Celebrity in Death

6

Peabody yawned until her jaw cracked as she contemplated her breakfast choices. In order to start the day right, in a healthy, body-conscious state, she shouldn’t have the bagel and schmear. She should choose the fruity yogurt. She certainly shouldn’t have the bagel and schmear and the fruity yogurt.

And she shouldn’t even think of the possibility of the cherry Danish she could pick up on the way to Central.

Why did she always think of the damn cherry Danish in the morning? She wasn’t entirely sure the thought of it didn’t put an extra pound on her ass.

“I’m having the fruity yogurt, and that’s it.”

At his seat at their tiny kitchen table, McNab poked at his bowl of Crispy Crunchie Charms and said nothing.

Peabody doctored her coffee first and wished the stupid low-cal sweetener tasted as good as the wonderful zillion-cal sweetener. But she felt righteous if deprived, sitting down with the healthy yogurt and the low-cal coffee.

She wished she could eat bowls of Crispy Crunchie Charms with an ocean of soy milk like McNab and his skinny ass that never seemed to gain an ounce.

Life was definitely unfair when your metabolism had all the zip of a lame turtle.

She drank some coffee, and felt her brain start to clear. She liked the way the sun came in their kitchen window in the morning, and played through the bright yellow curtains she’d made herself—still hadn’t lost her Free-Ager skills, she thought.

She’d enjoyed making the curtains, selecting the fabric, designing a pattern, sitting down at her little machine to whip it all together into something pretty and functional.

Plus McNab had been mega-impressed.

One day she’d actually finish hooking the rug she’d started for the living area, and that would knock him right out of his gel-boots.

He got such a kick out of the fact she could make stuff, so that added more pleasure and satisfaction to the making. It was good to have their things mixed and matched together in their own apartment. Her dishes with his pub glasses, her chair, his table. Just theirs now.

And it was good, really good, to sit with him in the mornings when their shifts meshed, eating together, talking.

As she drank more coffee, she realized he wasn’t eating, or talking.

“Your triple C’s are going to get soggy,” she warned.

“Huh? Oh.” He shrugged, pushed the bowl aside. “I’m not really hungry.”

“I don’t get you people who aren’t really hungry in the morning.” The entire concept put her in a sulk. “I wake up starving, then have to talk myself into not eating everything in sight so my butt doesn’t become an ad blimp.”

When he didn’t respond—and he always had something cute to say about her butt—she frowned. He looked a little pale, she thought now. Heavy under the eyes, and very broody.

“You okay?” She reached across to touch his hand. “You don’t look so good.”

“I didn’t sleep much.”

“Are you sick?” Instant concern had her leaning over to lay a hand on his brow. “I don’t think you have a fever. Why don’t I make you some tea? I’ve got that blend from my gran.”

“No, that’s okay.” His pretty green eyes lifted, met hers. “Peabody … Delia.”

Oh-oh, she thought. He only called her Delia when he was upset, pissed, or feeling very, very horny. And he didn’t look horny.

“What is it? What’s the matter?”

“I just wondered … I love you.”

“Oh, I love you, too. I was just thinking how much I like sitting here with you in the mornings in our kitchen. Just starting the day together. And—”

“Do you want to get married?”

If she’d been drinking coffee, she’d have sprayed it all over his face. Instead, she swallowed hard. “Oh. Um. Huh.” How did her tongue get so fat all of a sudden? “Sure, yeah. Eventually.”

“To me, I mean.”

“Well, yeah, to you, dummy. Who else?” She gave him a light punch on the shoulder, but he didn’t smile, and her stomach went queasy. “Didn’t I just say I love you? Did I do something to make you think I don’t? Ian …” Like her first name, his was reserved for bigger moments. “I can be stupid about—”

“No. Dee, no. You don’t want to get married now?”

“Well …” Her stomach fluttered, clenched, fluttered again. “Do you?”

“I asked you first.”

“Maybe you should tell me what brought this on.”

“I couldn’t sleep. I kept seeing K.T. Harris lying beside the pool up on that roof. And the way the light made her look so much like you. And how for a minute, it was you, in my head. I couldn’t breathe.”

Concerned, relieved, in love, she got up, sat on his lap, cuddled him in when he pressed his face to her shoulder. “It’s okay. I’m okay, we’re okay.” She kissed his hair, bright as her curtains. “It’s all okay.”

“It just made me think how much you mean to me, and I started to wonder if I was—if we were—wasting time. That maybe we should get married. I wanted to ask if you wanted me to ask. You have to know you’re it. You’re it for me, Peabody. The one.”

She eased back, cupped his face. “You’re it for me. Ian McNab. The one and only. I’ve never felt about anybody the way I do about you. It makes me happy. All of this makes me so happy—my dishes, your pub glasses. Our place.”

“Me, too.”

“We don’t want to get married now. That’s for grown-ups.”

She said it with a smile that brought one to his pretty green eyes.

“But one day, down the line?”

“Oh yeah. We’ll have a big, crazy wedding. A mag wedding. Get married, have kids.”

Now he grinned, patted her belly. “A little She- or He-Body.”

“When we’re grown-ups.” She kissed him with the sun playing through the curtains, made it count. “The best part, right now, is you’d ask if I wanted you to ask. I love that you’d do that.” She wrapped him up again. “I really love you for doing that. Ask me again, one day down the line.”

“You could ask me.”

“Uh-uh.” She drilled her finger playfully into his belly. “You.”

He dug his fingers into her ribs. “Why not you?”

“Because you started it.” She giggled her way into the kiss. “Crap,” she muttered when her com signaled.

She angled back, reached over to slide it across the table. “Text from Dallas. She says to meet her at the morgue.” She calculated the time, grinned. “We’ve got fifteen minutes.”

She popped up to race him to the bedroom. Fifteen minutes with the guy who loved her enough to ask if she wanted him to ask?

Even better than a cherry Danish.

Eve walked down the white tunnel of the morgue. She’d long ago gotten used to the smell of death coated with lemon-scented industrial cleaner. She’d stopped thinking that the men and women at Vending or heading to an office had recently lifted the internal organs out of a corpse, or were going to after the next hit of coffee.

She no longer wondered how many occupants resided in the cold drawers, or how many gallons of blood washed down the gullies of the tables on a daily basis.

But when she passed through the doors of the autopsy room and saw Harris on the slab, the resemblance to Peabody gave her a hard jolt.

Chief Medical Examiner Morris turned away from a comp screen. He wore a navy blue suit with razor-thin lines of silver. He’d twisted his ebony hair into a ladder of sleek tails at the back of his head.

Some sort of gritty, back-beating rock played at low volume, and a vending cup of coffee steamed away where he’d set it down on a steel tray.

His exotic eyes skimmed past Eve, then back. “I’d hoped Peabody would be with you.”

“She’s on her way.”

“It’s a … I’m not sure what to call it.” He walked to the body, naked on the slab, the Y incision tidily closed. “Really, the resemblance is only surface. And yet.”

“I know.”

“I’ll admit I’m grateful Carter was on last night, and did the work here.” He tapped a finger to the screen to bring it on. “I would have found working on her very disturbing. You didn’t request me.”

With a shrug, Eve slid her hands into her pockets. “It was late.”

“No.” Now those dark eyes softened a bit as he looked at Eve. “You thought because I’d lost Amaryllis, that we’d had to bring her here to my house, even this surface resemblance to a friend would cause me pain.”

“There wasn’t any point in it.”

“There’s a point in thanking you for your consideration. I miss her.” He brushed his fingers over his heart. “I think I’ll always miss the potential of what we could have been together. But I’m better than I was.”

“That’s good.”

“When I came in here this morning, looked at her, it made me unspeakably sad. People who do what we do, who work with death day after day, we can still find it unspeakably sad. I think it’s important we do, from time to time.”

“I barely met her, and I didn’t like her. I’ve made a point in picking out all the physical differences between her and Peabody. And still, it hits a spot.”

“I think, after all this time, all this death, it’s good we still have a spot that can be hit. Coffee?”

“That?” She glanced at the steaming cup, could smell the raw bitterness from where she stood. “Pass.”

“It’s foul,” he agreed with a bit of cheer. “I don’t know if it’s a good thing or bad that I’ve gotten used to it.”

“I could hook you up with some real.”

“If I had real coffee in here, there’d be a stampede. Even the dead might rise like zombies. I’ll stick with foul, avoid the horror.”

“I don’t think real coffee’s going to make Harris rise up and bite your throat.”

“Brains,” Morris corrected. “Zombies eat brains.”

“Okay, that’s just sick.”

“Well, they are zombies, after all. In any case,” he said as the foolish moment took the edge off. He glanced at the screen, at the hard data. “After the initial sadness came the gratitude. This loss isn’t mine, or yours. I think, from time to time, we have to be grateful, too.”

“I wanted to kiss Peabody on the mouth last night. I resisted, but I wanted to.”

It made him smile. “Aren’t we the softies, the murder cop and the dead doctor. Well. Someone else will just be sad this morning.”

“Not so much,” Eve told him. “She was a bitch. I haven’t talked to one person who knew her who liked her, with the exception of her mother. And I don’t know if that was ‘like’ or just shock and grief over the loss of a child.”

“Even less like our girl then. A pity for the victim, though I doubt she suffered much as, according to the results of the tox screen Carter ordered, and I’ve just reviewed, she was very drunk. Blood alcohol level point-three-two—along with some considerable traces of zoner.”

“She drank her way through the evening. She had herbals in her bag, and I found six butts on the roof. They’re at the lab. Could be she had some zoner mixed in.”

“She sounds like someone who didn’t care for her own reality very much.”

“COD?”

“Drowning. Water in the lungs. She was alive when she went in. The head wound …” He brought it up on-screen, split it with a magnified section of the pool skirt. “It was severe enough to render her unconscious, but not fatal. Without the dunk, she’d have suffered a mild concussion, required a couple of stitches, and a blocker for the headache. Carter’s reconstruction, and I concur, indicates a fall.”

He switched data, brought up the computerized reconstruction.

“She fell or was pushed backward, struck her head on this pebbled surface. The blow would have rendered her unconscious, as I said, for several minutes. Longer, I expect, with her BAL and the zoner.”

“The way she hit, and where she hit. She couldn’t have fallen, bounced, rolled, fallen into the water. Not on her own.”

“No.”

“Could she have regained consciousness, tried to stand, and fallen in? Off her balance?”

“If she had, I’d expect to see another injury as the water was shallow. This mildly lacerated contusion on her temple is consistent, as you see on-screen, with a roll over the coping. Also, as you noted in your on-scene, her shoes had scraping at the heels. Here—”

He turned to the body again, moved down to the right hip. “Another slight contusion. That’s consistent with her initial fall, and with the sweeper’s report on where they found the blood.”

“Blood that had been washed off. It wouldn’t have been, even if she’d fallen in, splashed up water. It’s not enough, and the distance doesn’t work for that.”

“Not on Carter’s reconstruction.”

Eve saw it clearly. “So she went down, on her own or with help. She’s out cold. And when she’s out cold somebody drags her a couple of feet to the edge, then rolled her into the pool, where she drowned.”

“That’s our conclusion. This wasn’t an accidental death. It’s homicide.”

“That’s all I need.” She turned as Peabody rushed in, stopped.

“Wow. Still really weird,” she said as she stared at the body. “I think her legs are longer than mine. Why can’t my legs be longer?”

Morris stepped around the slab, walked up to her. He took her shoulders, kissed her on the mouth.

“Wow.” Peabody blinked several times. “Um, thanks. That was nice.”

“It’s very good to see you,” he said, and his eyes laughed into Eve’s when he stepped away.

“So far this is the best morning I’ve had in ever.”

“Well, hold on to that,” Eve advised. “We’ve got homicide, a media circus, and a long list of suspects. Let’s get to work. Thanks, Morris.”

“Anytime. And Peabody? I like your legs just as they are.”

“The day gets better and better.” Dazzled, Peabody walked back into the tunnel with Eve.

“Try this. You’re late. And I can see damn well from the bounce in your step you’re late due to sex, which means I have to catch you up on the ME’s findings, and this does not make my day better and better.”

“I couldn’t help it. McNab asked me to marry him.”

The second hard jolt of the morning stopped Eve in mid-stride. “What? Jesus. What?”

“I’m eating fruity yogurt instead of the bagel and schmear I wanted, and he’s sitting there with his bowl of Crispy Crunchie Charms, and he asked if I wanted to get married.” The residual thrill bounced her on her pink boots. “Really, he asked if I wanted him to ask, which is even sweeter and better, and wow oh wow, I had to have sex.”

“Okay.” How many shocks, Eve wondered, was she supposed to rebound from? “So …”

“So we’re going to get married. One day. Not now. We don’t want to get married now.”

“I’m confused.”

“I think he needed me to know it’s what he wants one day, with me. And needed to know it’s what I want one day, with him. And it is.” Peabody hiked up her shoulders in a kind of self-hug. “It really is. It shook him, you know, seeing somebody who looks like me, who’s being me, you know. Dead.”

“Yeah, that I get.”

“And he needed me to know, and he needed to know, so he asked if he should ask, and we … I’m crazy about him, Dallas. But it’s more than crazy. I really absolutely love every bony inch of him.”

“I guess you do.” Eve took a minute as they walked outside. “I may never say these words again, but you’re good together. And you’re both being smart, to wait awhile before you jump to the next level.”

“You didn’t,” Peabody reminded her.

“Nothing about me and Roarke was smart. Nothing about us should’ve worked, when you look at it close.”

“You’re wrong about that. The closer you look, the more it’s clear why it worked. Why it works.”

“Maybe so. But if you’re late due to sex again, I’ll kick your ass.”

“Understood.”

“We’re going to swing by to talk to Mavis and Leonardo before we head in. They left before the body was discovered, but they were there through the evening, and during the gag reel, so we need their statements. Added to it, Mavis played herself so she did some work with the cast and crew. She may have something to add to the mix.”

It was still a little odd to return to the building, and the apartment that had once been hers. Now Mavis, Leonardo, and their baby had the space—and more, as they’d taken the neighboring apartment and taken out walls, redesigned to accommodate the family and their work.

Odder still in some ways that Peabody and McNab had taken an apartment in the same building.

A lot of changes, Eve thought, in a short time.

“It’s early,” she began as they started up the stairs she’d once climbed daily. “But I want to get this done even if we have to wake them up.”

“Dallas, they’ve got a baby less than a year old. Believe me, they’re up.”

“If you say so.” She knocked, noting the security—solid—and the fact somebody had recently painted the door hot candy pink.

Leonardo, his big, gilded, tawny eyes a bit sleepy, his coppery hair in long dreads, opened the door with a huge smile. “Good morning! What a nice surprise.”

He wore what Eve supposed was his home wear of long cream-colored tunic with elaborate embroidery on the cuffs over loose chocolate brown pants.

Though he’d seen them only hours before, he greeted them both with enthusiastic bear hugs. “Mavis is just finishing getting Bella dressed for the day. We’re going to a family yoga class later this morning before Mavis goes to the studio for a recording and I start a round of meetings on spring designs.”

“Yoga? The kid does yoga?”

“It’s a good activity for the family.”

“Okay. And spring? It’s barely fall.”

“Fashion is forward. Coffee? I have some of Roarke’s blend. I’ve been spoiled.”

“I’ll get it.” At home, Peabody moved through the open space to a newly designed kitchen.

Eve took a moment to glance around. Everything was color—the walls, the art, the fabrics hanging here and there as if at random. They’d separated the kitchen from the living space with half walls of some sort of textured glass.

Every time she came by, it looked less and less like what she’d left behind.

“It looks like you,” she decided. “Like all of you.”

“We’re happy here.”

“Yeah, it feels happy here. Look, Leonardo, I’m sorry to crash into your morning, but—”

Before she could finish, Mavis bounced out, hair bundled up in a curly topknot, a sunburst of color in her snug top with her knee-length pants picking up the pattern with wide cuffs. On her hip, Bella wore similar pants in the same pink as the front door and a white top with Namaste spelled out in sparkling rhinestones.

Bella squealed. “Das!” After that, her current name for Eve, she babbled out a stream of the incomprehensible.

“I thought I heard somebody. And Peabody!” Mavis did a quick dance on sparkly red skids. “You’re just in time. Wait till you see this. Okay, Bellissima, go see Dallas!”

“Das!” Bella called as Mavis set her carefully on her feet with the baby gripping Mavis’s fingers.

“You can do it, baby. You can do it.”

Blue eyes huge, Bella took a shaky step on her pink skids. Then another, with her hands waving like bird’s wings when she let go of Mavis’s fingers.

“What’s she doing? How can she do that?” Eve had to will herself not to retreat as the little legs and hands worked, and the blue eyes shone with the thrill of it.

“She’s walking!” Leaving the coffee behind, Peabody eased out of the kitchen. “She’s taken her first steps.”

And finished them by ramming into Eve’s legs, clutching her trousers like a rope off a cliff.

“Just this morning,” Mavis sniffled, “Leonardo put her down to play on the floor while we got her breakfast. And she pulled herself up on the chair, and walked to him. She walked to her daddy. It still waters me up,” she managed, and swiped at her eyes.

Behind Eve, Leonardo sniffled in stereo.

And Bella, head tilted back, fingers clutching, eyes imploring, said, “Das.”

“What does she want?”

“She wants you to pick her up,” Mavis said.

“Why? She can walk.”

“Das,” Bella said again, and managed to infuse the single syllable with absolute love.

“Okay, okay.” With trepidation, Eve reached down, hauled her up.

Bella kicked her feet in delight, shouted, “Slooch!” and pressed her mouth—always damp—to Eve’s cheek. “Hi! Hi!”

“Hi.”

Bella patted Eve’s cheeks, babbled, then threw out her arms. “Peebo!”

“That’s me,” Peabody said, stepping over to take Bella. “I’m Peebo. You’re so pretty. You’re so smart.” Peabody gave Bella a toss in the air that all but stopped Eve’s heart.

“Are you crazy?”

“She loves it.” Peabody tossed the kid again, and made Bella laugh like a lunatic.

“We’re actually here officially,” Eve began, and noted Mavis didn’t seem to mind a bit that Peabody threw her kid around like an arena ball. “K.T. Harris was murdered last night.”

“Murdered?” Mavis’s mouth dropped open. “Come on, we were all there. She was fine, for a total mega b-word.”

“She drowned in the lap pool on the roof. She had help.”

“This is horrible. This is …” Leonardo passed a hand over his wide face. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You’d left before the body was discovered, but we need to talk to you both.”

“Listen, why don’t I take Belle in to play?” Peabody suggested. “It’ll go faster and easier that way.”

“Yeah, would you? I don’t want her around the murder vibes anyway,” Mavis decided. “It can’t be good.”

Bella leaned over Peabody’s shoulder as they started out, waved her hand, blew kisses. “Bye-bye. Bye-bye.”

“I’ll get the coffee.” Leonardo brushed a hand over Mavis’s shoulder as he went to the kitchen.

“This is total shock time. I mean, we were there, we talked to her. Sort of. And that crap she pulled at dinner … Do you know who did it?” Mavis demanded. “Do you have a target suspect? They’re all actors and stuff. How could one of them kill her? They’ve got a major vid going.”

“Sit down, sweetheart.” Leonardo brought out steaming cups on a tray. “I made you some nice jasmine tea.”

“The coffee smells a lot better. Still nursing,” Mavis added, “so I’m mostly off coffee. I had scenes with her, you know? And once we were in the mode, she was good—she was Peabody. I liked her when we were in the mode.”

“Did she have trouble with anyone?”

“Try everyone. Out of the mode, she was the big b-word, and nothing like Peabody. She was always looking to screw with Marlo, and she gave Matthew grief every chance she got.”

Mavis brought up her legs, crossed them under her, sipped at the tea. “I heard her yelling at Julian inside his trailer one day when I was going to mine. And she treated Preston—who’s a total doll baby—like s-h-i-t. She didn’t mess much with Andi. I think she knew Andi would have decked her, plus Andi’s got a mouth and a way of using it that’s better than a punch in the face. She got on Roundtree’s back a few times, but he rolls with that, as far as I could see.”

“What about last night?”

“I wish I’d paid more attention. Honeybee?” she said to Leonardo.

“It was tense. I don’t like when things are tense, especially that way. She broke into my conversation with Andi about a dress for the premiere, insisted I design hers, too. She was drunk and rude, and Andi told her …” His color came up. “It was a suggestion that was physically impossible, if you follow. They got into it a little. K.T. said she had the bigger, more important role, she should come first. Andi made another suggestion. It was very uncomfortable. K.T. backed off, and Andi went right back to discussing the dress as if it had never happened.”

“That’s good to know. Andrea Smythe didn’t mention any of this last night.”

“Oh, I saw K.T. corner Matthew, really in his face,” Mavis added. “I didn’t hear anything, but it looked intense, and she gave him one of these”—Mavis jabbed her middle finger in the air—“before she stomped off. He looked peeved.”

“When was this?”

“Um.” She shut her eyes. “Right before dinner. Yeah, a few minutes before we went in to dinner. And she was talking to Julian right before the show. He didn’t look peeved; he looked bored and annoyed. She did, though—look peeved. They were both pretty lit by then. I’m pretty sure she went off, sat in the back by herself. I didn’t pay much attention to her because I wanted to see the show. It was fun.”

“Did you notice anybody else? Anyone who left the theater during it?”

“No.” Mavis looked at Leonardo who shook his head. “We were sort of cuddled up together, me and my moon pie. We left pretty much right after. Trina’s aces at sitting, but we didn’t want to be away from Belle too long. We said good-bye to Roundtree and Connie, and sort of eased out. Oh! We saw Julian. He was passed out in the living room.”

“All right. If either of you think of anything else—any detail, let me or Peabody know.”

“K.T.’s dead.” Mavis shook her head as if still trying to take it in. “What happens now?”

“Now we find out who made her that way.”

Eve filled Peabody in on the way to Central.

“Nobody that Mavis or Leonardo saw having a moment with Harris mentioned it in Interview,” Peabody pointed out.

“Let’s find out why.”

“Do we bring them in?”

Eve considered it. “Yeah. Let’s play this as a routine follow-up, but make them come to us. Contact each one, make the arrangements. I want to get this new info down, start the board and book. Then we’ll see them one at a time. Jog their memories.”

Keep it friendly, Eve thought.

For now.