Fantasy in Death (In Death #30)(13)

But his face flickered on-screen, and those bold blue eyes fixed on hers. “Lieutenant, nice to hear from you.”

The combination of those eyes, the faint lilt of the green hills and valleys of Ireland in his voice, might have turned a weaker woman into a gooey puddle. As it was she couldn’t stop the quick jump of her heart.

“Sorry to interrupt whatever.”

“I’m on my way back from a lunch meeting, so you caught me at a good time.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Where?”

“Florence. The pasta was exceptional. What can I do for you?”

“I caught a case.”

“You often do.”

Better quick, she thought. It somehow always was. “It’s Bart Minnock.”

It changed—the easy good humor, the innate flirtation dropped away. The hard lines of anger didn’t diminish that striking face, but instead made the compelling the dangerous.

“What happened to him?”

“I can’t get into all the details now, but I just found out you knew him. I didn’t want you to hear about it on a media report.”

“Has it to do with his work or was it personal?”

“It’s too soon to say, but his work’s involved.”

“Where are you?”

“U-Play.”

“I’ll be landing in about twenty minutes. I’ll be there within forty.”

“Roarke—”

“If it’s to do with his work, I’ll be helpful. If it doesn’t... We’ll see. He was a sweet boy, Eve. A sweet, brilliant, and harmless boy. I want to do what I can for him.”

She’d expected as much. “Find Feeney when you get here. I’m sorry, Roarke.”

“So am I. How did he die?” When she said nothing, sorrow clouded over the anger. “That bad, was it?”

“I’ll talk to you when you get here. It’s complicated.”

“All right then. It’s good he has you. I’ll be there soon.”

Eve took a breath. He would be helpful, she thought as she stared at the blank screen of her ’link. Not only with the e-work, but with the business. Feeney and his crew knew their e, but they didn’t know the business. Roarke would.

She checked the time, then tried for Morris.

“Dallas.”

“Give me what you can,” she asked. “I don’t know when I’m going to get in there.”

“My house is always open for you. I can tell you he had no drugs or alcohol in his system. Your vic was a healthy twenty-nine—despite, it seems, an appetite for cheese and onion soy chips and orange fizzies. There’s some minor bruising, and the more serious gash on his arm, all peri-mortem. His head was severed with one blow, with a broad, sharp blade.” Morris used the flat of his hand to demonstrate.

“Like an axe?”

“I don’t think so. An axe is generally thicker on the backside. A wedge shape. I’d say a sword—a very large, very strong sword used with considerable force, and from slightly above. A clean stroke.” Again he demonstrated, fisting his hands as if on a hilt, then swinging like a batter at the plate, and cleaving forward. “The anomaly—”

“Other than some guy getting his head cut off with a sword?”

“Yes, other than. There are slight burns in all the wounds. I’m still working on it, but my feeling is electrical. Even the bruising shows them.”

“An electrified sword?”

Humor warmed his eyes. “Our jobs are never tedious, are they? I’ll be with him for a while yet. He’s a very interesting young man.”

“Yeah. I’ll get back to you.”

She pocketed her ’link and began to pace.

A victim secured, alone, in his own holo-room, beheaded by a sword, potentially with electric properties.

Which made no sense.

He couldn’t have been alone because it took two—murderer and victim. So there’d been a breach in his security. Or he’d paused the game, opened up, and let his killer inside. It would have to be someone he trusted with his big secret project.

Which meant his three best pals were top of the suspect list. All alibied, she mused, but how hard was it for an e-geek to slip through building security, head over a few blocks, slip through apartment security, and ask their good pal Bart to open up and play?

Which didn’t explain how they’d managed to get the weapon inside, but again, it could be done.

It had been done.

Reset everything, go back to work.

Less than an hour, even with cleanup time.

Someone at U-Play or someone outside who’d earned the vic’s trust.

Possibly a side dish. Someone he snuck in himself, after he’d told his droid to shut down. He liked to show off. Guys tended to show off for sex, especially illicit sex.

The murder wasn’t about sex, but part of the means might be.

She shuffled the thoughts back at the timid knock on the glass door. Overall Girl, she thought as she came in, who’d added red, weepy eyes to her ensemble.

“They said I had to come up and talk with you ’cause somebody killed Bart. I wanna go home.”

“Yeah, me, too. Sit down.”

Halfway through her complement of interviews, Eve got her first buzz.