Ceremony In Death

"Yes, sir." Peabody let out a shaky breath as Eve's boots clicked down the corridor. "Understood," she said to herself and shut her eyes.

"A little rough on her," Feeney commented when he caught up.

"Don't you start on me."

He only held up a hand. "Isis came in voluntarily. I put her in Room B."

With a jerk of the head, Eve changed directions and pulled open the door of Room B.

Isis stopped her restless pacing and spun around. "How could you do this to him? How could you bring him here? He's terrified of places like this."

"Charles Forte is being held for questioning in the stabbing death of Louis Trivane, among others." In contrast to Isis's raised and furious voice, Eve's was cold and flat. "He has not yet been charged."

"Charged?" Her golden skin paled. "You can't believe Chas had anything to do with a murder. Trivane? We don't know any Louis Trivane."

"And you know everyone Forte knows, Isis?" Eve set the file on the table, kept her hand on it as if to remind herself what was inside. "You know everything he does and thinks and plans?"

"We are as close as it's possible for human bodies and minds and souls to be. There is no harm in him." The temper drained out of her. Now her voice trembled. "Let me take him home. Please."

Eve met the pleading eyes straight on, forced herself not to feel. "Did you know, being as close as it's possible, that he'd decided to get equally close, bodily speaking, with Mirium?"

"Mirium?" Isis blinked once, then nearly laughed. "That's ridiculous."

"She told me herself. She smiled when she told me." Remembering that, bringing that image back, dried up any sympathy. "She smiled as she straddled what was left of Louis Trivane, while his blood was smeared all over her hands and her face and the knife she held."

As her legs went weak, Isis reached out blindly to brace a hand on the back of a chair. "Mirium killed someone? That's impossible."

"I thought all things were possible in your sphere. I walked in on her little ceremony myself." Eve's fingers curled on the file, but she didn't open it. There was still pity, after all, for the woman who loved and believed. "She was very cooperative, happily told me that Forte had allowed her to kill Trivane herself. Unlike the others, where she only observed."

Using her hand to keep her balance, Isis stepped unsteadily around the chair, eased herself into it. "She's lying." There was a lance in her heart, quivering there. "Chas has nothing to do with this. How could I have missed this part of her?'' Closing her eyes, Isis rocked herself gently. "How could I not have seen? We initiated her, we took her in. We made her one of us."

"Can't see everything, can you?" Eve angled her head. "I think you should be more worried about your vision as it applies to Charles Forte."

"No." She opened her eyes again. There was misery in them, but behind it was a steel Eve recognized. "There's no one I see more clearly than Chas. She's lying."

"She'll be tested. In the meantime, you may want to rethink allowing yourself to be used as his alibi. He's betrayed your trust," Eve said, stepping closer. "It could have been you, Isis, at any time. Mirium's younger, probably more biddable. I wonder how much longer he'd have pretended to let you run the show."

"How can you not understand what there is between us when you have it yourself? Do you think the word of some disturbed young woman would make me doubt the man I love? Would it make you doubt Roarke?"

"It's not my personal life that's in dire straits here," Eve said evenly. "It's yours. If you care for him so much, then cooperate with me. It's the only way to stop him, and to get him help."

"Help?" Isis's mouth twisted. "You don't want to help him. You want him to be guilty, you want him to be punished, because of where he came from. Because of his father."

Eve looked down at the folder in her hands, the plain tan cover that hid the terrible images of terrible death. "You're wrong." She spoke quietly now, almost to herself. "I wanted him to be i

Then she lifted her gaze, met Isis's. "The warrant will have come through by now. We'll search your shop and your apartment. Whatever we find can be used against you as well."

"It won't matter." Isis forced herself to stand. "You won't find anything to help you."

"You're entitled to be present during the search."

"No. I'll stay here. I want to see Chas."

"You're not related or legally married – "

"Dallas." Isis interrupted quietly. "You have a heart. Please listen to it and let me see him."

Yes, she had a heart. And it ached to see the plea in the eyes of a strong woman. "I can give you five minutes through security glass." As she wrenched the door open, she set her teeth. "Tell him to get a lawyer, for God's sake."

– =O=-***-=O=-

In the storeroom of Spirit Quest and in a workroom in the apartment above, were dozens of bottles and containers and boxes. They were filled with liquid and powder and leaves and seeds. She found organized records detailing the contents and their uses.

Eve ordered everything sent to the lab for analysis.

She found knives, carved handles and plain, long-bladed and short. She tagged a sweeper, ordered him to scan for traces of blood. Ceremonial robes and street clothes were sca

She blocked out the voices – sweepers never worked quietly – and went about her job with focused efficiency.

And there, under a neatly folded stack of robes kept fresh in a chest smelling of rosemary and cedar, she found the balled-up and bloody black robe.

"Here." She signaled to a sweeper. "Scan it."

"Nice sample." The sweeper snapped her gum, ran the nozzle of her shoulder unit over the cloth. "Mostly on the sleeves." Behind her protective goggles, the sweeper's eyes were mildly bored. "Human," she confirmed. "A neg. Can't tell you much more with a portable."

"That's enough." Eve slid the robe into a bag, sealed and labeled it for evidence. "Wineburg was A negative." She looked at Peabody as she handed the bag to her. "Careless of him, wasn't it?"

"Yes, sir." Dutifully, Peabody stored the bag in her evidence kit. "It would seem so."

"Lobar was O positive." She moved to another chest, hauled back the domed lid. "Keep looking."

Twilight had settled with its dim light and fitful breezes when she climbed back in her car. Since the tension was still simmering between her and Peabody, she didn't bother to speak but engaged her car 'link instead.

"Lieutenant Dallas for Dr. Mira."

"Dr. Mira is in session," the receptionist said politely. "I'll be happy to log your message."

"Has she tested Mirium Hopkins?"

"One moment while I check the logs." The receptionist slid her gaze to the side, then back. "That session has been rescheduled for eight thirty tomorrow morning."

"Rescheduled, why?"

"The log notes indicate that the subject complained of severe head pain, and on examination by the physician on duty, was medicated."

"Who was the physician on duty?" Eve asked through clenched teeth.

"Dr. Arthur Simon."

"Simon Says; figures." Disgusted, Eve whipped her car around a slow-moving maxibus packed with commuters. "He'll give you a double tranq for a hangnail."

The receptionist grimaced in sympathy. "I'm sorry, Lieutenant, but the subject was already medicated before her scheduled testing. Dr. Mira is unable to proceed until morning."

"Fine. Terrific. Ask her to let me know as soon as she's done." Eve broke transmission. "Son of a bitch. I'm going in to take a look at her, myself. Deliver the bags to the lab, Peabody, with a request for rush – for what good that does. Then you're off duty."

"You'll interview Forte again tonight."

"That's right."

"Sir, I request to be present during interview."