Immortal in Death

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Eve was pleased with her timing. She clocked into Cop Central at 9: 55, went directly to Interview. By avoiding her office, she avoided any messages from Commander Whitney demanding her presence. She hoped by the time she had to face him, she'd have the buffer of new information.

Redford was prompt, she had to give him that. And he was as sleek and unruffled as he'd been the first time she'd seen him.

"Lieutenant, I hope this won't take long. It's a very inconvenient time."

"Then we'll get started right away. Have a seat." She closed and secured the door behind her.

Interview wasn't the most pleasant of atmospheres. It wasn't meant to be. The conference table was small, the chairs hard, the walls unadorned. The mirror was obviously two-way glass and meant to intimidate. She went directly to her recorder, engaged, and recited the necessary data.

"Mr. Redford, you are entitled to counsel or a representative at Interview."

"Are you reading me my rights, Lieutenant?"

"If you request I do so, I'll oblige. You are not charged, but you are entitled to counsel when being questioned in a formal interview. Do you wish counsel?"

"Not at this time." He flicked a speck of lint from his sleeve. Gold winked at his wrist in the form of a cuff bracelet. "I'm more than willing to cooperate with this investigation, as I've proven by coming here today."

"I'd like to replay your previous statement so that you have the opportunity to add, delete, or change any portions thereof." She slipped the labeled disc into the slot. With mild impatience in his eyes, Redford listened.

"Do you wish to stand by that statement, as given?"

"Yes, it's as accurate as I can remember."

"Very well." Eve replaced the disc and folded her hands. "You and the victim were sexual partners."

"That's correct."

"This was not an exclusive arrangement."

"Not at all. Neither of us wished it to be."

"Did you on the night of the murder engage with the victim in the use of illegals?"

"No."

"Did you, at any other time, engage with the victim in the use of illegals?"

He smiled. When he angled his head, she caught more gold, threaded through the sleek queue twisting to his shoulder blades. "No. I didn't share Pandora's affection for substances."

"Did you have the victim's security code for her town house in New York?"

"Her security code." His brow furrowed. "I might have it. Probably." For the first time he appeared uneasy. Eve could all but see his mind weighing his answer and the consequences. "I imagine she gave it to me at one time or another to simplify matters when I visited her." Composed again, he took out his notebook, keyed in data. "Yes, I have it here."

"Did you use her code to gain access to her home on the night of her murder?"

"A domestic let me in. There wasn't any need for it."

"No, there wouldn't have been. Before her murder. Are you aware that her security code also engages and disengages her video system?"

Caution flickered in his eyes again. "I'm not sure I follow you."

"With the code, which you state is in your possession, the outside security camera can be deactivated. That camera was deactivated for a period of approximately one hour after the murder. During that period, Mr. Redford, you state you were at your club. Alone. During that period, someone who knew the victim, who was in possession of her code, who was aware of the workings of her home and security, deactivated the system, entered the house, and it would seem, took something from the house."

"I would have no reason to do any of those things. I was at my club, Lieutenant. I keyed in and out."

"A member can key in and out without ever going in." She watched his face harden. "You saw an ornate, possibly Chinese antique box, from which you state the victim took a substance and ingested it. You further state that she then locked the box away in the vanity of her bedroom. This box has not been found. Are you sure this box existed?"

There was ice now, but beneath it, just around the edges of it, she thought she caught something else. Not panic, not yet. But wariness, and worry.

"Are you certain the box you described existed, Mr. Redford?"

"I saw it."

"And the key?"

"The key?" He reached for a pitcher of water. His hand was still steady, Eve noted, but that mind was working overtime. "She wore it on a chain, a gold chain, around her neck."

"No chain or key was recovered on the body or at the scene."

"Then it would follow that the murderer took it, wouldn't it, Lieutenant?"

"Did she wear the key openly?"

"No, she – " He stopped, the muscles in his jaw twitching. "Very good, Lieutenant. As far as I am aware, she wore it under her clothes. But, as I have stated, I am not the only one who was invited to see Pandora without clothing."

"Why were you paying her?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Over the past eighteen months, you transferred over three hundred thousand dollars into the victim's credit accounts. Why?"

His eyes went blank, but Eve saw, for the first time, fear behind them. "Certainly what I do with my money is my own business."

"No, it's not. Not when it's murder. Was she blackmailing you?"

"That's absurd."

"Plays for me. She had something on you, something dangerous, embarrassing, something she enjoyed holding over you. She nibbled away, demanding little payments here and there, and some not so little. I imagine she was the type to flaunt that kind of power, to enjoy it. A man could get tired of that. A man could begin to realize there was only one way to end it. It wasn't the money, really, was it, Mr. Redford? It was the power, the control, and that enjoyment she rubbed in your face."

His breathing deepened raggedly, but his face remained still. "I would say that Pandora was not above blackmail, Lieutenant. But she had nothing on me, and I would not tolerate threats."

"What would you do about them?"

"A man in my position can afford to ignore quite a bit. In my business, success is much more important than gossip."

"Then why did you pay her? For sex?"

"That's insulting."

"No, I suppose a man in your position wouldn't have to pay for sex. Still, it might add a certain twist to the excitement. Do you ever frequent the Down and Dirty Club on the East End?"

"I don't frequent the East End, and I certainly don't frequent a second-rate sex club."

"But you know what it is. Were you ever there with Pandora?"

"No."

"Alone?"

"I said I hadn't been there."

"Where were you on June tenth, at approximately two A.M.?"

"What is this?"

"Can you verify your whereabouts on that date and time?"

"I don't know where I was. I don't have to answer that."

"Were your payments to Pandora business payments, gifts?"

"Yes, no." He fisted his hands under the table. "I believe I'd like to consult with counsel now."

"Sure. Your choice. We will break this interview to allow subject to exercise his right to consult counsel. Disengage." She smiled. "You'd better tell them all you know. You'd better tell someone. And if you're not in this alone, I'd advise you to start thinking seriously about rolling over." She pushed back from the table. "There's a public 'link outside."

"I have my own," he said stiffly. "If you could show me to a room where I can make my call privately."

"No problem. Come with me."

Eve managed to avoid Whitney by transmitting an update and steering clear of her desk. She snagged Peabody and headed out.

"You shook Redford. You really shook him."

"That was the idea."

"It was the way you kept coming at him from different angles. Everything straight down the line at first, then pow. You tripped him up with the club."

"He'll get his balance back. I still have the payment he made to Fitzgerald to pitch at him, but he'll be more prepared. This reprieve with his lawyers."

"Yeah, and he won't underestimate you again. You think he did it?"

"I think he could have. He hated her. If we can link him to the drugs… we'll see." So many angles to explore, Eve thought, and time was racing – racing toward Mavis's pretrial hearing. If she didn't have something solid within the next couple of days… "I want that unknown ID'd. I want to know the source. We find the source, we follow it."

"Is that when you're going to bring Casto in? That's a professional inquiry."

"He'd have better contacts. I'll share the wealth once we have the unknown nailed." Her 'link beeped, and she winced. "Shit, shit, shit. I know that's Whitney. I can feel it." She blanked her face and answered. "Dallas."

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Sir, checking a lead. I'm en route to the lab."

"I left orders for you to be in my office at oh nine hundred."

"I'm sorry, Commander, I didn't receive that transmission. I haven't been to my desk. If you've received my report, you'll see that I've been tied up in interview this morning. Subject is currently consulting counsel. I believe – "

"Cut the tap dance, Lieutenant. I spoke with Dr. Mira a few minutes ago."

Her skin seemed to ice over, go stiff. "Sir."

"I'm disappointed in you, Lieutenant." He spoke slowly, his eyes hard on hers. "That you would consider wasting the department's time and manpower on such a matter. We have no intention nor desire to investigate formally, or to launch any informal inquiries into the incident. This matter is closed, and will remain closed. Is that understood, Lieutenant?"

Emotions swirled: relief, guilt, gratitude. "Sir, I – Yes. Understood."

"Very well. The leak to Channel 75 has caused major problems here."

"Yes, sir." Snap back, she ordered herself. Think of Mavis. "I'm sure it has."

"You are aware of departmental policy on unauthorized leaks to the media."

"Well aware."

"How is Ms. Furst?"

"I thought she looked quite well on screen, Commander."

He scowled, but there was a glint in his eye. "You stay on the balls of your feet, Dallas. And you be here, my office, eighteen hundred. We have a fucking press conference."

"Good dodge," Peabody congratulated. "And all truth, except that you told him we were en route to the lab."

"I didn't say which lab."

"What was that other business? He seemed pretty steamed over it. Have you got something else going on? Does it hook with this?"

"No, it's old business. Dead business." Grateful to have gotten through it, Eve glided toward the gate of Futures Laboratories and Research, a subsidiary of Roarke Industries. "Lieutenant Dallas, NYPSD," she announced into the scanner.

"You are expected, Lieutenant. Please proceed to Blue parking facility. Leave your vehicle and take transport C to the East complex, sector six, level one. You will be met."

They were met by a lab droid, an attractive brunette with milk-white skin, clear blue eyes, and a security badge that identified her as Anna-6. Her voice was as melodious as church bells.

"Good afternoon, Lieutenant. I hope you had no trouble finding us."

"No, we didn't."

"Very good. Dr. Engrave will see you in the solarium. It's very pleasant there. If you'd follow me."

"That's a droid," Peabody murmured to Eve, and Anna-6 turned, smiled beautifully.

"I'm a new, experimental model. There are only ten of us at this stage, all in use here, at this complex. We hope to be on the market within six months. The research behind us is very extensive, and unfortunately the cost is still prohibitive for most general markets. We hope that larger industries will find the expense worthwhile until we can be cost-effectively mass produced."

Eve cocked a head. "Has Roarke seen you?"

"Of course. Roarke approves all new products. He was very involved in the design."

"I bet he was."

"Through here, please," Anna-6 continued, turning into a long, arched corridor in hospital white. "Dr. Engrave has found your specimen highly interesting. I'm sure you will find her very helpful." She stopped by a mini wall screen and coded in a sequence. "Anna-6," she announced. "Accompanied by Lieutenant Dallas and aide."

The tiles parted, opening up into a large room filled with flora and lovely artificial sunlight. There was the tinkle of running water and the lazy drone of contented bees.

"I will leave you here and return to lead you out. Please request any refreshment you might like. Dr. Engrave often forgets to offer."

"Go smile someplace else, Anna." The testy voice seemed to come from a clump of ferns. Anna-6 merely smiled, stepped back, and let the tiles click together. "I know droids have their place, but damned if they don't make me itchy. Over here, in the spirea."

Warily, Eve stepped to the ferns, and through. There, kneeling in rich black dirt, was a woman. Her graying hair was scooped up in a messy knot, her hands reddened and soiled. Coveralls that might have once been white were stained with too many streaks to identify. She looked up, and her plain, narrow face proved to be as filthy as her clothes.

"I'm checking my worms. Trying out a new breed." She held up a clump of dirt that wiggled.

"Very nice," Eve decided and was faintly relieved when Engrave buried the busy clump.

"So, you're Roarke's cop. Always figured he'd choose one of those fussy purebreds with the skinny necks and big boobs." She pursed her lips as she looked Eve over. "Glad he didn't. Trouble with purebreds is, they need constant pampering. Give me a good hybrid any day."

Engrave wiped her dirty hands on her dirty clothes. When she rose, she proved to be about five feet tall. "Digging around with worms is good therapy. More people should try it, then they wouldn't need drugs to get through the day."

"Speaking of drugs…"

"Yes, yes, over here." She started off at marching pace, then began to slow, to meander. "Need some pruning here. More nitrogen. Underwatered. Root bound." She paused beside spearing green leaves, trailing vines, explosive blooms. "It's gotten to the stage they pay me to garden. Nice work if you can get it. Know what this is?"

Eve looked at a purple trumpet-shaped bloom. She was pretty sure, but wary of a trap. "A flower."

"Petunia. Hah. People have forgotten the charm of the traditional." She stopped by a sink, washed some of the dirt off her hands, left more under her short ragged nails. "Everybody wants exotic nowadays. Bigger, better, different. A good bed of petunias will give a lot of pleasure for little care. You plant them, don't expect them to be something they're not, and enjoy. They're simple, don't wither up on you if you look cross-eyed. A good bed of petunias means something. Well then."

She hoisted herself onto a stool in front of a workbench crowded with garden tools, pots, papers, an AutoChef that blinked on empty, and a top-of-the-line computer system.

"That was an interesting bag of tricks you sent over with that Irishman. Who knew his petunias, by the way."

"Feeney's a man of many talents."

"Gave him a nice flat of pansies for his wife." Engrave engaged the computer. "Already ran analysis on the sample Roarke brought by. Sweet-talked me into putting a rush on it. Another Irishman. God love 'em. Believe in crossing my t's on something like this. The fresh sample gave me more to work with."

"Then you have the results – "

"Don't rush me, girl. It only works with good-looking Micks. And I don't like working for cops." Engrave smiled widely. "They don't appreciate the art of science. Bet you don't even know your periodic table, do you?"

"Listen, Doctor – " To Eve's relief the formula flashed on screen. "Is this unit controlled?"

"It's passkeyed, don't you worry. Roarke said it was top security. I've been off the turnip truck longer than you've been alive." She brushed Eve off with one grimy hand, gestured toward the screen with the other. "Now, I don't have to go into the basic elements here. A child could make them, so I assume you've ID'd them."

"It's the single unknown – "

"I know the drill, Lieutenant. Here's your little problem." She highlighted a series of factors. "You haven't tagged it from this formula, because they coded it. What you got here's just a bunch of gibberish. It's what you've got here." Reaching over, she took a small slide dusted with powder. "Even your top labs would have a tough time fining this down. It looks like one thing, it smells like another. And when it's all blended together as it is in this form, it's the reaction that changes the mix. You know much about chemistry?"

"Do I have to?"

"If more people understood – "

"Dr. Engrave, I want to understand murder. You tell me what it is, and let me go from there."

"Impatience is another problem with people today," Engrave huffed, then took out a small covered dish. Inside were a few drops of milky liquid. "Since you don't give a rat's skinny ass, I won't tell you what I did. We'll leave it that I ran some tests, did some basic chemistry, and separated your unknown."

"Is that it?"

"In its liquid form, yes. I bet your lab tech told you it was some form of a valarian – southwest U. S. native species."

Eve looked over. "And?"

"He'd be close, but no cigar. It's a plant, all right, and valarian was used in the grafting of the specimen. This is nectar, the substance that seduces the birds and bees and makes the world go round. This nectar is not from any native species."

"Not native to the U. S."

"Not native anywhere. Period." She reached over, picked up a potted plant, and set it down with a thud. "This is your baby."

"It's pretty," Peabody said, leaning closer to the lush frilled-edged blooms that varied from creamy white to royal purple. She sniffed, closed her eyes, and sniffed deeper. "God, it's wonderful. It's like…" Her head swam. "Strong."

"You bet your ass it's strong. That's enough or you'll be buzzed for an hour." Engrave shoved the plant clear.

"Peabody?" Eve took her arm, shook. "Snap out of it."

"It's like taking a full glass of champagne in one gulp." She pressed a hand to her temple. "It's wonderful."

"An experimental hybrid," Engrave explained. "Code name Immortal Blossom. This one is fourteen months old, and it's never stopped blooming. They were grafted in the Eden Colony."

"Sit down, Peabody. The nectar from this is what we're looking for?"

"By itself the nectar is potent and causes a reaction in bees not unlike drunkenness. They have the same sort of reaction to overripe fruit, windfall peaches for example, where the juice is highly concentrated. Unless the intake is controlled, it's been found that the bees OD on the nectar. They just can't get enough of it."

"Addicted bees?"

"You could say that. Basically, they don't want to go fucking the other flowers because they're so seduced by this one. Your lab didn't hook into it because the hybrid's on the horticultural colonies' restricted list, and puts it under Galactic Customs' jurisdiction. The colony is working to alleviate this problem with the nectar, as it puts a world of hurt on the potential for export."

"So the Immortal Blossom is a controlled specimen."

"For the moment. There are some medicinal uses, and particularly cosmetic ones. Ingestion of the nectar can cause a luminescence to the skin, a rejuvenation of elasticity, and an appearance of youth."

"But it's poison. Long-term use undermines the nervous system. Our lab confirmed that."

"So's arsenic, but fine ladies once took it in small doses to make their skin whiter, clearer. Beauty and youth are desperate matters for some." Engrave shrugged her bony shoulders in dismissal. "In combination with the other elements in this formula, this nectar is an activator. The result is a highly addictive chemical that causes increased energy and strength, sexual desire, and the feeling of renewed youth. And since uncontrolled, these hybrids will propagate like rabbits, it has the potential to be produced cheaply and in great bulk."

"They'll propagate in on planet conditions?"

"Absolutely. The Eden Colony produces vegetation, flora, and plant life for on planet conditions."

"So you get a few plants," Eve mused. "A lab, the other chemicals."

"And you've got yourself an illegal with mass appeal. Pay up," Engrave said with a sour smile, "be strong, be beautiful, be young and sexy. Whoever came up with this formula knew his chemistry and his human nature and understands the beauty of profit."

"Fatal beauty."

"Oh sure, four to six years of regular use will take you down. Your nervous system will just give out. But in four to six years, you'll have a hell of a time, and somebody's going to make big, fat credits."

"How do you know so much about this – what, Immortal Blossom – if its cultivation is limited to the Eden Colony?"

"Because I'm the top in my field, I do my homework, and my daughter happens to be head beekeeper on Eden. A licensed lab, such as this, or a horticulture expert can, with limitations, import a specimen."

"You mean we've already got some of these down here, on planet?"

"Mostly replicas, harmless simulations, but some of the genuine article. Regulated – for indoor, controlled use only. Now, I've got roses to graft. Take the report and the two samples to your bright boys at Cop Central. If they can't put it all together from that, they ought to be hanged anyway."

"You all right, Peabody?" Cautious, Eve kept a firm hand on Peabody's arm as she opened the car door.

"Yeah, just really relaxed."

"Too relaxed to drive," Eve noted. "I was going to have you drop me off at the florist. Plan B, we swing by and get you something to eat to counteract your flower sniffing, then you take the samples and Engrave's report by the lab."

"Dallas." Peabody let her head rest against the seat back. "I really feel wonderful."

Cautious, Eve eyed her. "You're not going to kiss me or anything?"

Peabody slanted her a look. "You're not my type. Anyway, I don't feel particularly sexy. Just good. If taking that stuff is anything like smelling that flower, people are going to go crazy for it."

"Yeah. Someone's already gone crazy enough to kill three people."

Eve dashed into the florist shop. She had twenty minutes on the outside if she was going to track down her other suspects, badger them, get back to the station to file her report, and make the press conference.

She spotted Roarke loitering near a display of small, flowering trees.

"Our floral consultant is waiting for us."

"Sorry." She wondered why anyone would want trees that were less than a foot tall. They made her feel like a freak. "I'm backed up."

"I just walked in myself. Was Dr. Engrave helpful?"

"And then some. She's quite a character." She followed him under a trellis of fragrant vines. "I got a load of Anna-6."

"Ah, the Anna line. I think it's going to be a hit."

"Especially with teenage boys."

Roarke laughed and urged her through. "Mark, this is my fiancee, Eve Dallas."

"Ah, yes." He looked like everyone's favorite uncle when he extended a hand, and his grip was like an arm wrestler's on a dare. "Let's see what we can do for you. Weddings are such a complicated business, and you haven't left me much time."

"He didn't give me a hell of a lot, either."

Mark laughed, patted his silvery hair. "Sit, relax, have a little tea. I have a great deal to show you."

She didn't mind really, Eve decided. She liked flowers. She just hadn't known there were so damn many of them. And after five minutes, her head began to swim with orchids and lilies, roses and gardenias.

"Simple," Roarke decided. "Traditional. No simulations."

"Yes, of course. I have some holograms that may spark some ideas. You're having it outdoors, so I might suggest arbors, wisteria. Very traditional, and with a lovely, old-fashioned fragrance."

Eve studied the holograms, tried to envision herself standing under an arbor with Roarke, exchanging vows. Her stomach jittered. "What about petunias?"

Mark blinked. "Petunias?"

"I like petunias. They're simple, and they don't pretend to be what they're not."

"Yes, certainly. Quite charming. Perhaps backed with a bank of lilies. As to color…"

"Do you carry Immortal Blossoms?" she asked on impulse.

"Immortals." Mark's eyes brightened. "They're quite a specialty item. Difficult to import, of course, but very hardy and spectacular in baskets. I have several simulations."

"We don't want simulations," Eve reminded him.

"I'm afraid they can only be exported in small amounts, and then only to licensed florists and horticulturists. And only for indoor use. As your ceremony is outdoors – "

"Do you sell many?"

"Very rarely, and only to other licensed horticulture experts. I do have something just as lovely – "

"You have records of those sales? Can you get me a list of names? You're on the net for world delivery, aren't you?"

"Naturally, but – "

"I need to know everyone who ordered Immortals during the past two years."

When Mark sent him a baffled look, Roarke ran his tongue around his teeth. "My fiancee is an avid gardener."

"Yes, I see. It may take a few moments to access. You want everyone."

"Everyone who placed an order to the Eden Colony for Immortals during the last two years. You can start with the States."

"If you'll just wait then, I'll see what I can do."

"I like the arbor idea," Eve announced, springing up when Mark left them. "Don't you?"

Roarke rose, put his hands on her shoulders. "Why don't you let me handle the floral arrangements? I'll surprise you."

"I'll owe you one."

"Indeed you will. You can start paying me back by remembering we're attending Leonardo's showing on Friday."

"I knew that."

"And by remembering to access your three weeks' leave for our honeymoon."

"I thought we said two."

"We did. Now you owe me one. Would you like to tell me why you have this sudden fascination with a flower from the Eden Colony? Or do I just assume that you found your unknown."

"It's the nectar. It does a lot to tie the three homicides together. If I can just get a break."

"I hope this is what you're looking for." Mark came back in with a sheet of paper. "It wasn't as difficult as I'd feared. There haven't been many orders for Immortals. Most importers are satisfied with simulations. There are a few problems with the actual specimen."

"Thank you." Eve took the page, skimmed down the list. "Gotcha," she murmured then whirled to Roarke. "I have to go. Buy lots of flowers, boatloads of flowers. Don't forget the petunias." She charged out, pulling her communicator. "Peabody."

"But – but the bouquet. The bridal bouquet." Confused, Mark turned to Roarke. "She hasn't chosen."

Roarke watched her fly out. "I know what she likes," he said. "Often better than she does."