Seduction in Death (In Death #13)(5)

"The most likely conclusion would be her date. If she'd opened it, she would have, giving the indication of the apartment, put the corkscrew away, dumped the cork in her recycler."

"Mmm. Living area balcony doors closed and secured from inside. If this was self-termination or an accidental fall, it wasn't from this point. Let's check the bedroom."

"You don't think it was self-termination or an accident."

"I don't think anything yet. What I know is the victim was a single woman who kept a very neat apartment and that evidence indicates she spent at least a portion of this evening at home with company."

Eve turned into the bedroom. The audio played here as well, dreamy, fluid notes that seemed to drift on the breeze fluttering through the open balcony doors. The bed was unmade, and the disordered sheets were strewn with pink rose petals. A black dress, black undergarments, and black evening shoes were piled beside the bed.

Candles, guttering fragrantly in their own wax, were set around the room.

"Read the scene," Eve ordered.

"It appears as if the victim engaged in or was about to engage in sexual intercourse prior to her death. There are no signs of struggle here or in the living area, which indicates the sex, or plans for the sex, were consensual."

"This wasn't sex, Peabody. This was seduction. We're going to need to find out who seduced who. Record the scene, then get me those security discs."

With a sealed finger, Eve eased open the drawer of the bedside table. "Goodie drawer."

"Sir?"

"Sex drawer, Peabody. Single girl provisions, which in this case includes condoms. Victim liked men. Couple bottles of tasty body oils, a vibrator for when self-servicing is necessary or desired, and some vaginal lubricant. Fairly standard, even conservative and straight goodies. No toys or aids here to indicate victim leaned toward same-sex relationships."

"So her date was a man."

"Or a woman hoping to broaden Bankhead's horizons. We'll nail that down with the discs. And maybe we get lucky with the ME's report and find some little soldiers in her."

She stepped into the adjoining bath. It was sparkling clean, the ribbon-trimmed hand towels perfectly aligned. There were fancy soaps in a fancy dish, perfumed creams in glass-and-silver jars. "My guess is her bed partner didn't hang around and wash up. Get the sweepers up here," she ordered. "Let's see if our Romeo left anything behind."

She opened the mirror on the medicine cabinet, studied the contents. Normal over-the-counter meds, nothing heavy. A six-month supply of twenty-eight day contraceptive pills.

The drawer beside the sink was packed, and meticulously organized, with cosmetic enhancers. Lip dyes, lash lengtheners, face and body paints.

Bryna had spent a lot of time in front of this mirror, Eve mused. If the little black dress, the wine, the candlelight were anything to go by, she'd spent considerable time in front of it tonight. Preparing herself for a man.

Moving to the bedroom 'link, Eve played back the last call and stood, listening to Bryna Bankhead, pretty in her little black dress, talk of her big plans for the evening with a brunette she called CeeCee.

I'm a little nervous, but mostly I'm just excited. We're finally going to meet. How do I look?

You look fabulous, Bry. You just remember real-life dating's different from cyber-dating. Take it slow, and keep it public tonight, right?

Absolutely. But I really do feel like I know him, CeeCee. We've got so much in common, and we've been e-mailing for weeks. Besides, it was my idea to meet -- and his to make it drinks in a public place so I'd feel more at ease. He's so considerate, so romantic. God, I'm going to be late. I hate being late. Gotta go.

Don't forget. I want all the deets.

I'll tell you all about it tomorrow. Wish me luck, CeeCee. I really think he could be the one.

"Yeah," Eve murmured as she shut off the 'link. "So do I."

CHAPTER TWO

In her office at Cop Central, Eve reviewed the security discs of the apartment building on the day of the murder. People came, people went. Residents, visitors. She pegged slinky twin blondes who strolled across the lobby in tandem as licensed companions. Double your pleasure, she thought as she watched one setting up the next job on her pocket-link while the other noted down the split in her daybook.

Bryna Bankhead rushed in at six-forty-five, a couple of shopping bags in tow and a pretty flush on her cheeks.

Happy, Eve thought. Excited. She wants to get upstairs, take out her new stuff and play with it. Groom herself, primp, change her mind about her outfit a few times. Maybe fix a quick bite to eat so her stomach won't be too nervous.

Just a typical single woman anticipating a date. Who doesn't know she'll be a statistic before it's over.

She watched Louise come in just before seven-thirty. She moved quickly, too, but then she always did. There was no light of adventure or anticipation on her face, Eve mused. She looked distracted, a little tired.

No shopping bags for Dr. Dimatto, Eve noted. Just her medical kit and a handbag as big as Idaho.

A not-so-typical single woman, Eve thought, who looks as if she's already decided she isn't going to enjoy the evening ahead of her.

And who doesn't know she'll end it with a body broken at her feet.

Louise was quicker than Bryna. She was striding out of the elevator, slicked into her killer red dress, at eight-forty. Polished, she didn't look like the dedicated, overworked and steely minded crusader.