Born in Death (In Death #23)(15)

“The gel cushions mold to your shape.” Tandy beamed. “It’ll adjust to you, or you can program a preferred setting—manually, or by voice recognition. Positions, movements, all can be adjusted manually or by voice—controls are under both arm pads—for right- or left-hand use. Just flip it open with a finger.”

Tandy demonstrated, revealing the board. “And there’s a new feature on the Delux model Mavis is loopy for. Baby sleeping, Mum’s tired?” Tandy tapped three buttons, and the chair hummed gently as its side opened and a small padded box lifted out and up.

“You just shift, lay the baby in the chair-side cradle, and both of you can take a little nap.”

“That is so completely uptown.” Peabody cooed again, like a mourning dove.

“It’s safe for up to twenty pounds, will also rock independent of the chair. There’s also a small storage compartment on the other side, to hold burp cloths, nursing pads, extra receiving blankets. I swear, it’ll do everything but feed and change the baby for you.”

“Okay.” With some relief, Eve pulled herself out of the chair.

“It got top ratings fromBaby Style, Parenting, andToday’s Family magazines. The Mommy Channel had it as their top pick last year.”

“Sold.”

“Really?” A happy flush pinked Tandy’s cheeks. “Oh, that’s brilliant. That’s mag.”

“You can get it to the house, right, for the shower?”

“Absolutely. And since I have some pull around here, I’ll arrange for the second delivery to Mavis’s apartment to be included. No extra charge.”

“Appreciate it.” As an afterthought, Eve studied the chair again. “How much is this thing?”

When Tandy named the price, Peabody gulped audibly. Eve just stared and said, “Holy crap.”

“I know, it’s awfully dear, but it’s really worth the price. And I can offer you a ten percent discount on anything purchased today if you open a White Stork account.”

“No, no thanks.” That, Eve thought as she rubbed her hands over her face, might just be tempting fate. “I’ll pay the full shot. The one in the colors Mavis likes.”

“It’s a fully awesome gift, Dallas,” Peabody told her.

“It is. It really is.” Tandy’s eyes actually went damp. “She’s so lucky to have a friend like you.”

“Damn right.”

It’s only money, Eve reminded herself as she completed the transaction. Only a whole shitload of money. While she reeled from sticker shock, Peabody and Tandy bubbled on about babies, the shower, baby gadgets. When they segued into breast-feeding, Eve drew her line.

“We gotta go. Crime and stuff.”

“I’m so glad you stopped in, and not just because of the sale. I just can’t wait until the shower on Saturday. My social life’s a little thin these days,” she added with an easy laugh. “Mavis’s baby shower is the highlight on my calendar. Except for this one’s birthday.” She patted her belly. “The rocker system will be delivered the day before, by noon. Any problems, any at all, just contact me here.”

“Will do. Thanks, Tandy.”

“See you soon!”

It was with gratitude that Eve stepped out of the warm, scented, musical air and into the cold, windy noise of the city. “What time is it, Peabody?”

“Ah, about thirteen-thirty.”

“I want to go lie down in a dark room.”

“Well…”

“On duty, no rest for the traumatized. Soy fries will have to substitute for the comfort of oblivion.”

“We eat?” Peabody nearly did a dance. “We should go shopping more often.”

“Bite your tongue.”

4

EVE WASN’T SURE WHAT IT SAID ABOUT HER that she was more comfortable in the morgue than in a baby boutique. And she didn’t actually care. The cold white walls, the scent of death under the piney odors of cleansers were the familiar.

She pushed through the thick door into Autopsy as Morris, the chief medical examiner, transferred Bick Byson’s brain from his skull to a scale.

“A two-for-one sale, I see.” Morris—his spiffy suit of the day protected with a clear plastic cape—paused to enter data. Then he set the brain in a tray.

He wasn’t tall, but he was built in a way the chocolate brown suit and dull gold T-shirt exploited. He was oddly sexy with those dark, slightly slanted eyes and the ink black hair scooped back in a tight, intricate braid.

“That’s how I see it,” Eve agreed. “You concur. Same method, same killer?”

“Physical force and trauma. In technical terms, he whaled away on them. Binding, ankles, wrists. I’d be very surprised if the CSIs don’t find the tape came from the same roll for both your vics. Death by strangulation on each. Male vic was stunned—full contact just above the sternum. He also has, as you noted in your on-scene, bruises and lacerations on his knuckles. He fought back. I removed a few bits of ceramic from his back and bu**ocks.”

“Broken lamp. Looks like he grabbed it from the bedroom, came out into the living area, tried to use it as a weapon on the intruder.”

“No postmortem trauma on either. When your killer was done, he was done. No sexual assault on either. Your female vic…”