Ceremony In Death

"I suppose. I'm not getting anywhere." Eve set the bag on the table. "I keep taking wrong turns. I can feel it."

"Enough wrong turns, and you usually end up in the right place after all." He leaned forward, set his hands on her shoulders, and began to rub. "Mavis has a close friend who carries around too much stress." He worked on the knots. "I wonder who that could be?"

"Shut up."

He chuckled, kissed the nape of her neck. "You smell wonderful."

"It's that goop Trina poured all over me."

"She mentioned it. She said I'd enjoy it." He sniffed her neck again, made her chuckle. "And I am. She also said she managed to hold you down for a full body treatment. I'm to pay particular attention to your butt."

"She certainly did. She tried to talk me into a temp tattoo of a rosebud on my right cheek." She started to sigh, then bolted up, grabbing her ass. "Jesus Christ, she had me on the table for ten minutes. You don't think she snuck one on."

Roarke lifted a brow, then smiled slowly as he rose. "I'll have to make it my job to find out."

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

She had a rosebud on her ass., and wasn't happy about it. Standing naked in the bathroom, Eve adjusted the trifold mirror until she could get a good look.

"I think I could bust her for this," she muttered.

"Decorating a cop's posterior without a license?" Roarke suggested as he strolled in. "Felonious reproduction of floral imagery?''

"You're getting a big charge out of this, aren't you?" Miffed, Eve snagged a robe off the hook.

"Darling Eve, I thought I made it perfectly clear last night I was on your side of the issue. Didn't I do my best to chew it off?"

She would not laugh, she ordered herself as she bit down hard on her tongue. There was nothing fu

"What's your hurry? It's rather… sweet."

"What if I have to go in for a disinfect? Or need to shower or change at the station? Do you know what kind of grief a butt tattoo's going to get me?"

He slid his arms around her, clever enough to get them under rather than over the robe. "You're not working today."

"I'm going in. I've got to check my unit, see if Feeney shot back some data."

"And it won't make any difference if you do it Monday morning. We've got the day off."

"To do what?"

He merely smiled, slid his hands lower to stroke her rosebud.

"Didn't we just do that?"

"It bears repeating," he mused, "but it could wait a bit. Why don't we spend the day lazing around the pool?"

Lazing around the pool? It had a certain appeal. "Well, maybe…"

"In Martinique. Don't bother to pack," he told her, planting a quick kiss on her mouth. "You won't need anything but what you're wearing."

She spent the day in Martinique, wearing nothing but a smile and a rosebud. That might have been why she was dragging a bit more than usual on Monday morning.

"You look tired, Lieutenant." Peabody dug a bag out from her field kit, set two fresh cream donuts on the desk. She was still beaming over the fact that she'd gotten them through the bullpen without the hounds sniffing them out. "And sort of ta

"No. Just got some sun yesterday, that's all."

"It rained all day."

"Not where I was," Eve muttered and filled her mouth with pastry. "I've got a probability ratio to run by the commander. Feeney worked some numbers, we're still pretty light, but I'm going to shoot for round-the-clocks on the top suspects."

"I don't suppose you want my probability ratio on your chances of getting it. New interoffice came down this morning about excess overtime."

"Fuck it. It's not excess if it's necessary. Whitney could play it to the chief – and the chief could play it to the mayor. We've got two high-profile homicides, generating a lot of media. We need the manpower to close them and turn off the heat."

Peabody risked a smile. "You rehearsing your pitch."

"Maybe." She blew out a breath. "If the numbers were a few points higher, I wouldn't have to pitch so hard. There are too many people involved; that's the problem." Lifting her hands, she pressed her fingers to her eyes. "We've got to run the name of every member of both cults. Over two hundred people. Say we eliminate half on data and profile, then we've still got a hundred to tag, check alibis."

"Days of work," Peabody agreed. "The commander would probably spring for a couple of uniforms to knock on doors, sweep out the obvious noninvolved."

"I'm not sure there are any obvious noninvolved." Eve pushed away from her desk. "It took more than one person to transport Lobar's body, strap him onto that form. And it took a vehicle."

"None of the primes owns a vehicle large enough to have carried and concealed the body and the pentagram."

"Maybe one of the membership does. We run names through vehicle licensing. Failing that, we start checking on rentals, vehicles reported stolen on the night of the murder." She pushed at her hair. "And it's just as likely whoever dumped him jumped a vehicle from one of the long-term lots, and nobody ever noticed."

"Do we check, anyway?"

"Yeah, we check, anyway. Maybe Feeney can spare somebody in EDD to do some of the grunt work. Meanwhile, you get started, and I'll go begging to the commander." She punched her 'link when it beeped. "Dallas, Homicide."

"I need to talk to you."

"Louis?"

Eve cocked a brow. "You want to talk about the charges against your client regarding resisting, you talk to the PA."

"I need to talk to you," he repeated, and she watched as he lifted his hand to his mouth and began to gnaw away his perfect manicure. "Alone. Privately. As soon as possible."

She lowered a hand, signaling Peabody to keep back and out of view. "What about?''

"I can't talk about it on the 'link. I'm on my pocket unit, but even that's risky. I need you to meet me."

"Come here."

"No, no, they may be following me. I don't know. I can't be sure. I'm being careful."

Had he made the shadow Feeney'd put on him, Eve wondered, or was he just being paranoid? "Who might be following you?"

"You've got to meet me," he insisted. "At my club. The Luxury on Park. Level Five. I'll leave your name at the desk."

"Give me some incentive, Louis. I've got a full plate here."

"I think – I think I saw a murder. Just you, Eve. I won't talk to anyone else. Make sure you're not followed. Hurry."

Eve pursed her lips at the blank screen. "Well, that's incentive. I think we've caught a break, Peabody. See if you can sweet-talk Feeney into giving you an extra pair of hands from EDD."

"You're not going to meet him alone," Peabody protested as Eve grabbed her bag.

"I can handle one scared lawyer." Eve bent down, checked the clinch piece strapped to her ankle. "We've got a man outside the club in any case. And I'm leaving my communicator on. Monitor."

"Yes, sir. Watch your back."

– =O=-***-=O=-

The fifth floor of the Luxury Club held twenty private suites for the members' use. Meetings of a professional or private nature could be held there. Each suite was individually decorated to depict its own era, and each contained a complete communication and entertainment center.

Parties could be held there, of the large or the intimate nature. The catering department was unsurpassed in a city often preoccupied with food and drink. Licensed companions were available through the concierge for a small additional service charge.

Louis always booked Suite 5-C. He enjoyed the opulence of the eighteenth-century French style with its emphasis on the decorative. The rich fabrics of the upholstery on curved-backed chairs and velvet settees appealed to his love of texture. He enjoyed the thick, dark draperies, the gold tassels, the gleam of gilt on pier glass mirrors. He had entertained his wife, as well as an assortment of lovers, in the wide, high, canopy bed.