Time of Death (3 page)

“She can’t come to the ’link.” Peabody spoke now, more gently. “Ms. Kent was killed last night in her apartment.”

“My sister,” Martine said even as she gripped Daffy’s hand.

“Your sister’s fine,” Peabody told her. “You can go ahead and contact her.”

“Miss Daffy.”

“Go on,” Daffy said stiffly, and the bored young party girl was gone. In her place was a stunned young woman clutching her robe together at her throat with a trembling hand. “Go on, go on. This isn’t a joke, this isn’t Tee taking a slap at me? She’s dead?”

“Yes.”

“But . . . I don’t see how that can be. She’s only twenty-three. You’re not supposed to be dead at twenty-three, and we’re fighting. We can’t be fighting when she’s dead. How . . . Killed? Did you say somebody killed Tee?”

Now Eve sat, choosing the glossy white table in front of the sofa so she and Daffy were on a level. “She’s been seeing someone recently.”

“What? Yeah. But . . .” Daffy looked around blankly. “What?”

Reaching out, Eve took the cup of mocha from Daffy’s limp fingers, set it aside. “Do you know the name of the man she’s been seeing recently?”

“I . . . She called him her prince. Lots of times she had names for her men. This one was Prince. Dark Prince, sometimes.” Daffy pressed her hands to her eyes, then dragged them up over her face, through her hair. “She’s only been into him for a week or so. Maybe two. I can’t think.” She put her hand to her head, rubbed her temple as if she couldn’t keep her fingers still. “I can’t think.”

“Can you describe him?”

“I never met him. I was supposed to, but I didn’t. We’ve been fighting,” she repeated as tears spilled down her cheeks.

“Tell me what you know about him.”

“Did he hurt her?” Her voice broke on the question as the tears started to gush. “Did he kill Tee?”

“We’re going to want to talk to him. Tell me what you know about him.”

“She . . . she met him at some underground club. I was supposed to go, but I got hung up, and I forgot. I was supposed to meet her there.”

“Where?” Eve prompted.

“Um . . . a cult club, underground, near Times Square, I think. I can’t remember. There are so many.” When Peabody offered tissues, Daffy sent her a pathetically grateful look. “Thanks. Thanks. She—Tee, she tagged me about eleven when I didn’t show, and we got into it because I’d forgotten, and this guy I hooked up with and I decided to zip down to South Beach for the night. I was already down there when she tagged me.”

On a long breath, she bent forward to retrieve the cup of mocha, and now sipped slowly. “Okay. Okay.” She breathed in and out. “It was my screwup, about the club, so I mea culpa’d the next day. She was all about this guy, this Prince. But she looked out of it, so I knew she’d been using.”

Daffy pressed her lips together. “I’m clean, and I’ve got to stay clean. My father still holds some of the purse strings on me, you know? If I get in any trouble like that again, he said he’d cut me off. He means it, so . . . Shit, you’re cops. I’m not going to impress you, so the straight deal is this: Besides the edict from my dad, I’ve had enough of chems.”

“But Tiara hadn’t,” Eve said.

“Tee’s always going to go over the top, it’s just her way. Always going to push the limits, then look for the next big thing.” As Daffy mopped tears, she managed a wan smile. “But she knows I’ve got to stay clean. She’d been using, and she’d sworn off six months ago, like a solidarity deal? We took an oath, so I was pissed.”

“What was she on?” Eve asked.

“I don’t know, but she was strung. We scratched at each other about that, but it was mostly her telling me how I had to go with her to this club, meet this guy and his friends. She said he was complete, the absolute. That they’d banged all night, and it was the best she’d ever had. She nagged me brainless about it until I said I’d go.”

Shaking her head, Daffy drank again. “Then later I started thinking how even if I didn’t use, she would, and I’d get busted. So I tagged her back and told her I wasn’t going, and why didn’t we hook up with this guy somewhere else. No go. His club or nowhere.”

“His club?”

“Not like he owned it. Or maybe he does. She never said; I never asked. But she got stewed because I wouldn’t go, and Carm’s in New L.A. until next month, so she couldn’t pull her instead of me.”

Eve waited while Daffy brooded into the mocha she’d so desperately wanted. “Do you know if anyone else went with her to this club? Any of your other mutual friends?”

“I don’t think so. I never heard any buzz about it, not from anyone but Tee. Anyway, we didn’t talk for a couple days, then yesterday she came by here, earlier than this even. Like just after sunrise. She looked bottomed. Pale and glassy-eyed. Using again, and she hadn’t been using before this run for that whole six months. She was still hyped, talking wild. Going to live forever, that’s what she said. Laughing and busting around. She and her prince were going to live forever, and screw me for flipping her off. I tried to get her to stay, but she wouldn’t, just told me I’d be sorry, I’d had my chance. Now he was only taking her.”

“Taking her where?” Eve asked.

“I don’t know. She wasn’t making any sense. I’m telling you, she was over. I got pissy right back at her, and we yelled at each other, then she stormed out. And now she’s dead.”

“That’s the last time you saw or spoke with her?”

“Yeah. Did he hurt her? I mean . . . you didn’t say how she, she died. Did he hurt her?”

“I can’t tell you that yet, I’m sorry.”

“She’s such a baby about pain.” Daffy swiped the back of her hand over her cheek. “I hope he didn’t hurt her. I should’ve gone to the club that night. If I’d gone to the club instead of South Beach, maybe . . . Is it my fault? I should’ve looked after her better. She got sucked into stuff so easy. Is it my fault?”

“No, it’s not your fault.”

“She was almost a year older, but I was the one who looked after her—mostly. I could pull her back from the edge when she went too far. But I didn’t, you know? I just told her she was being an idiot or whatever. Only Tee would actually believe in vampires.”

“Vampires?” Eve repeated as Peabody sucked in her breath.

“Yeah. The prince deal? The Dark Prince. Living forever. Get it?” Daffy gave a harsh laugh that choked on a sob. “She thought this guy was a frigging vampire, like for real, and he was going to make her one so she’d be immortal. That’s what the club was—a wannabe vampire club. Bloodbath! I remember now. It’s called Bloodbath. Who the hell wants to go to some club with a name like that?” She swiped at tears again. “Only Tee.”

 

 

“Didn’t I say vampire? I said vampire right off.” Peabody gave a
smug nod as they exited the building.

“And our vic’s going to be deeply disappointed when she just stays dead. Track down this club. I’d love a little chat with the Dark Prince.”

“It’s not like I believe in the undead or anything.” Peabody slid into the passenger seat. “But it wouldn’t hurt, once we find this guy, to interview him during the day. In a room with good natural lighting.”

“Sure. And requisition some garlic and some wooden stakes while you’re at it.”

“Really?”

“No.” Eve swung out into traffic. “Reach down inside yourself, Peabody, and get a grip on reality, however slippery. Find the club. Right now we’re going to visit somebody who knows all about what’s dead.”

 

 

Chief Medical Examiner Morris sent Eve an easy smile as he stood
over the naked body of Tiara Kent. He wore a snappy suit the color of good claret with a matching tie thin as straw. His dark hair was intricately braided, and curled into a loop at the nape of his neck.

Eve often thought Morris’s sharp fashion sense was wasted on his clientele.

“Running a bit behind today,” he told them. “Sent off for tox as you’d flagged that. Shouldn’t take long.”

She glanced down at the body. Morris hadn’t yet made his Y cut. “What can you tell me just from the visual?”

“Lieutenant, this woman is dead.”

“Peabody, note that down. We’ve got a dead woman.”

“With excellent breast work,” Morris added. “And some very first-class sculpting, belly and butt.”

“Jesus, she was twenty-three. Who needs sculpting and new tits at twenty-three?”

Peabody raised her hand, and got a bland look from Eve.

“You’re not twenty-three.”

“Okay, I’ve got a couple years on her, but if they’re handing out butt sculpting, I’m first in line.”

“You have a very nice butt, Detective,” Morris assured her, and made Peabody beam.

“Aw, thanks.”

“And now, back to our regularly scheduled program?” Eve suggested. “The dead woman on the slab.”

“Tiara Kent, party princess. Live fast, die young.” Morris tapped his comp screen to magnify the neck wounds. “These are the only injuries or insults to the body. The victim was exsanguinated through these two punctures in the carotid. No visible signs of physical restraint or struggle. Apparently, she lay there and let him suck her dry.”

“Suck.” Peabody drew a righteous breath through her nose. “See? Vampire bite.”

Morris’s smile spread to a grin. “Impossible not to have a little play with that, isn’t it? The beautiful young blonde, seduced by the Prince of Darkness—or one of his minions—drained of her life’s blood while in his thrall. Cue fog and shadows.”

“Don’t forget the creepy music,” Eve added.

“Of course. Mostly, however, I suspect she was drugged to the eyeballs, and was punctured by an appliance during sex.”

He lifted his eyebrows as he looked down at Tiara. “Of course, I could be wrong, and she’ll pop up shortly after sundown and terrify the night staff.”

“Let’s go with number one,” Eve decided. “If he actually bit her, appliance or not, there’s going to be saliva. Same if he didn’t use a cloak for sex. I bet even vampires have DNA.”

“I’ll send samples to the lab.”

“Guy had her convinced he could give her eternity.” Eve took one last look at Tiara Kent. “Now she gets a steel box in a cold room.”

“Got the club.” Peabody studied the readout on her PPC as they
drove toward Cop Central. “Daffy had it right about Times Square, it’s under Broadway. Got the hours, too. Sunset to sunrise.” Peabody tracked her eyes toward Eve’s profile. “Vampire hours.”

“Owner?”

“Eternity Corporation, no owner or manager listed in this data.”

“Dig,” Eve suggested.

“Digging. Are we going by the club now?”

“If the guy frequents the place, works in the place, or owns the place, he’s not going to be there when the joint’s closed. We’ll go after dark.”

“I knew you were going to say that. Aren’t you just a little bit creeped? I mean, at the very least this guy slurps blood.”

“Maybe he does, maybe he doesn’t.” Eve stopped at a light, and watched the throng bull, shuffle, and clip its way along the crosswalk. She saw a pair of transvestites in spangled skin-suits, a tourist approaching three hundred and fifty pounds in his baggy shorts—carrying a variety of cams and vids that had to weigh nearly what he did—a kid in a red cape and skullcap streaking through bodies on an airboard, and a mime.

Whatever weirdos existed, New York made them welcome. A self-proclaimed vampire would fit right in.

“She didn’t leave a full pint on the sheets,” Eve continued as the light changed. “I don’t care how hungry some pseudovampire is, no way he’s going to guzzle down more than eight pints of blood in a sitting.”

“Right. Right. Well, then what . . .”

“He took it with him.”

“I have to say eeuuw.”

“Bottled it up, bagged it up. Maybe he sells it, maybe he stores it, maybe he takes a fucking bath in it. But he came prepped for it.” She turned into the garage at Central. “So we work that. What’s a guy do with several pints of human blood? Let’s see if there’s a call for it on the black market. And we have the list and description of the jewelry missing from the scene. We’ve got the club.”

She pulled into her slot, climbed out. “We’ll see what the sweepers got for us, see if the lab can pull DNA. We’ll check like crimes, see if we got anything like this before.”

Once inside the elevator, Eve leaned back. The car smelled like cop—coffee and sweat. “Somebody saw her with this guy. She hooked up with him at the club, and somebody saw them together. She goes for thrills, gets drawn in. Starts letting him into her place, fun and games. The way it looks, he could’ve killed her any time he wanted, robbed her freaking blind. But he waited, and he only took what she either had on or had out.

“He’s picky, and he likes the ritual, likes the seduction.”

Eve stepped off the car to switch to the glides before the elevator got crowded. “Go ahead and write up what we’ve got, keep looking for a name to go with the club. I’m going to try to get a session in with Mira, get a better idea of what we’ll be dealing with when we take ourselves a Bloodbath.”

“I’ll bring the rubber ducky.”

Eve peeled off in the bullpen, headed for her office. As she expected, her ’link was loaded with calls from the media. A paparazzi darling ends up dead, it’s a ratings bonanza, she thought, and ruthlessly forwarded all of the calls to the media liaison.

She tried for Mira first and ran headfirst into Mira’s admin—the guardian at the doctor’s gate. “Okay, okay. Jesus. Just tell her I’d like five whenever she can spare it. Here, there, in adjoining stalls in the john. Just five.”

Eve disconnected, got coffee from her AutoChef. She set up her murder board, wrote up her notes, studied the time line.

Walked right in, that’s what he did. She practically showered his path with rose petals. More money than brains.

Did he mark her first, or was it just chance she walked into the club one night? A recognizable face that liked to dance on the wild side. Known more for her exploits than her smarts.