Ceremony in Death - J. D. Robb [28]
The doors opened into a spacious foyer with floors of black marble. Twin red velvet settees flanked an archway and boasted carved arms of snarling wolves. A floral arrangement speared out of a pot shaped like a boar’s head.
“Wolfbane,” Peabody said quietly, “belladonna, foxglove, skullcap, peyote.” She shrugged at Eve’s considering look. “My mother’s an amateur botanist. I can tell you that’s not your usual flower arrangement.”
“But the usual is so tedious, isn’t it?”
They got their first face-to-face look at Selina Cross exactly as she wanted to be seen. Flanked by the archway in a snug black dress that brushed the floor, her feet bare with the toenails painted a violent red, she posed. And smiled.
Her skin was vampire white, the slash of red over her full lips glossy as fresh blood. Her eyes glittered green and feline in a narrow, undoubtedly witchlike face that wasn’t beautiful, but was eerily compelling. Her hair fell, black against black, from that rigid center part, to her waist.
The hand she gestured with held rings on every finger and her thumb. A silver chain was attached to each and twisted into an intricate mesh over the back of her hand.
“Lieutenant Dallas and Officer Peabody, isn’t it? What interesting visitors on such a dull day. Will you come in…to my parlor?”
“Are you alone, Ms. Cross? It would simplify this if we could speak with Mr. Alban as well.”
“Oh, what a shame.” She turned, silks whispering, and slipped through the arch. “Alban’s busy this morning. Sit down.” She gestured again, encompassing a generous room crowded with furniture. Every seat boasted the heads or claws or beaks of some predator. “Can I offer you something?”
“We’ll skip the refreshments.” Considering it apt, Eve chose a chair with the arms of a hound.
“Not even coffee? That is your drink, isn’t it?” Then she shrugged, slicked a fingertip over the pentagram above her eyebrow. “But suit yourself.” With that same studied skill, she lowered to a curved settee that stood on cloven feet and draped her long arms over the back. “Now, what can I do for you?”
“Alice Lingstrom was killed early this morning.”
“Yes, I know.” She continued to smile pleasantly, as though discussing the nice run of weather. “I could tell you I witnessed the…accident through my scrying mirror, but I doubt you’d believe that. Of course, I’m not one to disdain technology and often watch the news and other forms of entertainment on-screen. The information’s been public for hours.”
“You knew her.”
“Of course; she was a pupil of mine for a time. A dissatisfactory one as it turned out. Alice complained to you about my tutelage.” It wasn’t formed as a question, but she waited, as if for an answer.
“If you mean she reported to me that she was drugged, sexually abused, and was a witness to an atrocity, then yes, she complained.”
“Drugs, sex, and atrocities.” Selina let out a low, purring laugh. “What an imagination our little Alice had. A shame she couldn’t use it to broaden her vision. How is your imagination, Lieutenant Dallas?” She flicked the hand gloved with mesh. In the small marble fireplace, flames burst to life.
Peabody jolted, didn’t manage to muffle a yelp, but neither woman acknowledged her. They continued to stare, unblinking at each other.
“Or may I call you Eve?”
“No. You can call me Lieutenant Dallas. It’s a little warm for a fire, don’t you think? And a bit early in the day for parlor tricks.”
“I like it warm. You have excellent nerves, Lieutenant.”
“I also have low tolerance for grifters and dealers and child killers.”
“Am I all of that?” Selina tapped her sharp red nails on the back of the settee, her only outward sign of annoyance in Eve’s lack of response. “Prove it.”
“I will. Where were you last night between the hours of one and three A.M.?”
“I was here, in my ritual room, with Alban and a young initiate we call Lobar. We were engaged in a private sexual ceremony from midnight until nearly dawn. Lobar is young and…enthusiastic.”
“I’ll want to talk to them both.”