Origin in Death (In Death #21)(15)

He moved over to Imaging and flipped on a screen to show her the wound and surrounding area magnified. "One jab, bull's-eye. No defensive wounds. Tox screen clear of illegals. Basic vitamins and health meds. Last meal, consumed approximately five hours before death, consisted of a whole-wheat muffin, four ounces of orange juice-the real deal-rose hip tea, some banana, and some raspberries. Your vic was a fan of his field of practice and has had superlative work done, face and body. Muscle tone indicates he believed in working for his health and youthful appearance."

"How long did it take him to die?"

"A minute or two, though essentially he was dead instantly."

"Even with something as sharp as the scalpel, it would take a good solid jab to pierce through the suit, the shirt, flesh, and into the heart- not to mention accuracy."

"Correct. Whoever did this was up close and personal, and knew what they were doing."

"Okay. Sweepers got nothing on-scene. Frigging place is hydro-cleaned nightly. No prints on the weapon. It was coated." Idly, Eve drummed her fingers on her thighs while she studied the body. "I watched her walk through the building-security discs. She never touched a thing. They don't do audio, so no shot at a voice print. Her ID's bogus. Feeney's running her image through IRCCA, but since I haven't heard from him, I'd say he's not having any luck so far."

"Smooth operator."

"She's that. Thanks for the drink, Morris." To make him laugh, she batted her eyes.

"What kind of name is Amaryllis?" Eve demanded when she and Peabody were back in the car.

"Floral. You're jealous."

"I'm what?"

"You and Morris have a thing. Most of us have a little thing for Morris, who is oddly sexy. But the two of you have a special thing, and here comes Southern Belle Barbie getting him worked up."

"I don't have a thing for Morris. We're friendly associates. And her name was Amaryllis, not Barbie."

"The doll, Dallas. You know, Barbie doll. Jeez, didn't you ever have dollies?"

"Dolls are like small dead people. I have enough dead people, thanks. But yeah, now I get you. Ammy for short? How can you be a cop with a name like that? Hello, my name is Ammy, and I'll be arresting you today. Please."

"It's a nice little thing you've got with Morris."

"There is no thing, Peabody."

"Right, like you never thought of doing him on one of the slabs in there." When Eve choked on her Pepsi, Peabody shrugged. "Okay, that's just me, then. Hey look, it stopped raining, which is a big change of subject before I further humiliate myself."

Eve caught her breath, stared straight ahead. "We'll never speak of this again."

"That'd be best."

When Eve walked back into her office carrying her share of the victim's office discs, Dr. Mira was standing by her desk.

Must be the day for sharp-dressing doctors, Eve thought.

Mira was elegant in one of her trademark suits, this one a rosy pink with a short, nipped-in jacket that buttoned to the throat. Her mink-colored hair was swept back and sort of rolled at the nape of her neck. Small triangles of gold glinted at her ears.

"Eve. I was just about to leave you a memo."

Sorrow, Eve noted, in those soft blue eyes, in that smooth, pretty face. "What is it?"

"Do you have a moment?"

"Sure. Sure. You want-" She started to offer coffee, remembered Mira favored herbal tea. And her AutoChef didn't stock any. "Anything?"

"No, thanks. No. You're primary on Wilfred Icove's murder."

"Yeah, caught it this afternoon. I was already on-scene on another matter. I was thinking of running what I've got on the suspect by you, and . . . And you knew him," Eve realized.

"Yes, I did. I'm . . . staggered," she decided, and sat in the visitor's chair. "Can't get my head around it. You and I should be used to it, shouldn't we? Death every day, and it doesn't always pass by those we know, those we love or respect."

"Which was it? Love or respect."

"Respect, a great deal of it. We were never romantically involved."

"He was too old for you anyway."

A smile wisped around Mira's mouth. "Thank you. I met him years ago. Years, when I was just starting my practice. A friend of mine was involved with an abuser. She finally broke things off, began to get her life back together. He abducted her, then he raped her, sodomized her. He beat her unconscious and threw her out of his car near Grand Central. She was lucky to live through it. Her face was shattered, her teeth broken, broken eardrum, crushed larynx, a medley of pain and potential disfigurement. I went to Wilfred, to ask him to take her as a patient. I knew he was reputed to be the best in the city, if not the country."

"And he did."

"Yes, he did. More, he was so kind, and so endlessly patient with a woman who'd had her spirit and her courage shattered as much as her body. Wilfred and I spent considerable time together over my friend, and became friends ourselves. His death, like this-it's very hard to accept. I understand a personal connection like this might influence you to keep me a step back. I'm asking you not to."

Eve considered a minute. "You ever drink coffee?"