In Death 30 - Fantasy in Death

from walking home in the rain. But he didn’t. Security logs at the entrance show him wearing the same pair he died in.”
    “Young,” Roarke commented, “eager to play. Not much thought about damp shoes.”
    “Yeah.” She shook her head as they started up. “Maybe someone was already here. Maybe he let someone in after the shutdown, before he went up.”
    “Someone he knew and trusted,” Roarke prompted.
    “No sign of struggle, no defensive wounds except for arm gash, no chemicals in his system, no evidence of restraints. Maybe they freaking hypnotized him, but otherwise, he went into the holo-room with his killer.”
    “A playmate.”
    “Not a pint-sized one. Neither of those Sing kids could cover this.”
    “So you can write them off.”
    “If they’d been here and there’d been an accident, they’d have spilled it.” She thought of those dark, liquid eyes again. The simplicity, the innocence. “The younger one spilled about the fizzies. You could say, Gee, that’s cute, but what it is, under it, is honest. Still, possibly an accident with someone not as simple or honest as a couple of kids.”
    “They’re a lovely family.”
    Her gaze tracked as they continued on, as she looked for anything out of place, anything she might have missed before. “I don’t know why it always surprises me to see that sort of thing. Maybe I don’t generally interview lovely families. Steady ones. My impression is Bart came from the same. Maybe it’s a disadvantage in its own way.”
    “What way would that be?”
    “You can end up too simple and too trusting.” She glanced at him. “That’s sure not our problem.”
    “The cop and the criminal?” He laid a stroke down her back. “I’d wager there’s a good many of those from steady families as well. Is that what worries you, Eve, about starting one of our own? Not time yet,” he added, helplessly amused by the quick panic in those canny cop’s eyes. “But when it is, is that your worry? We’ll either raise cops, criminals, or the too trusting?”
    “I don’t have a clue. But just a for instance, who’ll remember to say, ‘No more fizzies’? What if I want one? Or no pizza for dinner again, when come on, why the hell not? It’s another endless set of rules to learn. I haven’t worked my way through the marriage rules yet.”
    “And yet, here we are.” He lowered his head to kiss her lightly. “I think there’s a lot of on-the-job training involved in raising children.”
    “That’s fine when it’s consenting adults, but it ought to be a lot more solid when there’s one of those little squirmy things involved, like Mavis’s Bella. Anyway . . .” She’d let herself become distracted, and Bart deserved better.
    “He goes in, alone or with a playmate. Alone doesn’t make sense. His pocket ’link was still on him, and shut off—downtime corresponds to the holo-log entry. He came in, shut down his coms so he wouldn’t be disturbed. Or someone shut them down for him. But alone would mean someone came in after him, which means that person or persons circumvented the security not only on the building, but the apartment and this room.”
    Blowing out a breath, she shook her head. “It’s too much work, too much trouble. If you’re that good, you minimize the risks.”
    “And come in with him.”
    “He had to have company in here. Maybe he’d planned it that way, though there’s nothing on any of his ’links or comps to show he intended to meet anyone. An impulse. Someone from work, from the building, someone he ran into on the way home. And still an outsider had to get by the doorman unless they came in earlier or accessed another opening in the building. Delivery entrance, roof, an empty apartment. We know at least one apartment’s vacant with the Trevors on vacation. Probably others, or others just empty during the day.”
    “They’d have to expect Bart to come home in order to cross paths.”
    “Exactly,” she agreed. “Which goes right back to someone from U-Play. All it takes is one tag. He’s on his way. Get in, arrange to run into him—knock on the door a couple minutes after he’s inside. Time to have him shut down the droid so he’s got everything set for game time. ‘Hey, how’s it going—I was just in the neighborhood, thought I saw you come in.’ Bart’s all whistling-a-tune happy, excited. He’s nearly ready to launch his baby, just wants to play with it first, fine-tune. Here’s someone he knows.