Savannah."
"Detective."
"I've only been with the four-two for a couple of weeks, but I've already heard of you, Lieutenant."
She had a voice like melted butter and eyes of drowning blue. "Nice meeting you."
"Sure. My partner, Detective Peabody."
"Welcome to New York."
"Sure is different from home. Well, I've got to get along. Appreciate the time, Dr. Morris, and the Coke." She held up the tube from Vending, batted those lashes again, then sort of glided down the hall of death.
"Magnolia blossom." Morris sighed. "In full bloom."
"You must be full up, sucking all that nectar."
"Just a little taste. Usually I steer clear of cops, in that area. But I may have to make an exception."
"Just because I'm not going to bat my lashes at you doesn't mean you can't buy me a drink."
He grinned at her. "Coffee?"
"I want to live, and the coffee here's poison. Pepsi, and the same for my pal, who will also not be batting lashes at you. Only the I'm-forever-on-a-diet variety for Peabody."
He ordered two tubes. "Her first name's Amaryllis."
"Oh, Christ."
"Ammy for short."
"You're making me sick, Morris."
He tossed her a tube, passed the second to Peabody. "Let's go see your dead guy. That'll make you feel better."
He led the way. He wore a suit the color of walnuts, with a dull gold shirt. His dark hair was pulled back into two queues, one stacked on the other and twined with gold cord.
Snappy was Morris's style of dress, and it suited his sharp face and avid eyes.
They passed through the doors into Holding, where Morris walked to the bank of drawers. There was a puff of vapor as he unlocked one.
"Dr. Wilfred B. Icove, aka Icon. He was a brilliant man."
"You knew him?"
"Reputation only. I attended some of his lectures over the years. Fascinating. As you can see, we have a male, approximately eighty years of age. Excellent muscle tone. The single wound punctured the aorta. Common surgical scalpel."
He moved over to Imaging and flipped on a screen to show her the wound and surrounding area magnified. "One jab, bull's-eye. No defensive wounds. Tox screen clear of illegals. Basic vitamins and health meds. Last meal, consumed approximately five hours before death, consisted of a whole-wheat muffin, four ounces of orange juice-the real deal-rose hip tea, some banana, and some raspberries. Your vic was a fan of his field of practice and has had superlative work done, face and body. Muscle tone indicates he believed in working for his health and youthful appearance."
"How long did it take him to die?"
"A minute or two, though essentially he was dead instantly."
"Even with something as sharp as the scalpel, it would take a good solid jab to pierce through the suit, the shirt, flesh, and into the heart- not to mention accuracy."
"Correct. Whoever did this was up close and personal, and knew what they were doing."
"Okay. Sweepers got nothing on-scene. Frigging place is hydro-cleaned nightly. No prints on the weapon. It was coated." Idly, Eve drummed her fingers on her thighs while she studied the body. "I watched her walk through the building-security discs. She never touched a thing. They don't do audio, so no shot at a voice print. Her ID's bogus. Feeney's running her image through IRCCA, but since I haven't heard from him, I'd say he's not having any luck so far."
"Smooth operator."
"She's that. Thanks for the drink, Morris." To make him laugh, she batted her eyes.
"What kind of name is Amaryllis?" Eve demanded when she and Peabody were back in the car.
"Floral. You're jealous."
"I'm what?"
"You and Morris have a thing. Most of us have a little thing for Morris, who is oddly sexy. But the two of you have a special thing, and here comes Southern Belle Barbie getting him worked up."
"I don't have a thing for Morris. We're friendly associates. And her name was Amaryllis, not Barbie."
"The doll, Dallas. You know, Barbie doll. Jeez, didn't you ever have dollies?"
"Dolls are like small dead people. I have enough dead