Devoted in Death (In Death #41)(7)

Classy old-world, was Eve’s sense. The sort of deal Roarke preferred. Rich, deep colors, sink-in sofas and chairs. High backs, graceful curves. Dark, gleaming wood, the glint of silver and crystal. Flowers in vases that looked old and precious, candles in slender holders.

Art ran to landscapes, cityscapes, seascapes.

“Let’s take this floor first, see if he kept an office down here. We’ll want a look at his computers, his house ’link.”

Eve moved left, Peabody right.

When Eve opened double pocket doors, she found the unrestricted space created one large L. Living area, dining area, kitchen.

A serious sort of kitchen, she concluded, with a massive cooktop and oven in addition to double AutoChefs, miles of counter done in pale gold with tiny glinting flecks. Like beach sand, she thought as she walked through, opened cabinet doors, drawers at random.

A lot of serious kitchen tools, precisely organized.

Tucked inside a large, fully stocked pantry, she found a house droid created to depict a pleasant-faced, middle-aged woman of short stature and sturdy build. The droid wore a gray uniform and white apron, and the dead-eyed expression of a droid at rest.

“Got a droid here!” Eve called out, and began to examine it for its manual operating switch.

“There’s a powder room, a totally mag music room,” Peabody began as she came in. “Piano, cello, double bass, three violins, flutes, piccolos. It’ll open up just like this area. High-class party central. Here.”

She moved around Eve, reached under the steel-gray bun at the base of the droid’s neck and did whatever needed to be done to activate.

The dead blue eyes became full of life and merriment. The slack mouth curved up in a cheerful smile.

“And what is it I can be doing for you this fine morning?”

The plank-thick Irish brogue would have made Roarke – whose own Irish was like a hint of music gliding through words – laugh or wince. Eve just lifted her eyebrows, and her badge.

The merry eyes scanned the badge, processed, confirmed. “And what, Lieutenant ma’am, would the local gardi be wanting with the likes of me?”

“Dallas. Lieutenant Dallas. Detective Peabody. At what time were you last activated?”

“I’ll be pleased to answer that, and any other questions you might have once I’ve cleared the matter with my Dorian. That scamp would still be abed at this hour if you hadn’t come ’round.”

“  ‘Scamp’?”

“He’s a lively one, he is. Works hard, plays the same. If he’s been waked so early, he’ll be wanting his coffee. I’m happy to serve you as well.”

“He won’t be wanting his coffee. Dorian Kuper is dead.”

Something resembling shock came and went in the droid’s eyes. “I can’t process that information. Please repeat.”

Once again Peabody moved in. “Could we have your name?”

“I’m Maeve.”

“Maeve, we regret to inform you Dorian was killed last night. We’re very sorry for your loss.”

“But, he’s young and healthy.” Grief, and anyone would have sworn sincere, clouded the voice, the eyes. “Killed? An accident?”

“He was murdered. Let’s move out here,” Eve demanded. “There’s no point standing in a closet.”

“No one would do him harm. I think there’s a mistake of some sort, begging your pardon.”

“There’s no mistake,” Eve began. “His identification’s been verified and confirmed.”

The droid moved to the counter, sat on one of the stools. “Why are humans so fragile?”

“It’s a mystery. When did you last interact with Dorian?”

“One moment, please.” The eyes went blank for a moment, then filled with apparent distress. “Ah God, ah God. My records show it’s been sixty-two hours and eighteen minutes since my Dorian deactivated me. Has he been dead so long?”

“No. No one has activated you until now?”

“No.”

Eve wondered why the officer on the missing persons hadn’t activated and questioned the house droid – then remembered the report had only just been filed.

“Was Dorian alone when he deactivated you?”

“He was, aye. He was going out to the rehearsal hall, he said, before the evening’s performance. It’s Giselle they’re doing right now. He said not to wait up for him – he liked to joke with me – and that he’d wake me himself in the morning as it might be late on both counts. He thought to have a late supper with friends. He often did so.”

“You could give us a full list of his friends, of people who’ve been on his guest list here for parties.”

“I could certainly. I could generate that for you, print it as well if that would help you. Or I can interface with any computer and create a disc.”

“Intimate friends, too,” Eve said.

“My Dorian had a large and lively group of friends, of all manner. He enjoyed having parties and musicales here, or quiet evenings with just a few, or the one of the moment.”

Like a doorman, Eve thought, a house droid could be informative. “Anyone get pissed when they were no longer the one of the moment?”

“I never heard of it, and sure I would have. He talked to me, my Dorian, and would have said if he’d been troubled by a difficult ending. For those intimate friendships, as you say, he tended toward those who wanted as he did, of the moment. He wasn’t ready to settle down. His music came first, always. When he worked, Lieutenant, he worked.”