Peabody stood by her, assisting a uniform in the erecting of a privacy screen.
"Officer Peabody." Eve said it softly, waited for Peabody to turn, straighten her shoulders, and cross to her. "Your report?"
"I followed the subject to her residence, as per your orders, Lieutenant. I watched her enter the building, and subsequently observed the light go on in the second window from the east, third floor. On my own initiative, I decided to keep watch for a period of fifteen minutes, to insure the subject remained inside. She did not."
Peabody trailed off, and her gaze shifted to the body. Eve sidestepped, blocked the view. "Look at me when you report, Officer."
"Yes, sir." Peabody snapped back. "Subject exited building approximately ten minutes later. She appeared agitated, continually looked over her shoulder as she walked west at a rapid pace. She appeared to be crying. I maintained the standard distance. That's why I couldn't stop her." Peabody had to suck in air. "I maintained the standard distance."
"Stop it." Eve snapped it out, gave Peabody a quick shake. "Complete your report."
Peabody's eyes went flat and cold as they met Eve's. "Yes, sir. The subject stopped suddenly, took several steps in retreat. She spoke. I was too far away to discern what she said, but it was my impression that she was speaking to someone."
She played it back through her mind, every step, leaning on her training like a crutch. "I closed the distance somewhat, in the event the subject was in jeopardy. I observed no one on the street other than the subject herself. The fog may have been a factor, but there was no one on the sidewalk or the street that I could see."
"She stood there, talking to no one?" Eve asked.
"That's how it appeared, Lieutenant. She became increasingly agitated. She begged to be left alone. Her words were, 'Haven't you done enough, haven't you taken enough? Why won't you leave me in peace.' "
Peabody stared back at the sidewalk, saw it all again. Heard it as well. That hitch of desperation and despair in Alice's voice. "I thought I heard a response, but can't be definite. The subject was speaking too loudly and too rapidly for me to make a clear statement on that. I decided to move closer, to make myself known."
A muscle in her jaw jumped as she continued to stare over Eve's shoulder. "At this time, a Rapid Cab, traveling east, approached. The subject turned and ran into the street, directly into the path of the oncoming vehicle. The driver attempted to stop and evade, but was unable to do so and struck the subject head-on."
She paused just long enough to take another breath. "Road conditions were fair to poor, and played a minor factor. Even with optimum conditions, it would be my opinion the driver would have been unable to avoid the collision."
"Understood. Continue."
"I reached the body within seconds, and though I observed that she was already dead, I called for the medical technicians, then attempted to contact you via your communicator. When this was unsuccessful, I utilized the porta-link in my bag and reached you at home to report the situation. Following your orders, I relayed to Dispatch and requested a uniform, then secured the scene."
It was hell to be too late, Eve knew, and no amount of sympathy could ease that bitter guilt. So she offered none. "Very well, Officer. That's the driver?"
Peabody continued to stare straight ahead, and her voice was hollow. "Yes, Lieutenant."
"Arrange for his vehicle to be taken in for analysis, then consult with the MTS and find out if he's in shape to give a statement."
"Yes, sir." Peabody clutched her hand into a fist at her side. She kept her voice low, but it vibrated with emotion. "You had a drink with her barely an hour ago. And it doesn't mean a damn to you."
Eve took the hit and waited until Peabody turned away before she walked back to Alice. "Yes, it does," she murmured. "And that's the problem."
Opening her field kit, she crouched down to do her job.
– =O=-***-=O=-
It wasn't homicide. Technically, Eve should have turned the matter over to Traffic after Peabody's report and the ensuing statement from the weeping cabbie. But she watched Alice's body being loaded into the morgue wagon and knew she had no intention of doing so.
She took a last look at the scene. The rain had nearly stopped and wouldn't wash away the blood. The few gawkers who had gathered were already breaking up and moving along, tearing the last thin curtains of fog as they shuffled home.
Across at the curb, a city tow unit was already hitching up the damaged cab for transferral to the police compound.
Accidents, some would say, happened all too often. And so, Eve thought, did murder. All too often.
"You've had a long night, Peabody. You're off duty."
"I would prefer to stay on, Lieutenant, and see this through."
"You won't help her or me unless you can see it through objectively."
"I can do my job, sir. My feelings are my own business."
Eve hitched up her field kit, took a long look at her aide. "Yes, they are. Just don't let them get in my way." She took her recorder out of her kit, held it out to Peabody. "On record, Officer. We'll examine the subject's residence."
"Do you intend to notify the next of kin? Sir?''
"When we're done here."
They headed east, back to Alice's building. She hadn't gotten far, Eve thought, barely a block. What had driven her back out? And what had driven her into the path of the cab?
The building was a pretty, restored brownstone of three stories. The entrance doors sported beveled glass with an etched design of peacocks. The security camera was in full repair, and the locks coded for palm prints. Eve disarmed them with a master code and entered a small, well-scrubbed foyer with faux marble floors. The elevator had a mirrored bronze sheen and ran with silent efficiency.
Alice, she thought, had had taste and the financial resources to indulge it. There were three apartments on the third floor, and again Eve used her master to gain entrance.
"Dallas, Lieutenant Eve, and aide, Peabody, Officer D., entering residence of deceased for standard examination. Lights," she ordered, then frowned when the room remained dark.
Peabody reached around the door, flicked a switch. "She must have preferred manual to voice-activated."
The room was cluttered and colorful. Pretty scarves and throws were draped over chairs, tables. Tapestries depicting attractive naked people and mythological animals romped over the walls. Candles were everywhere, on tables, on shelves, on the floor, as were bowls of colored stones, of herbs, of dried flower petals. Chunks and wands of crystal, sparkling clean, crowded every flat surface.
A mood screen was engaged and showed a wide field of meadow grass and wildflowers blowing gently in the breeze. Its audio played the song of birds and zephyrs.
"She liked pretty things," Eve observed. "And lots of them." Moving over, she glanced at the controls of the mood screen and nodded as they corroborated her thought. "She flipped this on as soon as she walked in. Wanted to mellow out, I'd say."
Leaving Peabody to follow, she walked into the adjoining room. The bedroom was small, cozy, and again cluttered. The spread on the narrow bed was embroidered with stars and moons. A glass mobile, dancing with fairies, hung above it and even now clinked musically in the breeze through the open window.
"This would have been the window, the light you saw come on."
"Yes, sir."
"So she flipped on the screen, then came straight into the bedroom. Probably wanted to change, get out of the damp dress. But she didn't." Eve stepped on to a small area rug with the face of a smiling sun. "It's cluttered, but tidy in its way. No sign of disturbance or struggle."
"Struggle?"
"You said she was agitated, crying when she came back out. The country meadow program didn't mellow her, or didn't have enough time to."