In Death 18 - Divided in Death

strong red. There were ornamental trees and shrubs growing out of large pots and several odd metal sculptures she attributed to Blair Bissel.
    But it struck her as cold, and more pretentious than gingerbread and gilt.
    “Ewing knows her security,” Peabody commented after they’d dealt with the layers of it just to get through the riot wall. “Fancy digs, too, if you go for this kind of thing.”
    “You don’t?”
    “Uh-uh.” Peabody grimaced as they walked over the red stone lawn. “This kind of design makes me think of a prison, and I can’t quite figure out if it keeps people in, or keeps them out. And the art.”
    She stopped to study a squat metal shape with eight spindly legs and an elongated triangular head, lined with sparkling teeth.
    “We’ve got a lot of artists in the family,” Peabody went on. “A couple who work primarily in metals, and some of the stuff’s odd. But it’s . . . interesting odd and usually kind of fun or poignant.”
    “Poignant metal.”
    “Yeah, really. But this, I guess it’s a cross between a watchdog and a spider. It’s creepy, and a little mean. And what about that?”
    She pointed to another sculpture. This, Eve saw when she wandered closer, was of two figures, closely entwined. Male and female, which was obvious when you saw the exaggerated length of the penis painted royal purple. It was honed to a knifepoint at the end, and an inch away from penetrating the female figure.
    She was, Eve noted, bowed back in either passion or terror, the long gleaming tendrils of her hair streaming back.
    They were faceless, just form and feeling. And after a moment she decided that feeling wasn’t romantic, or even sexual. It was violent.
    “I’d say he was probably talented, and even talent can be sick.”
    Because it made her uncomfortable, she turned away from the figures and approached the door. Even with the codes and clearance Reva had provided, it took some time and some trouble to access entry.
    The door opened into a kind of atrium with tinted sky windows three floors up, and slick ocean-blue tiles for the floor.
    There was a fountain in the center of the space, burbling as the half man, half fish figures that circled it vomited violently into the pool.
    The walls were mirrored, tossing back their reflections dozens of times. Rooms fanned off from this center, through wide, doorless rectangles.
    “This doesn’t fit her,” Eve said. “I’d say he picked the place and the decor, and she went along.”
    Peabody looked up, studied the nightmarish bird sculptures hanging high in the air. They looked like they were circling over a meal. “Would you?”
    “I don’t fit where I live either.”
    “That’s not true.”
    Eve shrugged, cautiously circled the fountain. “I didn’t when I moved into it. Okay, it’s not like this. It’s beautiful, and it’s livable, and it’s, well, it’s warm. But it was Roarke’s place. It’s still more his than mine, and that’s okay.”
    “She really loved him.” The place gave Peabody the creeps, which she didn’t bother to hide. “If she could live here because he wanted it, she had to really love him.”
    “That’s my take,” Eve agreed.
    “I’ll find the kitchen, verify the murder weapon was taken from here.”
    Eve nodded, and using the blueprint Reva had drawn for her, started upstairs.
    She’d been sleeping, Eve thought. Heard the gate bell. Got up, checked the security screen. Saw the package.
    She paused by a sheer window that looked down over a stone-and-metal garden. Nothing living, she mused. Nothing real.
    Got up, she continued, went down and out to retrieve the package. Took a scanner, checked the contents for explosives. Careful, cautious woman.
    Brought the package back inside.
    Eve entered the master bedroom and saw the first signs of life in the house. There were more mirrors, silvery panels of them on one wall, more forming a double door. The bed, wide as a canyon, was unmade, with a nightshirt tossed into a tangle over in one corner. One closet door was open—Reva’s closet, Eve noted after a glance.
    She’d opened the package, sat on the bed when her legs gave out from under her, Eve imagined. Looked at the photographs again and again while her brain tried to compute the meaning. Studied the receipts. Went to the data center across the room, loaded the discs.
    Some pacing, Eve was sure. That’s what she’d’ve done. Paced, cursed, shed a few tears of rage. Tossed something