Obsession in Death (In Death #40)(38)

“Those dogs had boots.”

“I guess their paws get cold,” Peabody said.

“Huh. Who makes tiny dog boots? Who thinks to make tiny dog boots? How do you know what size to buy? This is an area with many, many questions.”

Mr. Atelli will receive you. Please use Elevator C. Enjoy your visit, and the rest of your day.

The elevator rode swiftly and silently to the penthouse level, then opened into a private foyer painted dove-wing gray and holding a pair of black lacquer benches. A large white orchid bowed between them from a pedestal in the form of an elongated, naked woman.

Niches ranged on the opposing walls, all filled with jewel-toned bottles and statues – all women in various states of undress.

Even as she stepped up to press the button on the inner door, Carmine opened it.

He wore black lounging pants in a silky hue, and some sort of short black robe, open over a snug white tank. Gilded blond hair fell in tousled waves around a sharply handsome face. He smiled, gestured them in. A large stone winked on his finger – the same silvery blue as his eyes.

“Ladies, an unexpected pleasure.”

“Not ladies, not a pleasure. Cops and police business.”

“Different perspectives. Please, come in, sit.”

Windows backed the living area, with dwarf lemon trees, heavy with fruit, bathing in the pale winter sun that slipped through them.

Low-slung gel sofas in navy, double-wide chairs in navy and gray stripes ranged with tables with a dull nickel finish. Splashes of color came from the art – the female form again, in every hue, sinuous or robust, sensual or pastoral.

As he gestured for them to sit, a woman wandered down a curve of steps. Her hair tumbled, flame-red, down the back of a short, white robe that gapped open enough to showcase impressive breasts – and the fact that she was a natural redhead, or had her hair colored above and below.

Her voice, sleepy as her cat-green eyes, purred. “You want coffee, baby?”

“Sure do. I wake you up?”

“The ringer did, but that’s okay. Josie’s out though.”

“Maybe we’ll both wake her up when I’m done here.” He sent her a grin and a wink, got a husky laugh as she kept wandering out of sight.

“So, Lieutenant, Detective.” He spread his hands as he sat. “What can I do for you?”

“What time did you get home this morning, Carmine?” Eve asked him.

“About five-thirty, I think. I took off a little early this morning as Josie’s in town. A good friend,” he added, “who’s been in Europe for a few months. She and Vivi and I had a drink – here – then went to bed. Is there a problem with my place?”

“None I know of. Was Ledo in your place last night?”

“Playing pool. Maybe a round of Sexcapades. His eyes are about shot, and he can’t keep his hands steady, but he’s still got an instinct with a cue. If he ditched the junk, he could ride the cue to a good life.”

He paused when the redhead – Vivi, Eve assumed – wheeled out a silver coffee cart.

“At your service, baby.”

“Vivi here services private shuttles.”

“On and off planet,” Vivi added, and handed Carmine a big white cup with a brown sugar stirrer. “How would you like yours?” She smiled easily at Eve and Peabody.

“Just black,” Eve told her.

“I take coffee regular,” Peabody said. “Thanks.”

Vivi poured, doctored Peabody’s. “You need me to go?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Eve said before Carmine spoke. “Did Ledo have any trouble at your place – last night, or recently?”

“Ledo works hard to avoid trouble. If he smells it coming, he runs. It’s the funk and the junk that’ll kill him.”

“Actually, it was a pool cue.”

“What?” Carmine looked over the rim of his wide cup as Eve took hers from Vivi. “Ledo? Dead?”

“Since shortly after six this morning.”

“Did somebody go after him on his way from my place to his flop? He couldn’t have had that much on him. I have to check the feed.”

“I want a copy of your feed.”

Carmine looked back at Eve – she saw the protest in his eyes. Then he swore under his breath, pushed up. He crossed over to a house ’link.

“Who’s Ledo?” Vivi asked Eve.

“Small-time illegals dealer with a talent for pool currently on a slab at the morgue.”

Vivi shook her head. “I don’t know why people go around killing people. Life’s short enough, isn’t it? I’m sorry, Carmine,” she added as he came back over. “He was a friend of yours?”

“Not really, no. Just a Gametown regular. I’m having a copy of last night’s security feed sent to you at Central.”

“That’ll work.”

“If you’re looking at me for it, I’ve got one alibi here.” He sat again, ran a hand over Vivi’s bare leg when she sat on the low arm beside him. “And another still warming the bed. Security here will show me coming in this morning – right around five-thirty.”

“Okay. Do you know if anyone’s been hanging around, asking about him? Anybody new getting tight with him?”