And yes, many people do,” he added before Eve could comment. “But not all that many have complete facial reconstruction.”

“Reconstruction.” Now he had Eve’s full attention. “How can you tell?”

“There are always little signs, even with exceptional work. And some I can feel by manipulating. The computer screening verifies. Her chin, her nose, her brow, even her eye sockets, her cheekbones—all underwent reconstruction.”

“Peabody, check and see if she was in any sort of major accident.”

“Her body,” Morris continued. “Breast enhancement, body sculpting that includes a butt lift, belly tuck—regular on both, as those treatments require tune-ups. Arm sculpting as well as calf implants.”

“Implants. On her calves?”

“To give the appearance of good muscle tone. She’s opted for a permanent bikini cut on the pubis.”

“That has to hurt,” Peabody muttered as she searched on her PPC.

“Also had the hair permanently removed from her legs, armpits. Plumping treatment—very recently—on the lips. Skin resurfacing. Again, I’d say with some regularity, and that’s full body, not only her face. She’s undergone sterilization, and has not given birth. Ah, and her hair? Root system coloring. She’s not a natural blonde, and undergoes what would be twice-yearly treatments to maintain this color.”

“I’ve heard about that.” Peabody lowered her PPC. “It’s not only a major ouch unless you pay to go under, but costs about ten grand and requires a two-day stay. No major accidents, Dallas. No major injuries, right back to childhood.”

“So she opted for a new face.” Intrigued, Eve once again circled the body. “Can you tell how long ago, for the reconstruction?”

“I’ll need to run more tests.”

“And would they include giving me a picture of what she looked like before?”

Now Morris frowned. “I might be able to simulate, to an extent. Calculating margins and most probables. It’s not—”

“Wait. Better idea.” She yanked out her PPC. “Did you tell DeWinter about the reconstruction, the age difference?”

“No, of course I didn’t.” He looked mildly insulted. “You’re the primary. You get my conclusions and observations.”

“I didn’t mean it like a poke. I just— Forensic anthro. You can work with her on it, right?”

“I … Of course.” Glancing down at Mars, that faint irritation changed to interest. He nodded. “Yes, we can work on this. I should have thought of it myself.”

“How about you tag her, tell her what we’re after and why?”

“I will, though I’m curious as to the why. Why it matters what she once looked like.”

“Because if she changed her whole damn face, it might be she changed her name, her data, and everything on there’s bogus. People don’t become somebody else unless there’s a reason. The reason may have a bearing on who killed her.”

“This is why you’re the murder cop and I’m the dead doctor. I’ll ask Garnet to join the investigative team.” Once again, he looked down at Mars. “I suspect she’ll need to take our subject down to the bone.”

Peabody said, quietly, “Eew.”

“I’ll clear it. She’s got no living next of kin listed. Nobody to ask for permission. Let’s find out who the hell she really was. Thanks, Morris. I like your tie,” she said as she headed out.

More stunned than surprised she’d comment on any sort of fashion, he laughed. “Thank you.”

“I’m heading into Central, which means I’m about to get my eyes burned by whatever Jenkinson’s tied around his neck. So I thought I should tell you I liked yours.”

Peabody jogged to catch up. “McNab made headway on the electronics, and he’s back at it this morning. His brain needed a rest—I had to bring the hammer down on him. He’d been working an e-case for the last four days, almost twenty-four/seven until it broke yesterday. I can tell when he’s hitting the line, and he was sliding over it. He needed some sack time, some solid down.”

“No problem.”

“He did say she paid a lot of scratch for security on her e-toys. Serious scratch. He likes that sort of challenge, and he peeled away some layers. He’ll have the rest pulled today.”

Peabody dropped into the passenger seat. “Can I have coffee?”