Portrait In Death

Chapter 6

It would've been different for Rachel, Eve thought as she stood in the back of the imaging lab and watched the workshop. It had been night, and there wouldn't have been so many students. Still Rachel would have been at a work station, like many of these young people, refining, defining, adjusting, admiring, the images she'd transferred from reality to camera, from camera to screen.

What had she been thinking as she'd taken that last class? Had her mind been on her work, or had it wandered toward spending the night with her friends? Had she listened to Professor Browning, as some of the students were now? Or had she focused on her own work, her own world?

Maybe she'd flirted with one of the boys who worked nearby. There were mild flirtations going on-the body language, the eye contact, the occasional intimate whisper that made up the mating dance.

She'd liked to date, she'd liked to dance. She'd enjoyed being twenty. And she'd never be a day older.

She listened while Browning wrapped things up, outlined assignments, and she made sure the professor saw and acknowledged her as the class began to disperse.

They coupled up, Eve noted. Or grouped up, with a few solos winding through the cliques. That sort of thing hadn't changed since her school days, she mused.

God, she'd hated school.

She'd been a solo, by personal choice. No point in getting close to anyone, she thought now. Just passing through here, just marking time until I'm out of the goddamn system and making my own choices.

Which had been the Academy. The department. And another system.

"Lieutenant Dallas." Browning gestured Eve forward. She'd tamed her hair somewhat by pulling it back, pinning it up, but she still looked lush and exotic. Hardly Eve's internal vision of a college professor.

"Is there news?" she asked. "News on Rachel?"

"The investigation's ongoing" was all Eve would say. "I have a few questions. What would Rachel have been working on in here?"

"Wait." Leeanne drew out a memo book. "That's an introductory course, summer semester. We have a number of part-time students, like Rachel, and a good portion of full-timers on a fast track during summer session," she continued as she flipped through the book. "Not quite as big a load as during the fall and spring semesters, but… Ah yes, Faces. Portraits in the City. The connection between image and imager."

"Would you have any of her recent work?"

"Yes, I should have some samples and finished assignments in my files. Hold on just a minute."

She went to her computer, keyed in a password, gave a series of commands. "As I told you, Rachel was a conscientious student. More, she was having fun with this course. It wasn't a make or break for her, simply a filler, but she put effort into her assignments, and wasn't just warming a seat. Here. Take a look."

She stepped back so Eve could see the screen.

"Remke. It's the guy who runs the deli across from the 24/7 where she worked."

"You can see she captured a certain toughness by the angle of his head, the jut of his chin. He's a bulldog from the look of him."

Eve remembered the way he'd clocked City Maintenance. "That's on target."

"Yet there's a kindness in his eyes that she catches as well. There's the staging, the sheen of perspiration on his face, and the coolness of the tubs of salads in the chill box behind him for a good contrast and sense of place. It's a nice portrait. There are a few more, but this was the best of them."

"I'd like a copy of anything she turned in."

"All right. Computer, copy and print all imaging documents from Rachel Howard's class file." She angled toward Eve as the computer went to work. "I don't understand how these will help you find her killer."

"I want to see what she saw, and maybe I'll see what her killer saw. The students who just left this class, most of them had bags. Disc bags or portfolios."

"Education requires a lot of baggage. A student will need a notebook, a PPC, discs, probably a recorder, and for this course, a camera. That doesn't touch the enhancements, the refreshments, the 'links, the completed assignments, the personal items they haul around campus."

"What kind of bag did Rachel carry?"

Browning blinked, looked blank. "I don't know. I'm sorry, I can't say I noticed."

"But she carried one?"

"Well, they all do." Browning reached behind her desk, held up a large briefcase. "So do I."

The killer had kept her bag, or disposed of it, Eve decided. He hadn't dumped it with the body. Why? What use was it to him?

She made her own notes as she walked down the hall, as Rachel had done.

There wouldn't have been as many people wandering through that night. Just a handful here and there from evening classes-summer evening, Eve thought. Campus isn't as full.

She'd walked out with a group. Laughter, talking. Let's go have pizza, a beer, coffee.

She declines. Heading over to the dorm to hang out with some pals. See you later.

Eve stepped out of the building, as Rachel had done, loitered a moment on the steps, as she imagined Rachel had done. Then stepped down, turned left on the walkway.

There may have been a few other students walking the same path, heading to dorms or toward public transpo. Quiet, she imagined, it would've been fairly quiet. The street and traffic noises buffered back, the bulk of the students in dorms or at their clubs and coffeehouses.

Others heading to apartments or action off campus. Breezing off to the subway, the bus stop. To the parking facilities. Older students, too, adults who'd decided to expand their horizons with an evening class.

Anyone might wander on campus. Columbia was part of the city, merged with it. The way it sprawled over Morningside Heights made security a joke. Rachel wouldn't have worried about it. She was a city girl, and she'd have thought of the campus as a kind of haven.

Had he walked behind her? Had he crossed that open area between buildings? Or had he walked toward her?

She paused, judging the distance to the dorm, the parking facilities, the buildings. He'd wait, Eve decided. Why be seen with her if he could avoid it, so watch and wait while she turned again, started moving on the walkway toward the dorms. Still a good, solid five-minute walk, and heading into more secluded areas.

She wasn't in a hurry, not with the whole night ahead of her.Dark by this time, but the paths are lit, and she knows her way. She's young and invulnerable.

It's a hot summer night, and she's enjoying it.

Rachel! Hi.

Very friendly, very easy. Just happened to spot her. And she'd stop, recognize the face. Flash that pretty smile.

But the killer doesn't want to loiter on the path. Someone could come by. Maybe fall into step with her to keep moving, talk about school. What are you working on, how's it going?Want me to carry that bag for you, it looks heavy.

Can't take her out here, got to get her to the vehicle, and that means parking facility.

Something to show her, or give her. Something in the van/ car/truck. Parked right over on Broadway. Just take a minute. Lead her along a little, keep up the chatter.

Not too many people heading on or off the campus now. And there has to be some risk, or there's less thrill.

Eve detoured toward the four-level vehicle port on Broadway used for college parking. Students and faculty bought a holo-stamp, fixed it to the window. They could come and go as they pleased. Visitors bought an hourly or daily. She made a note to get the data on how many vehicles left the facility between nine and ten on the night of the murder.

Of course, he could have parked elsewhere, could have lucked out and found something on the street, but this was the closest point between dorm and the classroom. And the port was more secluded, less likely to have people nearby than a spot on the street.

It was jammed now, but it wouldn't have been that evening. Nobody would have paid any attention to two people heading toward a vehicle.

Top level would have been the smartest because there would be fewer cars, less traffic at the top.Get her in the elevator if it's empty, the glide if it's not. Elevator would be lucky. Inside, a quick move with a pressure syringe full of opiates, a little hand squeeze, and she's floating.

By the time you step out, Eve mused as she rode up to level four, she's light-headed.Not to worry, I'll drop you off close to the dorm. No trouble at all to drive you down. Gee, you look a little pale, let's get you in the car.

Eve stepped out on the level, scanned the area. They had security droids do a run-through every thirty minutes or so, but the killer would know, would have it timed. Get her in the car, and it's over for her.

She'd be groggy, maybe unconscious by the time they were down to street level. Drive down Broadway and take her to the place you've prepared. Have to help her inside, so it's got to be fairly private. No lobby to go through, no security to record the moment. A house, a small downtown loft, a business closed for the night, an old building set for renovation.

A business maybe, with an apartment over it. All the conveniences in one place. Nobody to question what goes on inside when the doors are locked.

She stepped over to the rail, looked down over the campus, out over the city.

It could have been done in under fifteen minutes. Add the transportation time and there'd been plenty of time left to take that final portrait.

Back in her car, Eve contacted Peabody at Central. "Get me a list of businesses in or around the college that supply students. Clothes, food, recreation, study guides, whatever. And the photography studios and galleries in the same area. Flag anything that includes private residence. Toss out anything with families. The killer doesn't have a spouse and kiddies running around. I'm taking personal time," she added, "but tag me if you find anything that rings."

She clicked off, and headed toward home.

She hated taking personal time. Hated knowing she'd feel guilty and small if she didn't take it. Marriage was a big enough mass to negotiate, but it had so damn many offshoots. Who could navigate all that?

She should be heading back down to Central, doing the run she'd just dumped on Peabody herself. Letting the data circle around in her head without this outside interference.

Why did people say a busy personal life made you a well-rounded individual? What it did was make you insane more than half the time. Things had been simpler when her edges had been squared off.

She'd done the job, she'd gone home. Maybe, if she'd been up for it, she'd have hung out with Mavis. Now and again, she might catch a post-shift beer with Feeney.

But there hadn't been all these people in her life to worry about. To care about, she admitted. And now there was no going back.

For better or worse, she thought as she swung through the gates. There was plenty of better with Roarke in her life. She couldn't begin to measure it. And if the worst was a skinny, sour-faced snake, well, she was stuck with him.

But when the hour was up, she thought as she jogged up the steps to the front door, she was back on the clock and Roarke would just have to deal with the patient on his own.

The house was cool and quiet. Her first thought was that there'd been complications, or some holdup at the hospital and she'd beaten Roarke home. She turned to the monitor in the foyer.

"Where is Roarke?"

DARLING EVE, WELCOME HOME…

The endearment, in the computer's polite tones, had her rolling her eyes. Roarke had some weird-ass sense of humor.

ROARKE IS IN SUMMERSET'S QUARTERS. WOULD YOU LIKE TO SPEAK WITH HIM?

"No. Hell." Did this mean she had to go back there? Into the snake's pit? Shenever went into Summerset's private quarters. Jamming her hands in her pockets, she paced in a circle. She didn't want to go back there. He might be in bed. Would she ever be able to erase the horror of Summerset in bed from her vision once seen?

She didn't think so.

But her only choice was to sneak out of the house again, and feel like an idiot for the rest of the day.

Stupidity or nightmare, she wondered, then hissed out a breath. She'd go back, but she wasnot going in the bedroom. She'd stay in the living area, consider it a courtesy to both herself and the patient. She'd see if Roarke needed anything-though what that might be she couldn't imagine-and get the hell out.

Duty done, life goes on.

She wasn't often in this section of the house. Why would she need to go to the kitchen when there were AutoChefs in virtually every other room? Summerset's private habitat was off the kitchen, with access via elevator and stair to the rest of the house. She knew he sometimes used some of the other rooms for music, for entertainment, and she liked to think for secret rituals.

The door to his suite was open, and the laughter that poured out put Eve in a better frame of mind. There was no mistaking Mavis Freestone's happy cackle.

Eve looked in and saw her oldest friend, still in mid-laugh as she stood in the center of the room. Mavis was made for the center, Eve thought.

She was such a little thing, almost fairylike. If you imagined your fairies in skin-baring sunsuits and neon gel sandals.

Mavis's hair was summer blonde today, a conservative color until you got to the pink and blue tips, and noted those curling tips were topped by tiny silver bells that rang cheerfully with every movement. The sunsuit was short and backless with a complex series of crisscrossing strips of that same pink and blue over each breast, to a bare midriff and a pair of micro-shorts.

Though the belly was flat as a board, Eve was reminded-with a sharp jolt-that Mavis had a baby cooking in there.

It was, probably, some sort of high-fashion, I'm pregnant getup, Eve mused, designed by Mavis's one true love, Leonardo, who was currently looking down from his great height on the stylish mother-to-be with such adoration Eve was surprised his pupils weren't shaped like little hearts.

Looking on from a mobile chair, his sour face wreathed in smiles, was Summerset.

She felt a stir of pity as she saw the stiff angle of his supported leg, wrapped in the skin cast, and the sling support on his shoulder. She knew what it was to break bones and tear muscles-and how much worse the cure could seem to anyone used to doing for himself.

She might have said something consolatory, even marginally friendly, but he shifted his head, spotted her. She saw surprise flicker an instant before his face shut down into an icy sneer.

"Lieutenant. Is there something you need?"

" Dallas!" Mavis gave a shout of greeting and threw out her arms. "Come on in, join the party."

Eve followed the direction of Mavis's hands and saw the colorful banner that shouted: WELCOME HOME, SUMMERSET,hanging between the elegant draperies on his windows.

Only Mavis, Eve thought.

"Want a drink? We got fizzy ices." Mavis spun over to an antique server that currently held a carnival setup of crushed ices, sparkling water, and syrups. "Nonalcoholic," she added, "because, you know. Hitchhiker in here's too young to drink." She patted her belly, wiggled her hips.

"How's it going?"

"I'm totally mag. Absolutely ult. Leonardo and I got the word on what happened to Summerset. Poor sweetie pie," she murmured, and whirled back to kiss the top of his head.

Eve felt her gag reflex engage at the thought of Summerset and sweetie pie in the same sentence.

"So we gathered up some fun stuff, and zipped right over to keep him company."

"We were at the doctor's this morning, too." Leonardo continued to beam at Mavis. He was draped in white, long, loose pants, long, loose shirt that flowed around his impressive body and gleamed against the gold-dust tone of his skin. He had a single pigtail draped down one side of his face, and like Mavis, had it tipped in pink and blue, and belled.

"Are you sick?" Eve demanded, forgetting her aversion to the room and moving quickly to Mavis. "Is the baby sick or something?"

"No, we're RRA-rolling right along," she explained. "We just had a checkup deal. And guess! We got pictures."

"Of what?"

"Of thebaby!" Mavis rolled her baby blue eyes. "Wanna see?"

"Oh, well, I don't really have-"

"I've got them right here." Leonardo pulled a portfolio from some canny split in the shirt. "We only took the ones that don't show the baby's personal area. Because we haven't decided if we want to know."

"Isn't the whole…" Eve gestured vaguely toward Mavis's belly. "… place its personal area?"

"He means any of the shots that would show if the baby has a penis or a vulva."

"Oh." She actually felt blood draining out of her face. "God."

"Come on, come on, look at your godbaby." Mavis took the portfolio from Leonardo, flipped it open. "Aww, can you believe that? Is that too cute for words?

Eve saw something that looked, sort of, like an underdeveloped, hairless monkey with a really big head. "Wow."

"See, you can even count the tiny, little fingers."

Which, to Eve's mind, made it all creepier. What did itdo with those fingers inside there?

"Leonardo's going to print the best ones on fabric and make me some tops." Mavis pursed her pink lips to blow Leonardo a kiss.

"Great. That'll be great. Um." Since they made her nervous, Eve looked over the top of the pictures to Summerset. "I just stopped by to see how everything was going."

"Let me make you a cold drink." Leonardo patted Eve's shoulder.

"Yeah, good, okay. Where's Roarke?"

"He's in the bedroom with the physician assistant, making sure everything's set up. Mavis and I will stay awhile."

"Sure we will." To prove it, Mavis perched on the arm of Summerset's chair. "We're going to be in town for the next couple weeks, so we'll come by every day if you want. And you only have to give me a buzz if you're lonely or feeling out of sorts. I'll come right over." She took Summerset's good hand, patted it.

Eve slurped up the flavored ice Leonardo passed her. "Well, I'll just see if Roarke… needs anything, then get going. I've got work to-" She let that hang, grateful when Roarke stepped in from the next room.

"Hello, Lieutenant. I wasn't sure you'd make it by."

"I was in the neighborhood." He looked harried, she thought. You wouldn't notice it, not unless you knew every inch of that fabulous face. And she did. "I had an hour to spare, so I thought I'd swing in, see if you needed any help."

"I think we're under control here. PA Spence is satisfied with the arrangements."

There was a quick, and audible sniff from Summerset. "I'm sure she's more than satisfied at the prospect of sitting around doing nothing but annoying me for the next several days, while you pay her an exorbitant salary."

"That's all right," Roarke said pleasantly, "I'll dock it out of yours."

"I don't want that woman hovering over me every minute of the day and night. I'm perfectly capable of seeing to my own needs."

"It's her, or it's the hospital." The pleasant tone had taken on the faintest edge, one Eve recognized very well.

"And I'm just as capable about making my own decisions regarding my medical care."

"I guess they didn't get to do that anal probe while you were in the hospital," Eve said before Roarke could speak. "And extract that stick from your ass."

"Eve." Roarke pinched the bridge of his nose. "Don't start."

"Here now." The woman who came out from the bedroom was perhaps fifty, with a long white coat over pale pink shirt and pants. She had what seemed to be cushy, round breasts to go with a cushy, round butt. They suited her face, also cushy and round. She wore her hair in ginger-colored curls pulled back into a bouncing tail.

Her voice had that peppy, behave yourself tone used by child-care workers and novice parole officers.

"Isn't it nice to have company? But it's time for our nap."

"Madam." Summerset's tone was barbed wire. "WEdo not nap."

"We do today," she said, unfailingly pert. "A nice hour's rest, then an hour of therapy."

"Eve, this is PA Spence. She'll be seeing to Summerset's at-home care for the next several days. Ms. Spence, my wife, Lieutenant Dallas."

"Oh yes, a policewoman, how exciting." She marched to Eve, grabbed her hand and pumped. The skin might have been soft, Eve thought, but the woman had the grip of a wrestler. "Don't you worry about a thing, not a thing. Mr. Summerset's in good hands."

"Yeah, I bet. I guess we should clear out."

"I amnot going to be put to bed like a toddler. Or spoonfed, or clucked over by this-this person." Summerset snarled out the words. "If I can't be left in peace in my own quarters, then I'll go somewhere I can be left in peace."

"Now, Summerset." Still on the arm of his chair, Mavis stroked his head. "It's just for a few days."

"I've made my feelings on this matter abundantly clear." Summerset folded his lips and stared holes in Roarke.

"As I have mine," Roarke returned. "And as long as you're living under my roof and in my employ, you'll-"

"That, too, can be rectified."

"Oh, you bet your ass."

It wasn't Roarke's response-one that was music to Eve's ears-that had her stepping forward. It was the tone, thick with Ireland that warned her he was about to snap.

"Okay, everybody out. You-" She pointed at Spence. "Take five."

"I don't believe-"

"Take five," Eve repeated in a tone that made even seasoned officers tremble. "Now. Mavis, Leonardo, give me a minute here."

"Sure." Mavis leaned over, kissed Summerset's cheek. "It's going to be okay, honeybunch."

"You, too." She jerked a thumb at Roarke. "Out."

Those blue eyes narrowed. "I beg your pardon?"

"I said clear out. Go down to the gym and beat up a workout droid, or up to your office and buy Greenland. You'll feel better. Take off," she said and gave him a good, solid nudge.

"Fine." He bit the word off. "I'll just go and let the two of you snipe each other to death. At least that'll put paid to the bickering around here."

He strode out, slammed the door.

Summerset remained, arms folded, face set. And trapped in his chair. "I have nothing to say to you."

"Good." Eve nodded, slurped a little more flavored ice. "Keep your mouth shut. Personally, I don't care if you roll yourself out of here in that chair, and get mowed down by a maxibus, but he does. He's spent the last, what is it?" She checked her wrist unit. "Oh, thirty hours or so worried sick about you, arranging things, re-arranging things so you'd be comfortable, and as happy as your demon soul allows you to be. You scared him, and he doesn't scare easily."

"I hardly think-"

"Shut up. You don't want to be in the hospital. Okay, there we've got a point of agreement. You don't want the PA- "

"She smiles too goddamn much."

"You'll take care of that in no time. I wouldn't want her either, and I'd kick about it some. But if I came out of my own little bitch-world long enough to see how miserable it was making him, I'd put a plug in it. And that's what you're going to do, or I'll put one in for you."

"He needn't worry about me."

"Maybe not, but he will, and you know it. He loves you. And it rips him when someone he loves is hurt."

Summerset opened his mouth, shut it again. Sighed. "You're right. It burns my tongue to say it, but you are. I hate this." He rapped his fist on the arm of the chair. "I don't like being tended."

"Can't blame you for that. Got any alcohol in here? The drinking kind?"

"Perhaps." Suspicion covered his face. "Why?"

"I figure Spence is going to poo-poo any alcoholic beverage, and if I was stuck with her, I'd need a belt now and then to counteract the bouncy smile and chirpy voice. Plus, if it became absolutely necessary, I could bash her over the head with the bottle and put her down for a while."

Eve tucked her thumbs in her front pockets, eyeing Summerset closely as she heard him emit some sound that might have been a laugh. "Anyway, you might want to take this opportunity to stash a bottle somewhere close to the bed, where she won't find it."

Amusement loosened the tightness around his mouth. "That's an excellent idea. Thank you."

"No problem. Now I'll go get Smiley, so you guys can have your nap."

"Lieutenant," he said as she walked to the door.

"What?"

"She won't let me have the cat."

She glanced back, and saw a tinge of embarrassed color run into his cheeks. Since it embarrassed her, too, she studied a point on the wall six inches above his head. "You want him?"

"I just fail to see why he should be banned from my quarters."

"I'll fix it. You want to get that bottle now," she told him. "I'll hold her off a few minutes, but then you're on your own."

She heard the quiet purr of the chair as she slipped out the door.

She wound her way through to the kitchen and found Roarke placating Spence. The woman was still smiling, but there was something maniacal about it.

"Just give him a moment or two to compose himself," Eve said, and headed for coffee. "He wants the cat."

"I'd prefer keeping the area sterile," Spence began.

"He wants the cat," Eve said flatly, and turned her own smile-the one she used to loosen the bladders of suspects and rookies-on Spence. "He gets the cat. And you might want to tone down the cheer meter. He was a medic during the Urban Wars, and will respond better to direct, clear orders than cooing. You're going to have your hands full, Spence. I pity you." She gestured with the mug. "So just let us know if you need a break to go bang your head against the wall."

"All right then." Spence squared her shoulders. "I'll go tend to my patient now."

Roarke stepped over, took the mug from Eve and drained it as Spence left the room. "You handled that with a great deal more skill than I."

"I didn't have to hassle with the prep work. I was just cleanup. Mavis and Leonardo?"

"I suggested they have a swim. They're going to stay, cheer him on during the physical therapy. I'm so grateful, if they weren't having a child, I believe I'd see if I could buy them one." He rubbed the ache at the back of his neck. "Are you going to tell me what went on in there between you?"

"No."

"Is he?"

"No. I'm going back to work. You ought to do the same, and let the dust settle around here without you. Oh, and take a blocker for the headache." She grinned. "I can't tell you how much I enjoy saying that to you."

He leaned down, kissed her forehead, her cheeks, her lips. "Despite that remark, I love you. I will, indeed, take a blocker-though it doesn't appear I'll need the tanker load I wanted ten minutes ago-and get back to work. I've a meeting scheduled at Dochas," he said, referring to the abuse shelter he'd financed. "It looks like I'll make it."

"Later then." She started out, stopped. "Oh, Where'd you dig up Smiley?"

"Who? Oh." He managed a half laugh. "PA Spence? Louise recommended her."

"I guess she had a reason."

"I'll be seeing her shortly." Roarke opened a cupboard, took out a bottle of blockers. "Be sure I'll ask her what it was."