Rapture in Death

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Eve started off to work humming. Her body felt soft and strong, her mind rested. She took it as an omen when her vehicle purred to life on the first attempt, and the temperature control hung at a pleasant seventy-two degrees.

She felt ready to face her commander and convince him she had a case to pursue.

Then she got to Fifth and Forty-seventh and hit the jam. Street traffic was stopped, air traffic was circling like vultures, and no one was paying any heed to the noise pollution laws. The horns, shouts, curses, catcalls screamed out and echoed. The minute she stopped, her temperature control gleefully pumped up to ninety-five.

Eve slammed out of her car and joined the melee.

The glide-cart hawkers were taking advantage of the moment, slipping and sliding through the pack and doing a monster business on frozen fruit sticks and coffee. She didn't bother to flash her badge and remind any of them they weren't allowed the vend off the curbs. Instead, she snagged a vendor, bought a tube of Pepsi, and asked what the hell was going on.

"Free-Agers." Eyes shifting for more customers, he slid her credits into his safe slot. "Protest on conspicuous consumption. Hundreds of 'em, stretched across Fifth like a pretty ribbon. Singing. Want a wheat muffin to go with that? Fresh."

"No."

"Gonna be here awhile," he warned and stepped onto his cart to glide through standing traffic.

"Son of a bitch." Eve scanned the scene. She was blocked in on all sides by furious commuters. Her ears were ringing and heat was pumping out of her car like a furnace.

She slammed back in, beat on the control panel with her fist, and managed to knock the temperature down to a brisk sixty. Overhead, a tourist blimp trundled by, full of gawkers.

With no faith whatsoever in her vehicle, Eve rammed it into vertical lift and hit her official warning siren. The siren wheezed on, no match for the cacophony of noise, but she managed a shaky lift. Her wheels missed the roof of the car in front of her by at least an inch as her vehicle coughed and choked its way into the air.

"Next stop, recycling heap. I swear it," she muttered and she punched at her communicator. "Peabody, what the fuck is going on here?"

"Sir." Peabody popped on screen, eyes bland, mouth sober. "I believe you've encountered the jam incited by the protest on Fifth."

"That wasn't scheduled. I know damn well it wasn't on the boards for this morning. They can't have a permit."

"Free-Agers don't believe in permits, sir." She cleared her throat when Eve snarled. "I believe if you head west, you'll have better luck on Seventh. Traffic is heavy there, but it's moving. If you check your dash monitor – "

"Yeah, like that's going to work in this piece of shit. Call Maintenance and tell them they're meat. Then contact the commander, explain that I may be a few minutes late for the meeting." As she spoke, she wrestled with the car, which tended to dip and cause both pedestrians and other drivers to stare up in terror. "If I don't fall on someone, I should be there in twenty minutes."

She avoided, barely, the edge of a billboard hologram touting the delights of private air travel. She and the Jet Star headed in opposite directions with varying degrees of success. She nicked the curb as she set down on Seventh and couldn't blame the suit and tie pumping up his air skates for flipping her the bird.

But she'd missed him, hadn't she?

She was just indulging in a sigh of relief when her communicator shrilled.

"Any unit, any unit. Twelve seventeen, roof of Tattler Building, Seventh and Forty-second. Respond immediately. Unidentified female, considered armed."

Twelve seventeen, Eve thought. Self-termination threat. What the hell was this? "Dispatch, Dallas, Lieutenant Eve, responding. ETA five minutes."

She beat her siren into life and hit vertical again.

The Tattler Building, home of the nation's most popular tabloid, was shiny and new. The buildings on its former site had been razed in the thirties for the urban beautification program, which was a euphemism for the decay of infrastructure and construction that had plagued New York during the period.

It speared up in silvery steel, bullet-shaped, and was ringed by circling skywalks and glides with a fresh-air restaurant spilling out from its base.

Eve double parked, grabbed her field kit, and pushed her way through the crowd gathered on the sidewalk. She flipped her badge at the security guard and watched relief drown his face.

"Thank Christ. She's up there, holding everybody off with antimugging spray. Got Bill dead in the eyes when he tried to grab her."

"Who is she?" Eve demanded as he hustled his way toward the interior elevator banks.

"Cerise Devane. She owns the fucking place."

"Devane?" Eve knew her vaguely. Cerise Devane, CEO of Tattler Enterprises, was one of the privileged and influential people who sauntered in Roarke's circles. "Cerise Devane is on the roof threatening to jump? What is this, some sort of insane publicity stunt to bump up their circulation?"

"Looks real to me." He puffed out his cheeks. "She's buck ass naked, too. That's all I know," the guard claimed as the elevator shot upward. "Her assistant made the call. Frank Rabbit. You can get more out of him – if he's conscious by now. Guy keeled right over when she went out on the ledge. That's what I heard."

"You call for psych?"

"Somebody did. We got the company shrink up there now, and a specialist in self-termination is on the way. Fire department, too, and air rescue. Everything's backed up. Bad traffic jam on Fifth."

"Tell me about it."

The doors opened onto the roof, and Eve stepped out into a brisk, cooling wind that hadn't been able to find its way through the towering walls of buildings to the valley of the streets. She took a quick scan.

Cerise's office was built onto the roof, or more accurately, into it. Slanted walls of treated glass formed a peak and would afford the CEO a three hundred sixty degree view of the city and people she loved to dish up in her paper.

Through the glass, Eve could see the artwork, decor, and equipment designed for a top-flight office. And on the L-shaped lounging sofa, a man was stretched out with a compress on his forehead.

"If that's Rabbit, tell him to pull himself together and get out here to fill me in. And get anyone who isn't essential off this roof. Clear that crowd off the streets. If she goes off, we don't need her squashing bystanders."

"I just don't have the man power," the guard began.

"Get Rabbit out here," she repeated and called Cop Central. "Peabody, I've got a situation."

"I heard. What do you need?"

"Get down here, send a crowd dispersal unit to move those people off the street. Bring me all available data on Cerise Devane. See if Feeney can put a freeze on her 'links – home, personal, and portable – for the last twenty-four hours. Make it snappy."

"Done," Peabody responded and broke transmission.

She turned as the guard all but carried a young man across to her. Rabbit's company tie was loose, his stylishly shaped hair was mussed and matted. His hands, neatly manicured, shook.

"Tell me exactly what happened," she snapped. "Make it fast, and make it clear. You can fall apart when I'm finished with you."

"She just – just walked out of the office." His voice hitched and dipped and he sagged weakly against the supporting arm of the guard. "She looked so happy. She was almost dancing. She – she'd taken off her clothes. She'd taken them off."

Eve cocked a brow. At the moment, Rabbit seemed more shocked by his boss's sudden whim for exhibitionism than the possibility of her death. "What led up to it?"

"I don't know. I swear, I have no idea. She'd wanted me to come in early, about eight. She was upset over one of the lawsuits. We're always getting sued. She was smoking and gulping coffee and pacing. Then she sent me out to light a fire under Legal and said she was going to take a few minutes to relax and level out."

He stopped, covered his face with his hands. "Fifteen minutes later she walked out, smiling and – and nude. I was so stunned, I just sat there. Just sat there." His teeth began to chatter. "I've never even seen her without her shoes."

"Being naked's not her big problem now," Eve pointed out. "Did she speak to you, say anything?"

"I, well, I was so stunned, you see. I said something, something like, 'Ms. Devane, what are you doing? Is something wrong?' And she just laughed. She said it was perfect. She had it all figured out now, and everything was wonderful. She was going to sit out on the ledge awhile before she jumped. I thought she was joking, and I was nervous so I laughed a little."

His eyes were stricken. "I laughed, and then I saw her go to the edge of the roof. Jesus. She just popped over the side. I thought she'd jumped, and I ran out and over. There she was, sitting on the ledge, swinging her legs and humming. I asked her please to come back up before she lost her balance. She just laughed, spritzed a little of the spray at me, and told me she'd just found her balance and to go away like a good boy."

"She get any calls, make any?"

"No." He wiped his mouth. "Any transmissions would have gone through my unit. She's going to jump, I tell you. She leaned over while I was watching, nearly went over then. And she said what a nice trip it was going to be. She's going to jump."

"We'll see about that. Stay available." Eve turned away. The company shrink was easy enough to spot. He was dressed in a knee-length white smock and black pipestem pants. His comforting gray hair was twisted into a neat queue, and he was leaning over the edge of the roof, his posture transmitting anxiety.

Even as Eve started toward him, she swore. She heard the whirl of flybys, then cursed the media again as she spotted the first air van. Channel 75, naturally, she mused. Nadine Furst was always first out of the gate.

The shrink straightened, smoothed down his smock for the cameras. Eve decided she was going to detest him. "Doctor?" She held up her badge and noticed the undisguised excitement in his eyes. All Eve could think was, a company the size and strength of Tattler could afford better.

"Lieutenant, I believe I'm making some progress with the subject."

"She's still on the ledge, isn't she?" Eve pointed out and brushed past him to lean over. "Cerise?"

"More company?"

Sleek and pretty, skin the color of blushing rose petals, her well-toned legs swinging merrily, Cerise looked up. Her hair was jet black, its carefully groomed waves blowing in the breeze. She had a foxy, intelligent face and sharp green eyes. Just now, those eyes were soft and dreamy.

"Why, it's Eve, isn't it? Eve Dallas, the new bride. Lovely wedding, by the way. Really the social event of the year. We moved thousands of units with our coverage."

"Good for you."

"You know, I had research and data search busting butt to try to get the honeymoon itinerary. I don't think anybody but Roarke could have managed a full media blackout." She wagged her ringer playfully, and her perky breasts swayed. "You could have shared, just a little. The public's dying to know."

She giggled at that, shifted, and nearly overbalanced. "We're all dying to know. Whoops. Not yet. Too much fun, don't want to rush it." Straightening, she waved at the air vans. "Usually I hate the damn visual media. Can't think why, just now. I love everybody!" She shouted the last, tossing her arms wide.

"That's nice, Cerise. Why don't you come back up for a minute. I'll give you some data on the honeymoon. Exclusive."

Cerise smiled slyly. "Uh-uh-uh." The refusal was playful again, almost a giggle. "Why don't you come down and join me? You can go with me. I'm telling you, it's the ultimate."

"Now, Ms. Devane," the shrink began, "all of us have moments of despair. I understand. I'm with you. I hear your sorrow."

"Oh stuff it." Cerise brushed him back with a gesture. "I'm talking to Eve. Come on down, sweetie. But not too close." She shook the spray and giggled. "Come on and join the party."

"Lieutenant, I don't recommend that you – "

"Shut up and go wait for my aide," Eve told him as she swung a leg over the steel safety wall, lowered herself over the edge.

The wind didn't seem quite so pleasant when she was dangling seventy stories over the street, nudged on a steel ledge barely two feet wide. Here it buffeted and swirled, aided by the backwash from the air vans. It plucked at the clothes and slapped the skin. She ordered her heart to stop jumping and pressed her back to the building.

"Isn't it beautiful," Cerise sighed. "I'd love to have some wine now, wouldn't you? No, a big flute of champagne. Roarke's Reserve forty-seven would go down smooth right now."

"I think we've got a case at home. Let's go open one."

Cerise laughed, turned her head, and smiled hugely. And it was the smile, Eve realized as her heart lurched again, she'd seen on the face of a young man hanging from a homemade noose. "I'm already drunk on happiness."

"If you're happy, why are you sitting naked on a ledge considering taking the last leap?"

"That's what makes me happy. I don't know why you don't understand." Cerise lifted her face to the sky, closed her eyes. Eve risked shifting a few inches closer. "I don't know why everyone doesn't understand. It's so beautiful. It's so thrilling. It's everything."

"Cerise, you go off this ledge, it's nothing. It's over."

"No, no, no." She opened her eyes again, and they were glazed. "It's just the beginning, don't you see? Oh, we're all so blind."

"Whatever's wrong can be fixed. I know." Carefully, Eve laid a hand on Cerise's. She didn't grip, didn't want to risk it. "Surviving's what counts. You can change things, make things better, but you have to survive to do it."

"Do you know how much work that is? And what's the point when there's so much pleasure just waiting. I feel so good. Don't." Chuckling, Cerise aimed the spray at Eve's face. "Don't spoil it now. I'm having such a nice time."

"You have people who are worried about you. You have family, Cerise, who love you." Eve strained to remember. Was there a child, a spouse, parents? "If you do this, you'll hurt them."

"Only until they understand. The time's coming when everyone will understand. It's going to be better then. Beautiful then." She looked dreamily into Eve's eyes, that beaming and terrifying smile on her lips. "Come with me." She grabbed Eve's hand, clutched. "It's going to be wonderful. You only have to let go."

Sweat snaked a line down Eve's back. The woman's grip was like a vise, and a struggle for freedom could doom them both. She forced herself not to resist, to ignore the twisting wind and the hum of the air vans documenting every movement. "I don't want to die, Cerise," she said calmly. "And neither do you. Self-termination is for cowards."

"No, it's for explorers. But suit yourself." Cerise patted Eve's hand, released it, and gave a long, trilling laugh to the wind. "Oh God, I'm so happy," she said and, throwing her arms wide, leaned forward into space.

Instinctively, Eve grabbed. She nearly lost her perch as her fingertips brushed the trim line of Cerise's hip. She banged onto her side, fought the roll forward as wind and space pulled at her. Gravity worked fast, mercilessly. Eve stared down into that wildly smiling face until it was only a blur.

"Jesus God. Oh, Jesus God." Dizzy with reaction, she pushed herself up, leaned her head back, shut her eyes. Screams and shouts rained on her, and the air displaced by the media van coming in for a close-up struck her cheeks.

"Lieutenant. Dallas."

The voice was like a bee buzzing in her ears, and Eve simply shook her head.

On the roof, Peabody stared down and fought against the nausea rising into her throat. All she could see now was that Eve was pressed on the ledge, white as a sheet, and one careful move would send her after the woman she'd tried to save. Taking a deep breath, Peabody trained her voice to sharp, professional tones.

"Lieutenant Dallas, you're needed here. I require your recorder for a full report."

"I hear you," Eve said wearily. Keeping her eyes straight ahead, she reached behind to grip the edge of the roof. As a hand locked over hers, she got to her feet. Turning her back to the fall, she looked dead into Peabody's eyes, read the fear. "The last time I thought about jumping, I was eight." Though her legs shook a bit, she swung back onto the roof. "I won't go that way."

"Jesus, Dallas." Forgetting herself for a moment, Peabody gave Eve a hard hug. "You scared the hell out of me. I thought she was going to pull you off."

"So did I. She didn't. Get a grip here, Peabody. The press is having a field day."

"Sorry." Peabody pulled back, coloring a bit. "Sorry."

"No problem." Eve looked over to where the shrink was standing at the edge, one hand to his heart in a pose for the busy cameras. "Asshole," she muttered. She dug her hands into her pockets. She needed a minute, just another minute, to settle. "I couldn't stop her, Peabody. I couldn't find the right button to push."

"Sometimes there isn't one."

"There was one that switched her onto this," Eve said quietly. "There had to be one to switch her off."

"I'm sorry, Dallas. You knew her."

"Not really. Just one of the people who walk past a corner of your life." She pushed it away, had to push it away. Death, however it came, always left responsibilities. "Let's see what we can do here. Did you tag Feeney?"

"Affirmative. He locked on her 'links from EDD and said he would head over personally. I downloaded data on the subject, didn't take time to scan it."

They walked toward the office. Through the glass, Rabbit could be seen sitting with his head between his knees. "Do me a favor, Peabody. Pass that limp rag off to a uniform for a formal statement. I don't want to deal with him right now. I want her office secured. Let's see if we can figure out what the hell she was doing that set her off."

Peabody marched in, had Rabbit up and out with a uniform in seconds. With wicked efficiency, she cleared the room, sealed the outer doors. "It's all ours, sir."

"Haven't I told you not to call me sir?"

"Yes, sir," Peabody said with a smile she hoped would lift the heavy mood.

"There's a smart-ass lurking under that uniform." Eve blew out a breath. "Recorder on, Peabody."

"Already on."

"Okay, here she is. She's in early, pissed off. Rabbit says she was hyped about some litigation. Get data on that." As she spoke, Eve wandered the room, absorbing details. Sculptures, mostly mythological figures in bronze. Very stylized. Deep blue carpet to match the sky, the desk in rose tones with a mirror gloss. Office equipment sleek and modern and tinted that same flowery shade. A huge copper urn exploded with exotic blooms, and Eve noticed a pair of potted trees.

She crossed to the computer, took her master pass out of her field kit, and called for the last use report

Last use, 8:10 AM., call for file number 3732-1 legal, Custler v Tattler Enterprises.

"That'd be the lawsuit she was pissed about," Eve concluded. "Jibes with Rabbit's earlier statement." She glanced down at a marble ashtray loaded with a half dozen cigarette butts. Using tweezers, she picked one up, examined it. "Caribbean tobacco. Web filter. Pricey. Bag these."

"You think they might be laced with something?"

"She was laced with something. Her eyes were wrong." She wouldn't forget them, Eve knew, for a long, long time. "We can hope there's enough left of her for a tox report. Take a sample of those coffee dregs, too."

But Eve didn't think they would find what she was looking for in the tobacco or the coffee. There had been no chemical trace in any of the other suicides.

"Her eyes were wrong," Eve repeated. "And her smile. I've seen that smile before, Peabody. A couple of times now."

As she tucked the evidence bags away, Peabody glanced up. "You think this is connected with the others?"

"I think Cerise Devane was a successful, ambitious woman. And we'll go through procedure, but I'm willing to lay odds we won't find a motive for self-termination. She sends Rabbit out," Eve continued, pacing the office. Annoyed by the constant hum, she glanced up, scowled at the air van still hovering. "See if you can find the privacy shields. I'm tired of those jerks."

"A pleasure." Peabody hunted up the control panel. "I thought I saw Nadine Furst in one of them. The way she was leaning out, it was a good thing she was wearing a harness. She might have ended up as the lead on her own newscast."

"At least she'll get it right," Eve said half to herself and nodded when the privacy shields slid into place and closed off the glass. "Good. Lights," she ordered, and brought the brightness back up. "She wanted to relax, level herself off for the rest of the day."

Eve poked into a cold box, found soft drinks, fruit, wine. One of the wine bottles had been opened and resealed, but there was no glass to indicate Cerise had started drinking early. And it wasn't a couple of belts that had put that look in her eyes, Eve mused.

In the adjoining bath, complete with whirlpool, personal sauna, and mood enhancer tube, she found a cupboard filled with soothers and tranqs and legalized lifters. "A big believer in chemical assistance, our Cerise," she commented. "Take them in for testing."

"Jesus, she's got her own pharmacy. The mood tube's set on concentration mode, and the last use was yesterday morning. She didn't take a spin this morning."

"So what does she do to relax?" Eve stepped into an adjoining room, which was a small sitting room, she noted, complete with full entertainment unit, sleep chair, serving droid.

A lovely, sage-green suit was neatly folded on a small table. Matching shoes stood on the floor under it. Jewelry – a heavy linked gold chain, complicated twists of earrings, a slim bracelet watch-recorder – had been slipped tidily in a glass bowl.

"She undressed in here. Why? What was the point?"

"Some people relax better without the confines of clothes," Peabody said, then flushed when Eve cast a considering glance over her shoulder. "I've heard."

"Yeah. Maybe. But it doesn't suit her. She was a real put-together woman. Her assistant told me he'd never even seen her without shoes, and suddenly she's a closet nudist. I don't think so."

Her gaze landed on the VR goggles on the arm of the sleep chair. "Maybe she took a trip after all," Eve murmured. "She's frazzled, wants to smooth the edges. So she comes in here, stretches out, programs something, and takes a little ride."

Eve sat, picked up the goggles. VR goggles, she mused. Fitzhugh and Mathias had taken trips before death as well. "I'm going to see where she went and when. Ah, if I appear to have any suicidal urges after I'm done – or decide I can relax better without the confines of my clothes – you're ordered to knock me cold."

"Without hesitation, sir."

Eve cocked a brow. "But you're not expected to enjoy it."

"I'll hate every minute of it," Peabody promised, and folded her hands.

With a weak laugh, Eve slipped the goggles on. "Display log," she ordered. "Bull's-eye. She went VR at 8:17 this morning."

"Dallas, if that's the case, maybe you shouldn't do this. We can take it in and test it under controlled conditions."

"You're my control, Peabody. If I look too happy to live shortly, zap me. Replay last run program," Eve ordered and settled back. "Jesus." She hissed it out as two young studs walked toward her. Dressed only in strips of glossy black leather studded with silver, they were oiled, muscled, and fully aroused.

Her environment was now a white room, mostly bed, and there was satin under her naked body, gauze draped overhead to filter the candlelight from a soaring chandelier of glittery crystal.

Music, something low and pagan, throbbed on the air. She was draped over a mountain of feather pillows, and as she started to shift, the first young god straddled her.

"Hey, listen, pal – "

"For your pleasure only, mistress," he crooned and rubbed her breasts with scented oil.

This is a bad idea, she thought as little involuntary shivers of pleasure centered in her gut. Oil was slicked over her stomach, her thighs, down her legs to her toes.

She could understand how the current situation could make a woman strip and smile, but not how it could drive her to suicide.

Stick it out, she ordered herself and turned her mind to something else. She thought of the report she needed to give her commander. Of unexplained shadows on the brain.

Teeth closed delicately over her nipple, a tongue slid wetly over the captured point. She arched in reaction, but the hand she shot out in protest slipped off a taut, oil-slicked shoulder.

Then the second stud knelt between her legs and went to work on her with his mouth.

She came before she could stop herself, a small pop of release. Panting, she ripped the goggles off and found Peabody gaping at her.

"It wasn't a walk on a quiet beach," Eve managed.

"I could see that. What was it, exactly?"

"A couple of mostly naked guys and a big satin bed." Eve blew out a breath, set the goggles down. "Who'd have thought she relaxed with sex fantasies?"

"Ah, Lieutenant. Sir. As your aide, I believe it's my responsibility to test that unit. For evidence control."

Eve tucked her tongue in her cheek. "Peabody, I couldn't let you take that kind of risk."

"I'm a cop, sir. Risk is my life."

Eve rose, held out the goggles as Peabody's eyes lit. "Bag it, Officer."

Deflated, Peabody dumped the goggles into a seal. "Hell. Were they good looking?"

"Peabody, they were gods." She stepped back into the office proper, gave it one more scan. "I'm going to order in sweepers, but I don't think they'll find anything. I'll take the disc you downloaded into Central, contact next of kin – though the media will already have this all over the fucking airwaves."

She hitched up her field kit. "I don't feel at all suicidal."

"I'm relieved to hear it, Lieutenant."

Still, Eve frowned at the goggles. "How long was I riding that, five minutes?"

"Nearly twenty." Peabody gave a sour smile. "Time flies when you're having sex."

"I wasn't having sex." Guilt had her worrying her wedding ring. "Exactly. If there'd been something in that program, I should have felt it, so that looks like a dead end. Have it analyzed anyway."

"Will do."

"You wait for Feeney. Maybe he'll find something interesting on her 'link logs. I'm going to go grovel to the commander. When you finish here, deliver the bags to the lab, then report to my office." Eve started for the door, tossed a look over her shoulder. "And Peabody, no playing with the evidence."

"Spoilsport," she muttered when Eve was out of earshot.