Brotherhood in Death (22 page)

Some of the cherubs were armed with bow and arrow, and looked ready to use them.

Eve couldn't decide if it was meant to be whimsical or obscene.

“It's just creepy,” Peabody stated.

“Yeah, that's the best word.
Creepy.
”

Eve glanced at the palm plate, noted it attached to the wall of the building with shiny gold fingers, and decided it took all kinds.

Of what, she'd never know. But it took all kinds.

She rang the bell, centered in a tangle of gold vines.

Good morning,
the computer intoned in a rich and fruity British accent.
Mr. and Mrs. Betz are not currently receiving guests. Please leave your name if you wish one of their staff to contact you.

“Scan this,” she ordered, and held out her badge. “Lieutenant Dallas, NYPSD. It's imperative I speak with Mr. Betz immediately.”

One moment.

The red light beamed out, scanned the badge.

Your identification has been verified, Dallas, Lieutenant Eve. Regretfully, Mr. Betz is not in residence at this time. If you would like to contact his personal assistant or his administrative assistant—

“I'll take Mrs. Betz,” Eve interrupted.

Regretfully, Mrs. Betz is not in residence at this time. If you would like—

“Screw this. Who is in residence? I'll speak to any damn human being in the house.”

One moment.

“Contact his office,” Eve told Peabody, “see if you can talk to a human. I want to know where the hell he is.”

“One moment,” Peabody couldn't resist saying, stepping out of range as she took out her 'link.

Before Eve decided whether to snicker or snarl, she heard locks disengaging.

“Lieutenant. Detective.”

“Sila. You work here?”

“Yes, ma'am.” The cleaning contractor bobbed her head, stepped back to let them in. “For about six months now. Mrs. Betz, she fired her other cleaning company, and she got our name from Senator Mira. Is something wrong?”

“There might be. I need to find Frederick Betz.”

“Oh, golly, I don't know where he might be. I know Mrs. Betz said how she was going to their place in Bimini, I think it is, with the baby and the nanny, and the nanny's helper.”

“The nanny has a helper?”

A little smirk escaped. “Oh, sure. And Mrs. Betz, I think she was taking her personal assistant, too, and maybe Mr. Betz was going—she didn't say. But we started upstairs, and well, the master suite's a mess—that's just usual. But I can't say if I noticed any of his things gone, like packed up for a trip.”

“Who's we?”

“Oh, my mama and Dara—my daughter. It takes the three of us two full days to do this house, it's got so many curlicues and fuss, even though they have a house droid who sees to it daily. We come in twice a month, go top to bottom.”

“Do me a favor, Sila. Stop the others from cleaning anything, for now.”

“I . . . All right.” She pulled a 'link out of her pocket, tapped out a quick text. “Can you tell me why?”

“There's been another murder, a friend of the senator's. I'm checking in with other friends.”

“Oh my goodness. Oh my. What should we do? We've been working on the bedroom floor for over an hour.”

“It's all right. Don't touch anything else. It would help if we could talk to the house droid.”

“Oh. It's back in the kitchen, in the storage area. I don't know how to turn it on. Mrs. Betz, she said Mr. Betz would shut it down while they were gone, and would program it by remote to come back on, freshen the house when they planned to come back.”

“If we can't get it on, we'll get someone from EDD. Peabody?”

“Working my way up to his admin. Lower assistants either don't know or won't say where he is.”

“Keep on it. Would you show us the droid, Sila?”

“I sure will.”

She started back, out of the entrance hall—with its central koi pond and massive gold chandelier with hundreds of . . .

“Curlicues,” Eve repeated and made Sila smile.

“And folderols and gimcracks. I swear they must've used two tons of gold paint and a couple acres of silks and velvets. If they could put a tassel on something, they put six.”

She shook her head as they walked past art—more cavorting cherubs, women in filmy, flowing white robes, men with swords or bows—and all framed in ornate gold frames.

“I took one walk through this place, and named my price as double what I usually charge. Mrs. Betz didn't so much as blink, so that's fine for both of us. Lieutenant Dallas, they got themselves his and hers bathrooms off the master. Not unusual, but he's got a full bar in his. A bar, with stools and everything, and she's got herself a long divan in pink silk, and a wine friggie. In the bathroom. I mean to say, I don't know anybody who does much entertaining in the toilet, no matter how fancy it is.”

They passed archways leading to rooms packed with furniture, and with furniture so loaded with pillows (hundreds of tassels) no one could possibly fit their ass on a cushion.

She didn't know what she'd expected in the kitchen, but bright, bloody red was the signature color.

A half mile of cabinets gleamed red, as did the appliances: the two massive refrigerators, the wall ovens, the cooktop. The counters were a sea of white and the floor a spread of midnight black.

“Horrible, isn't it? I do for a lot of people, and everybody's got their
own taste and style. But this one? My mama says it takes the cake and two slices of pie with it.”

Sila moved around the center island, took a jog left to a door—red, of course—carved with people in various states of undress gorging themselves from bowls of fruit, from fruit hanging from trees or growing fat on bushes, from fruit clutched in other figures' hands.

“They keep the droids in here. House droid, and its backup,” Sila said as she gestured. “The vac droid, the scrubber droid, and so on. But this one's the, well, head droid, you'd say.”

Eve approached the dark-suited droid. Tall, slim, dignified, with some whiffs of Summerset to her eye. He'd been designed with dark hair winged with silver, thin lips, and edgy cheekbones.

Eve glanced back, saw Peabody nod, hold up a finger, continue the conversation on her 'link. So Eve stepped in, angled her head, and started searching for the manual power up.

It pleased her when she found it, under the left wing of hair.

The droid made a quiet hum, then the pale blue eyes jittered, blinked, focused.

“Good morning,” it said in the same fruity Brit as the intercom comp. “I am called Stevens. I'm afraid I'm not programmed to assist you today without the authorization of Mr. or Mrs. Betz.”

Eve took out her badge. “Scan and verify. I'm here on police business. I need information. You can give me that information or I'll have you taken into Central where EDD will extract said information.”

“One moment.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Your identification is verified. Dallas, Lieutenant Eve. Is there a police emergency?”

“Let's hope not.”

“Dallas.”

Eve pointed at the droid to signal wait, turned to Peabody.

“His admin says he's expected in this morning. He plans to join his wife, but didn't leave with her. She left yesterday morning, and as of now, his plans are to leave tomorrow or the day after.”

Eve turned back to the droid. “When did Mr. Betz leave the premises?”

“I am unable to answer accurately. Mrs. Betz shut me down at ten-thirty-eight yesterday morning at her departure. Mr. Betz had already left the residence. He departed for his office at approximately nine-fifteen.”

“His return?”

“I am unable to answer accurately as I have been on off mode since ten-thirty-eight yesterday morning.”

“Would Betz generally put you back on when he returned?”

“Most usually, yes.”

“How does Mr. Betz get to work?”

“He engages a driver. Royal Limo and Transportation Service. His most usual driver is George. I regret I have no last name.”

“Peabody.”

“On it.”

“Do you know if Mr. Betz had any appointments scheduled yesterday, appointments here, in the residence?”

“No such appointment was programmed into my calendar.”

Maybe he hadn't had one, Eve thought, and they'd taken him by surprise.

But they'd taken him.

“I'm going to need contact information for Mrs. Betz, and I need to know where the security center is in this residence. Security center first.”

“Dallas, he didn't order his driver for this morning.”

“Yeah, I figured.”

The droid led her through a second door, and one look told her everything.

“Hard drive and disc are gone. And so's Betz. They've got him.”

She turned to see Sila in the doorway, arms clutching her middle, hands clutching her elbows. “Oh my God, Lieutenant. Oh my God. Do you think he's . . . we haven't been all through the house yet. Do you think he's . . .”

“Not yet, but we'll go through it. I want you to get your mother and . . . Dara, right? Get them downstairs, into the room at the front. I'm going to need you to tell us exactly what you touched this morning. Peabody—”

“Contacting EDD. Do you want Baxter and Trueheart?”

“Send them to the admin. Send EDD there, too. We'll probably need a warrant, but I figure we've got cause at this point. Let's have somebody sit on the Easterday house, and see about getting protection for the others. They're probably all right for the moment, but we won't risk it.”

It might be too late for Betz, she thought, and that would make it three for three. But she'd be damned if she'd let them add another to their scoreboard.

Eve gathered the cleaning team, and got the first buzz from the “retired” Frankie.

“We started on the master—it's big as a house on its own, especially with the two bathrooms and all the fuss. Started with the bathrooms, and the two sitting rooms. And Sila said why didn't I go ahead and work on the baby's room, so I was just about to when she came down to let you in, then you called us off.”

“Okay. Anything strike you?”

“Not there, no, but when you called us off, I thought, Why, something's going on here, so I poked into the guest suite—the gold one. That's the big one, opposite end of the house from the master. And it was set up.”

“Set up how?”

She curled her lip, just a little. “For what we'll call a rendezvous. There's a bottle of French champagne in a silver bucket up there—
sitting in water now, as the ice melted. Got two fancy flutes, and some strawberries been dipped in chocolate. White and dark, though white's not really chocolate, is it?”

“It's okay,” Eve heard herself say.

“There's a rose on the pillow on one side of the bed, and since I was poking, I looked in the drawer of the nightstand, and there's what you'd call adult play toys, and the like. I'd say the mister was expecting someone not his wife, like he has before.”

“Before?”

“Twice since we've been working here I've done that room. Both times when we knew the missus was away for a day or two that room was used. The bed was used—and I've been doing beds long enough to know when somebody's had relations in that bed. There'd be that, and the bucket, the empty bottle, the glasses, and so on. The setup. Bathroom would've been used, too. Nobody used the bed or the bath in there this time, but it was set up for relations.”

“Mama.” Sila shook her head. “
You
take the cake and a slice of pie.”

“It's a terrible thing happened to Senator Mira—and now this other man. I know because while we were waiting upstairs I had Dara look on her handheld to see if there's been another murder, and there was. A terrible thing, though I didn't like Senator Mira as far as I could spit rocks. But a man shouldn't be killed, and killed so mean, just because he's a prick.”

Dara giggled, then slapped her hand over her mouth. “Sorry.”

“No problem. Mrs. Trent, that's really helpful. Did you notice anything else?”

Frankie sucked air in her nose, furrowed her brow. “Well, I don't know how much help, but I think he changed out of his business suit when he came home. It was tossed in the chair in the master, and his good shoes were under the chair. Nobody in this house puts a thing away proper. I can't tell you what he put on, but it looks to me like he
came home, took himself a shower in the master bath, and put on fresh clothes. Then he went about setting up for relations in that guest suite. I guess he doesn't think it counts if he doesn't take them into the bed he shares with his wife. Put your hand over your mouth in advance, Dara, because I'm going to say a man who cheats is a prick, but I hope he doesn't get killed for it.”

Since Eve thought the same, she couldn't argue.

She asked a few more questions, just to see if something else popped up. Then let them go.

Peabody joined Eve in the hallway.

“I got ahold of the wife,” Peabody began. “Played it light, and she's too involved in her morning massage to clue in. Plus, dumb as a brick, which I'm pretty sure is an insult to bricks. She says ‘Freddy' will be joining her tomorrow or maybe the day after. She needed a little alone time first.
Alone
means a house full of staff, her personal assistant, the two nannies, and her masseur. His name is Sven.”

“If her husband ends up dead, she'll have plenty of alone time. Frankie Trent says he uses a guest suite upstairs for sex when his wife's away, and it's set up for same now. Unused, but set up.”

She gave a come-ahead head jerk and started up. “She said twice in the six months they've worked here, she's cleaned up that room while he's supposedly having
his
alone time.”

“Jeez, why doesn't he go to a hotel for it?”

“My guess? He thinks this is more discreet, and he's lazy. Woman comes here, he wines her and bangs her, then she goes home. He just rolls himself down to his own room, sleeps in his own bed.”

“How does anyone live with all this red?” Peabody scowled down at the red carpet. “And all the gold braid? Oh, and I wandered into what I guess is the formal dining room. All the walls are mirrored, and so's the ceiling. How can you eat when you're watching yourself eat? I don't know how—”

“Screaming Jesus Christ!”

At Eve's shout—nearly a shriek—Peabody drew her weapon. “What? What?”

“In there. Oh, Christ on a catapult, they're
everywhere
.”

Slowly, reluctantly, Peabody turned, half expecting a room filled with giant, hairy spiders. Hairy, red-eyed spiders.

And faced a room filled with dolls.

Baby dolls, glamour dolls, smiling dolls, crying dolls. Dolls
en pointe
in tutus and dolls in swaddling clothes. Dolls with tiaras, dolls with fur coats, dolls in native costumes of every culture and land.

Dolls as small as her hand. Dolls the size of a healthy toddler.

Peabody liked dolls fine—had played with her share and never quite understood her partner's deep phobia. But the sight of them, of
hundreds
of them, had her backing up a pace.

“I . . . think we should close the door.”

“I think we should lock it. I think we should barricade it. That one.” Eve pointed. Slowly. “That one over there on the horse thing. I think it blinked.”

Peabody cast a leery eye toward the cowgirl doll with her smiling face and pink hat. “She did not. You're weirding me out.”

“You're seeing what I'm seeing, and I'm weirding you out? Who does this? What kind of sick, twisted mind has a room full of dead-eyed little humans on display?”

“I don't want to know.” Holding her breath, Peabody reached out—slowly, slowly—then pulled the door shut with a loud
snap
.

“That many of them?” Eve said. “Oh, they can get out if they want.”

“Stop it. Just stop it.” Peabody hustled down the hall, and kept her weapon out until she was two yards away. “Don't say anything more about them. Nothing. Sex and murder. Let's just think about sex and murder.”

Eve walked into the guest suite—cast one glance over her shoulder (just in case)—then got down to business.

“Frankie isn't wrong. Betz was expecting sex company. Unopened champagne, two glasses, the strawberries, rose on the bed.”

She opened the drawer of the bedside table. “Vibrators, a variety, glides in various flavors. Condoms, also flavored. Nipple clamps—jeweled.”

“Ouch.”

“Some get off on the ouch. Velvet cuffs. And, some Erotica, some Stay Up, other chemical boosts. Illegal ones mixed in. But they never got up here. Took him out downstairs, easy and quick, I bet. Stun to the groin. No bashing him around here. They learned that the first time. Stun him, get him out of the house and into their transportation. He let them in. Maybe he had a double scheduled, maybe he thought he got lucky. Maybe they just caught him off guard, but he let them in, and they took him out.”

“If they took him last night, they took him while they still had Wymann.”

“Yeah, they're the ones who had a twofer.” Eve thought of the big, gaudy chandelier in the entranceway. “They'll want to string him up tonight.”

“Following pattern, they'll bring him back here.”

“When and if they do, we'll be all over them. We're going silent on Betz. No chatter, no media, no alerts. Meanwhile, let's see if we can find out the name of his date for last night.”

They started for the master suite, giving the doll room a wide berth. The doorbell pealed.

“I'll take it—probably EDD.”

Peabody stopped dead. “You're going to leave me up here? Alone? With
them
?”

“You're armed. They probably aren't. Check his nightstand, his closet, and his bathroom. If he's hiding anything from his wife, those are likely the places they'll be.”

She checked the screen downstairs, saw McNab with his long tail of blond hair under a big, wooly cap with striped earflaps. And to her surprise, her former partner and the captain of EDD. Feeney, his wiry ginger hair uncovered, and his hands deep in the pockets of the magic coat she'd given him.

She hit the locks, opened the door. “Didn't figure I'd rate the brass.”

“Gotta get out in the field now and then, kid. And with you shooting for three in three days, you rate. What the hell kind of door is this?”

“Wild to the mega,” McNab said, “and deep into bizarro.”

“It's just the entrance into bizarro. There's a room upstairs that'd curl McNab's hair.”

“S and M?” Feeney asked.

“Dolls. A zillion dolls.”

Feeney hissed through his teeth. “Sick fucks.” Hands still in his pockets, Feeney lifted his droopy eyes to the gold chandelier. “That's where they'd want to hang him. Right over those weird fat fish. Good security. No forced entry on the other two, right?”

“None, and unlikely here. You can clear that, but here's the rundown as I see it.”

While she briefed them, McNab went over the security on the front entrance.

“Crotch tattoos and sidepieces.” Feeney shrugged. “It's a stretch to sex club—more a rape club. But you got two of them done the way they were done? Somebody's really pissed off.”

“They start off stunning them in the balls, Feeney, and sodomize them using the ever-popular hot poker. That's more than really pissed.”

“Can't argue. It's got sex all over it, and it don't feel like any of that
woman scorned crap. Me and the boy here will take the electronics. You got a club, you got a roster or rules put down somewhere.”

“Nobody came through the front without the codes,” McNab told them. “I'll check the other doors, the windows. She-Body upstairs?”

“Yeah—no ass-grabbing. Like I said, he was expecting company, and it wasn't the first time. We need to cross off break-in, but he let her in—or them. So he knew at least the one he was planning on sexing, but she didn't worry him. He knew about Edward Mira, had to. But he wasn't worried.”

“They got him? He's worried now. He got a home office?” Feeney asked. “I'll start there.”

“Third floor, according to the cleaning crew. I haven't been through yet. Let me check with Peabody, and I'll find you. I want to look at his personal spaces.”

She found Peabody in Betz's closet.

“More sex stuff, both nightstands. His and hers goodie drawers,” Peabody said. “Makes me think the stuff in the guest room is reserved for women other than his wife.”

“Well, that's delicate of him.”

“He's got a closet comp—wardrobe in categories—and I haven't finished, but I'm not finding any evidence he packed for a trip. There's a notation that he removed black silk boxers, gray twill trousers, a navy blue cashmere crew neck sweater, gray loafers, and navy blue cashmere socks. The comp says those items came out at six-sixteen
P.M
., yesterday. There's also a jewelry safe. It's locked.”

“We'll have McNab or Feeney take a look.”

“Feeney's here?”

“McNab's on doors and windows, Feeney's starting in Betz's office. If you've got this, I'm going to take the office, any place else he might claim as just his.”

“I got this.” Stepping back, Peabody fisted her hands on her hips, turned a circle. “I keep thinking there should be some hidey-hole. If he's into something bad, he wouldn't leave anything about it in his workplace, right? I mean, less likely to leave it where some nosy somebody might stumble on it. And here? He'd want it hidden away from his wife. She was a sidepiece before, right?”

“That's right.”

“So cheat with me, cheat on me. That's my thinking. I figure she probably gets into his stuff now and then, just checking. Or even if she doesn't maybe he'd figure she might. So where's she going to look?”

“His personal spaces,” Eve agreed, and frowning, studied the room-sized closet. “False wall, false drawer, hidden floor access.”

“If it's here, I haven't found it yet, but I'm going through with that in mind.”

“Good thinking.”

“I'm not checking in that creepy doll room.” Face set, Peabody swiped a hand through the air. “I draw the line.”

“He doesn't strike me as a guy who plays with dolls. That's her space.”

“Just so we're clear.”

“I'm on the third floor. If we need more hands and eyes, I'll pull in Baxter and Trueheart.”

“Maybe you could tap Roarke—if he has some free time. If there's any hidey-hole, he'd find it.”

“I'll keep that in my back pocket.”

If there was a secret panel, drawer, safe, hole, Eve thought as she climbed to the third floor, Roarke would find it, and quicker than any cop.

But she couldn't tap him, ask him to toss off whatever world-shaking meeting he might be in to follow her partner's hunch. A good hunch, Eve thought, but still only that.

But like Peabody, she'd look with that in mind.

Betz's office space proved as ornate as the rest. The desk must've been custom-made, as it had the frisky cherubs carved into its heavy, dark wood. The top was a marble slab with a lot of silver squiggles and flecks running through the black. Behind it sat a throne-like leather chair in bright gold. The combination put her teeth on edge.

If this decorator Roarke hired suggested anything remotely close to this scheme, Eve decided she'd deserve a boot out the window. She'd just keep that in mind, too.