Ceremony in Death (In Death #5)(91)

“Lobar, Lobar.” Her fingers kept tapping. “No, that was different. Wasn’t it? I can’t remember. I’m getting a headache.” Her voice turned petulant. “I don’t want to talk anymore now. I’m tired.” She laid her hands down on her folded arms and closed her eyes.

Eve watched her for a moment. There wasn’t any point in pushing now, she decided. She had enough.

Eve signaled a uniform. Mirium murmured sulkily as Eve slipped the restraints back into place. “Take her down to Psych. Get Mira to do the evaluation, if possible; make a note to request permission for a drug scan.”

“Yes, sir.” Eve stepped to the door behind them, pushed a call button. “Have Forte brought to Interview Room C.”

It occurred to her that she would like to lay her head on pillowed arms herself. Instead, she turned down the corridor into the observation area. Peabody stood beside Feeney.

“I want you in on this, Peabody. What did you think of her, Feeney?”

“She’s whacked.” He held out his bag of nuts. “Whether it’s psych or induced, I dunno. Looks like a mix of both to me.”

“That was my take. How come she seemed so damn normal the other night?” Then she pulled her hands through her hair and laughed. “I can’t believe I’m saying that. She was standing naked in the woods letting Forte kiss her crotch.”

She lowered her hands, pressed them to her eyes, then dropped them. “His father never used a partner. That was never hinted at. He worked alone.”

“So, he’s got a different style,” Feeney said. “Whacked or not, the girl pinned Forte.”

“It doesn’t feel right to me,” Peabody murmured, and Eve turned to her with a mildly interested glance.

“What doesn’t feel right, Officer?”

Detecting the light trace of sarcasm, Peabody lifted her jaw. “Wiccans don’t kill.”

“People kill,” Eve reminded her. “And not everybody takes their religion seriously. Had any red meat lately?”

The flush worked up from under Peabody’s starched uniform collar. Free-Agers were strict vegan and used no animal by-products. “That’s different.”

“I walked in on a murder,” Eve said shortly. “The woman with the knife in her hand identified Charles Forte as her accomplice. That’s fact. I don’t want you to take anything but fact into that interview room. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.” Peabody stiffened her shoulders. “Perfectly.” But she stood in place a moment longer when Eve strode off.

“She’s had a rough morning,” Feeney said sympathetically. “I got a quick scan of the first crime scene shots. It doesn’t get any rougher.”

“I know.” But she shook her head, watching as Charles Forte was led into the room behind the glass. “But it just doesn’t feel right.”

She turned away, headed around the corner, and stepped into the interview room just as Eve was reading Forte his rights.

“I don’t understand.”

“You don’t understand your rights and obligations?”

“No, no, I understand them. I don’t understand why I’m here.” There was puzzlement and a vague sense of disappointment as he turned his gaze toward Peabody. “If you’d wanted to speak with me again, you had only to ask. I would have met you, or come in voluntarily. It wasn’t necessary to send three uniformed officers to my home.”

“I thought it was necessary,” Eve answered shortly. “Do you want counsel or representation at this time, Mr. Forte?”

“No.” He shifted in agitation, tried to ignore the fact that he was inside a police facility. Like his father. “Just tell me what you want to know. I’ll try to help you.”

“Tell me about Louis Trivane.”

“I’m sorry.” He shook his head. “I don’t know anyone by that name.”

“Do you usually send your handmaids out to murder strangers?”

“What?” His face went white as he pushed himself to his feet. “What are you talking about?”

“Sit down.” Eve snapped the order out. “Louis Trivane was murdered two hours ago by Mirium Hopkins.”

“Mirium? That’s ridiculous. That’s impossible.”

“It’s very possible. I walked in while she was cutting out his liver.”

Chas swayed, then sank onto his chair. “There’s a mistake. It couldn’t be.”

“I think the mistake was yours.” Eve rose, wandered over, then leaned over his shoulder. “You should pick your weapons more carefully. When you use defective ones, they can turn on you.”

“I don’t know what you mean. May I have some water? I don’t understand this.”

Eve jerked a thumb to Peabody, signaling her to pour a glass. “Mirium told me everything, Chas. She told me that you were lovers, that you neglected to bring her Wineburg’s heart as promised, and that you’d allowed her to execute Trivane herself. Blood purifies.”

“No.” He lifted the glass in both hands and still slopped water over the edge as he tried to drink. “No.”

“Your father liked to slice people up. Did he show you how it was done? How many other defective tools have you used? Did you dispose of them after you’d finished with them? Keep any souvenirs?”