In Death 17 - Imitation in Death

fantastic. Call me Carmichael."
     
     
He lowered smoothly to a peach-colored cushion and took the little cat into his lap. "There now, Snowdrop, did you think Daddy had forgotten you?"
     
     
She didn't want to sit on one of the cushions, nor did she want to remain, standing and towering over him. So she sat on the table.
     
     
"Can you tell me where you were, early yesterday morning, between midnight and three A.M?"
     
     
Like the cat, he blinked. "Well, that sounds very official. Is there some problem?"
     
     
"Yes, the murder of a woman in Chinatown." " "I don't understand. Such negative energy." He breathed deep. "We try to keep a positive flow in this house."
     
     
"Yeah, I'm sure Jacie Wooton found being sliced up a pretty negative experience. Can you verify your whereabouts, Mr. Smith?"
     
     
"Li," he said as the black woman in flowing white streamed in. "Do I know anyone named Jacie Wooton?"
     
     
"No.
     
     
"Do we know where I was night before last, between midnight and three?"
     
     
"Yes, of course." She poured pale gold tea from a pale blue pot into pale blue cups. "You were attending the dinner party hosted by the Rislings until ten. You escorted Ms. Hubble home, had a nightcap with her in, her apartment,'and returned here about midnight. You spent twenty minutes in your isolation tank to eliminate any negativity before retiring. You were in bed by one-thirty, and had your usual wake-up call at eight the following morning."
     
     
'Thank you." He picked up the teacup she'd set on the table. "It's difficult for me to keep all those details in my head. I'd be lost without Li."
     
     
"I'd like the names and addresses of the people you were with, to verify this information."
     
     
"I'm feeling very unsettled about this."
     
     
"It's routine, Mr. Smith. When I confirm your alibi, I can move on."
     
     
"Li will provide you with anything you need." He made a gesture with his hand. "It's important to my well-being, to my work, to keep my senses stimulated by the positive, by love and by beauty."
     
     
"Right. You have a standing order from Whittier's in London for a certain type of stationery. Your last purchase of it was four months ago."
     
     
"No. I never purchase anything. I can't go. into shops, you see. My fans are so enthusiastic. I have things brought in to me, or Li, or one of my staff goes into the shops. I do enjoy good stationery. I feel it's important to send personal notes, on good paper, to friends or those who've made some contribution."
     
     
"Cream-colored, heavy-eight bond. Unrecycled."
     
     
"Unrecycled?" He ducked his head, smiling into, his cup like a small boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "I'm ashamed to say I have been using something like that. Not very green of me, but it's gorgeous paper. Li, does my writing paper come from London?"
     
     
"I can check."
     
     
"She'll check."
     
     
"Fine. I'd like a sample of it, too, if you don't mind, and the names of any staff members who were authorized to make purchases for you in London."
     
     
"I'll take care of that." Li glided out again.
     
     
"I don't quite understand how my writing paper could interest you."
     
     
"There was a note, written on that style of paper, left with the body."
     
     
"Please." He lifted both hands, drawing them up his own body as he breathed in, pushing them outward as he exhaled. "I don't want that sort of image corrupting my senses. That's why I listen only to my own music. I never watch the media reports, except for specially selected features on entertainment or society. There's too much darkness in the world. Too much despair."
     
     
"Tell me about it."
     
     
When Eve left, she had a sample of his writing paper, and the names of his staffers in London.
     
     
"He's weird," Peabody commented. "But he's built. And he just doesn't seem like the type who'd go hunting LCs."
     
     
"He likes to have multi-partner sex, occasionally with minors." "Oh." Peabody wrinkled her nose as she glanced back toward the house. "So much for my instincts on this one."
     
     
"Maybe he figures underage groupies have less negativity, sexually speaking, than any grown woman who could listen to that crap he plays and, not run screaming after five minutes."
     
     
She got into the car, slammed the door. "If, that stinking `Love Lights the World' sticks in my head; I'm coming back here and beating him with a club."
     
     
"Now that's positive," Peabody