Ceremony In Death

"Whatever works for you.'' Eve sca

"Maybe they've got decent coffee," Peabody said and sneezed twice, hard. "If I catch a cold, I'll kill myself. It takes me weeks to throw one of those suckers off."

"Maybe you need a plant to cart around that wards off common germs." Leaving it at that, Eve hopped out of the car, coded the locks, and jogged across the street into Coffee Ole.

The stab at a Mexican theme wasn't bad, she decided. Bright colors – heavy on orange – gave it a su

Either the rain or the ambiance had brought in a crowd. But as Eve sca

"Baseball's closing in on the league titles, isn't it, Peabody?"

Peabody sneezed again. "Baseball? I guess. Arena ball's my game."

"Uh-huh. Seems to me there a pe

Peabody's head was starting to feel stuffy – a very bad sign – but it was still clear enough for her to latch on. "You figure this is a front, an illegal betting parlor."

"Just a hunch. We may be able to use it." She sidled up to the counter, tagged a harassed-looking man. Short of stature, dark of complexion, weary of eye.

"Eat in or carry out?"

"Neither,'' she began, then relented as she heard Peabody sniffle. "One coffee, for her. And a couple of answers."

"I've got coffee." He swiveled around to plug thick dark brew into a cup barely bigger than a thimble. "I got no answers."

"Maybe you should hear the questions."

"Lady, I got a full house here. I serve coffee. I got no time for conversation." He dumped the cup on the counter and would have backed away, but Eve snagged his wrist. "What are the house odds on the game today?"

His eyes shifted left and right before settling on her face. But he'd spotted Peabody and her uniform. "Don't know what you're talking about."

"You know, if me and my pal here settle in for a few hours, your business is going into the recycler. Personally, I don't give a good damn about your business, any of your business. But I could." Still holding his wrist, she turned her head and stared hard at two of the men seated at the counter.

It took less than ten seconds for them to decide to drink coffee elsewhere. "How long do you think it'd take me to clear this place out?"

"What do you want? I make my contribution. I'm covered."

She let him go. It a

He snorted, visibly relaxed. She wasn't after him. Feeling cooperative, he refilled Peabody's cup, then picked up a rag and wiped the counter. He ran a clean place. "The witch? She don't come in here. Don't drink coffee, if you know what I mean."

"She's closed today."

"Yeah?" He narrowed his eyes to try to see through the window, through the rain. "Not usually."

"When did you see her last?"

"Shit." He scratched the back of his neck. "Let's see. Seems I saw her yesterday. Closing time? Yeah, yeah, she closes about six, and I was washing the front windows. You gotta keep on the windows in this city. Dirt just jumps right on them."

"I bet. She closed about six. Then what?''

"Went off with that guy she lives with. Walking. They don't got transpo."

"You haven't seen her today?"

"Now that you mention it, guess not. She lives up above, you know. Me, I live across town. Keep business and personal life separate, that's my motto."

"Any of her people ever come over here?"

"Nah. Some of her customers, sure. And some of mine go over there looking for lucky charms. We bump along okay. She ain't no problem for me. Even bought the wife a birthday present over there. Pretty little bracelet, colored stones. Kinda stiff in the price, but women like that glitter shit."

He tossed the rag aside and ignored the request for coffee from down the counter. "Look, she in trouble? She's okay in my book. Weird maybe, but ain't no harm in her."

"What do you know about the girl who used to work there? Young girl, about eighteen. Blonde."

"The spooky one? Sure, I used to see her come and go. Always looking over her shoulder that one, like somebody was going to jump out and say boo."

Someone did, Eve thought. "Thanks. If you see Isis come back today, give me a call." She slipped a card onto the counter along with credits for the coffee.

"No problem. Wouldn't like to see her get in trouble, though. She's okay for a whacko. Hey." He lifted a finger as Eve started to turn. "Speaking of whackos, I saw one a couple of nights ago when I was closing up."

"What sort of whacko?"

"Just a guy. Well, might have been a woman. Couldn't tell 'cause they was all wrapped up in this black robe, hood and everything. Just standing there on the curb, staring across the street at her place. Just standing and staring. Gave me the creeps. I walked the other way. Twice as far to the bus stop, but I didn't like the feel of it. And you know what? I looked back, and there wasn't no one there. Nothing but a damn cat. Whacko, huh?''

"Yeah," Eve murmured. "Whacko."

"I saw a cat," Peabody began when they headed back to the car, "on the street when Alice was killed."

"There are lots of cats in the city."

But Eve remembered the one on the ramp. Sleek and black and mean. "We'll follow up with Isis later. I want to check with the ME before I feed the statement to the media." She uncoded the car as Peabody sneezed again. "Maybe he'll have something for that cold."

Peabody rubbed her hand under her nose. "I'd just as soon stop by a pharmacy, if you don't mind. I don't want Dr. Death treating me until absolutely necessary."

– =O=-***-=O=-

After she was back in her office and Peabody was off changing into a dry uniform and dosing herself with a small fortune of over-the-counters, Eve studied the autopsy report on Lobar.

She'd had the time of death right in the prelim, and the cause. Then again, she mused, it was tough to miss a mile-wide gash in the throat and a crater in the chest. And, fancy that, there had been traces of a hallucinogen, a stimulant, and a mind hazer – all of the illegals variety – in his bloodstream.

So he'd died sexually fulfilled and zoned. Some, she imagined, would say that wasn't such a bad deal. But then, most of them hadn't had a knife raked over their throats.

She lifted the sealed weapon, studied it. No prints, of course, and none expected. No blood on it but for the victim's. She studied the carved black handle, sca

Still, she would check antique shops, knife shops, and, she supposed, witch shops. That would only take weeks, she thought in disgust, and was unlikely to lead anywhere.

Since she had twenty minutes before she had to face the media, she turned to her machine and got started. She'd no more than plugged in the description of the weapon when Feeney walked in, shut her door.

"Heard you had a rude awakening this morning."

"Yeah." Her stomach clutched, not in memory of what had come into her home, but at knowing she would have to weigh every word with him. "Not the kind of package I like to receive."