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“How was Anders killed?” Roarke asked her.
“Give me impressions first. The vic, the widow, anyone else who applies.”
“Anders would’ve been the second generation of the company—taking it over from his father, who I believe died a year or so ago. A bit longer maybe. It does quite well, good quality products at a reasonable price point.”
“Not the business,” Eve said as she wound through the garage. “Not for now.”
“One influences the other. Lived fairly quietly, I believe. Sports mad—both him and Ben—which fits with the fact they sell and develop sports equipment. He enjoyed golf, particularly, I believe, and various other games that feature whacking or hurling a ball about. I gather he preferred, when possible, to conduct his business on some court or green rather than in the office. My impression would be he enjoyed his work, and was good at it.”
Eve streamed through traffic, cutting around a maxibus, then began to hack her way across town. “How about the spouse?”
“Attractive, well-spoken. Ah, involved in some charity work, it seems to me. Anders sponsors sports camps for underprivileged children. I believe she beats the drum for funding. I can’t say I’ve seen them out and about together more than a handful of times, but he had a reputation for avoiding the social scene…as some do.”
She slid her eyes in his direction. “I go to stuff. Impressions of their relationship?”
“Hard to say, as we weren’t chummy. They struck me as a team, appeared affectionate. In synch, I suppose I’d say.”
“Any mumbles about him screwing around on her?”
Roarke’s brows lifted. “None I’ve heard, though I don’t know as I would, either way. Is that basic cop cynicism, or is there reason for you to believe he cheated on his wife?”
“At the time of death, the wife was out of town. That’s verified. Anders’s housekeeper—house manager,” Eve corrected, “found him this morning just after six. Naked, hands and feet bound with black velvet rope. The kind the bondage shops sell by the yard. Another length was wrapped around his neck in what would appear to be an erotic scarfing session gone bad. There were numerous sex aids and toys on the nightstand, and the corpse still sported an impressive hard-on when the primary began her investigation. There was no sign of forced entry, no sign of struggle, no additional visible signs of trauma or violence on the body.”
Roarke was silent a moment. “People have their secrets, and the appetites they hide from the rest. Still, I wouldn’t have thought him the sort for sport of that nature. It’s the kind of salacious details the media will salivate over. Difficult for the family he leaves.”
“Anybody you can think of who might want to do him, and set it up so the media salivates?”
“For what point? If you’re thinking a competitor, killing Anders doesn’t kill, or damage, the com
pany. And a scandal like this? It wouldn’t hurt stock or sales—not appreciably. In fact, it might give them a temporary boost. People are odd creatures. I need a new pair of track shoes, one might say. I think I’ll buy some by that guy who died with a boner.”
“If he lasted, so will they.”
“Exactly. They could use it as a bloody slogan.”
“Forrest’s alibi checks,” Peabody said from the backseat. “I tagged EDD, and they’ve got a geek squad on scene. Another will be transporting Anders’s office electronics. First report verifies my findings. Security shut down at two twenty-eight, rebooted at three thirty-six. Security was dark for nearly an hour.”
“Had to be remote.” Eve glanced at Roarke. “Have to have the passcode or system specs to avoid the auto alarm.”
“There are ways. There are always ways.”
“You wouldn’t need ways unless it was premeditated. Randy Tom’s going to entertain, he doesn’t need to shut down his security. His wife’s out of the country, and for several days yet. So he lets them in, or he gives them the passcode. This way? It’s too elaborate, it’s too fucking careful.”
“With a side of mean,” Roarke added. “There are ways, always ways, to kill a man. Why choose to kill this way? Intimately, and in a manner that smears the victim and his family?”
“We’ll find out. First stop.” Eve pulled over to double park in front of the morgue. “Peabody, I’ll take this. Head back to Central, start the runs. See if you can locate the vic’s golf partner, and run him. I want EDD to start evaluations on what type of remote was used. Let’s start a time line on the vic’s day yesterday.”
Ignoring the furious blast of horns, she shifted to Roarke. “This is your stop, ace.”
He glanced through the window at the morgue. “Not for some time, I hope. Good luck, Peabody,” he added as he slipped out of the car to join Eve on the sidewalk. “I could make some inquiries. I know people who knew him, people who did business with him.”
“You could.” Considering that, Eve stuck her hands in her pockets, and surprised herself by finding gloves in them. “Word’s spreading by now, so it couldn’t hurt. Do you really have business downtown?”
“I do. But even if I didn’t, it would’ve been worth the trip.”
She looked at him in the stubbornly frigid, blowing wind. “Murder talk makes it worth the trip?”
“As entertaining as that invariably is, no. This would make it worth the trip.”
