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“If you’re finished with your snit, we’ll go back on record. Using master to gain entrance to victim’s apartment,” Eve continued, and coded through the locks. She opened the door, examined it. “Interior chain and snap bolt were not in use. Living area lights are on dim. What do you smell, Peabody?”
“Ah . . . candles, maybe perfume.”
“What do you see?”
“Living area, nicely decorated and organized. The mood screen’s on. Looks like a spring meadow pattern. There are two wineglasses and an open bottle of red wine on the sofa table, indicating the victim had company at some point in the evening.”
“Okay.” Though she’d hoped Peabody would take it a little further, Eve nodded. “What do you hear?”
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sp; “Music. Audio system’s playing. Violins and piano. I don’t recognize the tune.”
“Not the tune, the tone,” Eve said. “Romance. Take another look around. Everything’s in place. Neat, tidy, and as noted, organized. But she left a bottle of wine sitting open, and used glasses sitting out? Why?”
“She didn’t have a chance to put them away.”
“Or turn off the lights, the audio, the mood screen.” She stepped through, glanced into the adjoining kitchen. The counters were clean, and empty but for the corkscrew, the wine cork. “Who opened the wine, Peabody?”
“The most likely conclusion would be her date. If she’d opened it, she would have, giving the indication of the apartment, put the corkscrew away, dumped the cork in her recycler.”
“Mmm. Living area balcony doors closed and secured from inside. If this was self-termination or an accidental fall, it wasn’t from this point. Let’s check the bedroom.”
“You don’t think it was self-termination or an accident.”
“I don’t think anything yet. What I know is the victim was a single woman who kept a very neat apartment and that evidence indicates she spent at least a portion of this evening at home with company.”
Eve turned into the bedroom. The audio played here as well, dreamy, fluid notes that seemed to drift on the breeze fluttering through the open balcony doors. The bed was unmade, and the disordered sheets were strewn with pink rose petals. A black dress, black undergarments, and black evening shoes were piled beside the bed.
Candles, guttering fragrantly in their own wax, were set around the room.
“Read the scene,” Eve ordered.
“It appears as if the victim engaged in or was about to engage in sexual intercourse prior to her death. There are no signs of struggle here or in the living area, which indicates the sex, or plans for the sex, were consensual.”
“This wasn’t sex, Peabody. This was seduction. We’re going to need to find out who seduced who. Record the scene, then get me those security discs.”
With a sealed finger, Eve eased open the drawer of the bedside table. “Goodie drawer.”
“Sir?”
“Sex drawer, Peabody. Single girl provisions, which in this case includes condoms. Victim liked men. Couple bottles of tasty body oils, a vibrator for when self-servicing is necessary or desired, and some vaginal lubricant. Fairly standard, even conservative and straight goodies. No toys or aids here to indicate victim leaned toward same-sex relationships.”
“So her date was a man.”
“Or a woman hoping to broaden Bankhead’s horizons. We’ll nail that down with the discs. And maybe we get lucky with the ME’s report and find some little soldiers in her.”
She stepped into the adjoining bath. It was sparkling clean, the ribbon-trimmed hand towels perfectly aligned. There were fancy soaps in a fancy dish, perfumed creams in glass-and-silver jars. “My guess is her bed partner didn’t hang around and wash up. Get the sweepers up here,” she ordered. “Let’s see if our Romeo left anything behind.”
She opened the mirror on the medicine cabinet, studied the contents. Normal over-the-counter meds, nothing heavy. A six-month supply of twenty-eight day contraceptive pills.
The drawer beside the sink was packed, and meticulously organized, with cosmetic enhancers. Lip dyes, lash lengtheners, face and body paints.
Bryna had spent a lot of time in front of this mirror,Eve mused. If the little black dress, the wine, the candlelight were anything to go by, she’d spent considerable time in front of it tonight. Preparing herself for a man.
Moving to the bedroom ’link, Eve played back the last call and stood, listening to Bryna Bankhead, pretty in her little black dress, talk of her big plans for the evening with a brunette she called CeeCee.
I’m a little nervous, but mostly I’m just excited. We’re finally going to meet. How do I look?
