Chapter Six #3
Eve supposed the shirt sort of matched whatever Callendar had done to her hair, as the bouncing bob held every color in a bizarre rainbow and in wild swirls and streaks.
“Elevators jammed, one of the glides went down, so jammed. Sorry.”
“You were quick enough. Peabody’s going to brief you.”
“I’ll jump in the back with you. Love the new do!”
“Yeah, I bounced into Trina’s on my day off and said go for it. She totally did.”
Eve pulled out of the garage, waited, judged, then zipped into traffic.
“McNab gave me a little, and it’s making the rounds anyway. DB, beat into a nasty puddle, no weapon used. Science guy, right? Maybe a droid illegally and crazily programmed? Science guys can push boundaries.”
“Low on that.”
Eve tuned them out, concentrated on traffic and making time through it.
“Banner-Wyst.” Callendar pursed magenta lips.
“I have a friend—medical girl—she did some time in like the Sudan and Kenya, I think, working with them, for them? Whichever. Said it was rough, but rewarding. Except she said, seems to me, she didn’t like how they had acquisition types wheeling and dealing for land, property, and recruitment types making pitches to the locals for work, and usually somewhere else. ”
Eve tuned back in.
“When was this?”
“A couple years ago. She liked how they had the medicals there to treat people, vaccinate, medicate, do what doctors do. They’d have environmentalists helping teach and train the locals on regenerative farming, better crop production, green housing, and all that.
But she didn’t like how they were getting as much as they gave, and probably more. ”
Callendar shrugged. “She’s doing a tour with a nonprofit now, maybe in Afghanistan. I know she likes it better. It’s her jamboree, you know?”
“Can you get in touch with her?”
“Sure. Probably.”
“Try, and see if she can tell you anything more specific. Names, dates, specific agendas.”
“Okay. It usually takes a couple, three days for her to get back to me, but I’ll tag her up. You’re looking at something hinky with Banner-Wyst.”
“Pretty sure there’s plenty hinky with Banner-Wyst. Whether or not it relates to murder’s another thing.”
She pulled up on Riverside behind the police cruiser, and stepping out, took a look at the house.
Private residence, a couple spreading stories with a lot of one-way glass, and an enviable river view. Lofty, she realized, was the word that came to mind.
No question a place like this would have top-level security.
“It’s a Roarke system,” Callendar said from beside her. “The highest of highfalutin. I want to say with enough time, equipment, and smarts, you can get through anything, but getting through this would take a lot of all that.”
“Check it, check the security feed. Look for opening a door, a window using the victim’s security code, by remote.”
“Yeah, slick. I’m on it.”
Eve walked to towering double entrance doors, scanned the discreet palm plate, retinal scan, swipe slot. Before she could ring the bell, the right-side door opened.
“Lieutenant, Detectives. Officer Morrison. My partner Officer Taney’s with the victim’s cohab, who made the nine-one-one.”
Eve stepped into a—yes—lofty foyer with a wide, curved staircase leading up to an open second floor with glass railings.
A rolling weekender and a briefcase sat at the base of it with a red topcoat tossed over the weekender.
The black marble floor had veinings of white. Overhead an enormous black iron chandelier had teardrop drips of white lights.
On one wall a silvery waterfall slid down into a narrow pool.
Chairs so clear they were almost invisible flanked it.
A large brass gong stood on the opposing wall beside the opening to a long, wide living area.
Inside, much of the furniture looked as though someone had built it out of black and red boxes.
A fireplace, no more than a foot high and easily six feet long, recessed in the wall, simmered with red-and-blue flames.
“It’s a house,” Morrison said, shrugged.
“Yeah. What have you got?”
“Joleen Everly, of this residence, called in the nine-one-one at twelve-twelve. She returned home from a business trip, found the body in the lounge area at the rear of the house. No visible signs of break-in, and she went through security protocol to enter. LT, she said she mostly recognized him because he’s wearing the ring she gave him for his birthday a couple years ago. ”
Morrison puffed out his cheeks. “He took one hell of a beating.”
“Okay. Where’s the cohab?”
“Upstairs sitting room with my partner. She’s holding on, but barely.”
“Detective Callendar will locate and check security. Detective Peabody and I will take the body. We’ll speak to Ms. Everly shortly.”
“I can show you the security hub, Detective. We asked Everly for the location. You head back, Lieutenant, you won’t miss the body.”
“Show me the way, Officer,” Callendar said cheerfully.
“A wing shoots off left behind the stairs.”
They started back, with Callendar peeling off.
No, Eve thought, you couldn’t miss the body.
You could easily follow the trails of blood and viscera to where it lay, broken and crumpled, on the black marble floor beside a long gel sectional. On the back, the color of Roarke’s favored oatmeal, blood streaked alongside a single smeared handprint.
Peabody swallowed carefully. “Call me crazy, but I’m going to say we have a connection.”
“Yeah, I’d say we do. Record on.”