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The manager swiped the card with an angry jerk of the wrist.“When will the room be unsealed, and Ms. Harris’s belongings removed?”
“Her belongings will be taken into evidence later today. The room will be unsealed when I’m satisfied there’s nothing in said room that pertains to my investigation. You’ll be notified. Until then—” Eve opened the door, waiting until Peabody went in, then turned and shut the door in the manager’s face.
“I don’t think she likes you.”
“Oh, come on. I was really warming up to her.”
Eve set her hands on her hips, looked around. They’d come into a parlor, one with plenty of space, color, and fancy touches.
A plush sofa in rich, textured gold curved against a wall covered with mirrors of varying sizes and shapes. Flanking it were tables topped with tall lamps shaped like peacocks. Chairs of peacock blue faced the sofa over the expanse of a boldly patterned rug. Another set of chairs, smaller in scale, circled a table by the window with its view of downtown. A small bowl of fruit centered on the table.
An enameled cabinet—peacocks again—spread over another wall.
Curious, Eve opened it to find an entertainment screen, a bar, fully stocked, and an impressive library of vid and book discs.
“Nice,” Peabody said. “And there’s a little kitchen through here. AutoChef, full-size fridge, dishwasher, glassware, dishes. Everything’s clean, shiny, and tidy.”
“They’d have done their evening service before we sealed the room. Little powder room here, and the end of the tp roll’s folded in a point—a sure sign nobody used the john since housekeeping was in.”
“I like when they do that. My aunt used to do it when I’d stay at her place. And she’d leave a piece of her homemade candy on the pillow.”
Eve walked into the bedroom. “Maybe your aunt’s been here.” She glanced at the gold-foiled chocolate, the neatly folded coverlet. The basket on it held slippers, a folded robe with the hotel’s logo, and a printed card wishing Ms. Harris sweet dreams.
Eve sometimes wondered if the dead dreamed, wherever they went, wherever they waited. But she doubted the murdered dead’s dreams were sweet.
“What do you see, Peabody?”
“Lots of pillows, good linens, good service. It’s a mag layout for reading or watching some screen in bed. And it’s quiet. Good soundproofing. You can hardly hear New York.”
“What don’t you see?”
“Clutter. No clothes or shoes, no personal debris. No personal anything,” Peabody realized. “No pictures or mementos. She’d have stayed here for weeks. Months really. And there’s nothing of her out here. Or in the parlor.”
“Exactly. Nothing to make it feel like home. She must have liked being in a hotel. The service, again, the lack of the personal. Comfortable, spacious, well-appointed, and anonymous.”
Eve opened a closet. “Plenty of clothes. Stylish, designer—even the casual stuff. Laundry hamper—it’s empty. She must have used their valet service. Let’s find out when they picked up her laundry, get a list. Get it back.”
“You got it.”
Eve stepped into the master bath. Oversized jet tub, separate multihead shower, drying tube—pounds of thick white towels for those who preferred them.
The long gold counter boasted wide double sinks, a tray of full-sized hotel amenities.
“Kept her face and hair gunk in drawers,” Eve said after opening a few. “Your basic stuff, too. Tooth stuff, deodorant, blockers, mild tranq—prescription. Most people tend to leave something out on the counter, right? Hairbrush, toothbrush, something. But she keeps it all closed up in drawers. Don’t look at my stuff. Mine, mine, mine.”
“Maybe she was just really tidy and organized.”
“It’s not put away tidy and organized. It’s jumbled some. Put it away, shut the drawer. It’s all anonymous again. Start on the drawers,” Eve decided. “I’ll take the closet. Full-out search.”
Valet service, definitely, Eve thought. Everything was hung perfectly, and in order by type, by color within type. Shoes, and plenty of them, stood on the shelves running along the side wall. Handbags nestled in cubbies, with one hanging on a hook.
Current day bag, Eve concluded, and from the weight, the vic liked to carry half her life with her. Eve hauled it out, dumped it on the bed.
“Jesus, who needs all this stuff? And this is what she carried in addition to what she had in her evening bag last night.”
“Some people like to be prepared for anything.”
“Like famine, pestilence, alien invasion?”
