Mortified, Eve shoved the cuff under the sleeve of her jacket. She’d forgotten she was wearing the bracelet. “Maybe we could concentrate on the scene of the crime rather than my accessories.”
“Sure, but that is some ultimate accessory. Is that big fat red stone a ruby?”
“Peabody.”
“Okay, okay.” But she was going to get a closer look, when Dallas wasn’t paying attention. “Where were you?”
“Just playing around with evidence, amusing myself at a crime scene.”
Peabody rolled her eyes. “Jeez, beat me with a stick.”
“First chance,” Eve agreed. “To continue. The suspect claims that she brought a stunner with her, a reconfigured one that meets civilian licensee requirements. This is not a reconfigured stunner, but a military issue with full capabilities.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Succinct, as always.”
“That’s inscrutable detective-speak.”
“Said weapon, which I’ve already tested for prints, has suspect’s, and only suspect’s prints, all over it. As does the murder weapon.” Eve gestured to another sealed bag, and the bloody knife within. “The carry bag over there holds electronic jammers and burglar tools, also loaded with Reva Ewing’s prints.”
“Is she security savvy?”
“Works in that capacity for Roarke Enterprises, and is a former member of the Secret Service.”
“From the setup, it appears that the suspect broke in, found her husband noodling strange, and hacked away.”
But she moved closer to the bed, the bodies. “No defensive wounds on either vic, no signs of struggle. Somebody starts hacking away, most people tend to object, at least a little.”
“Hard to when you’re stunned first.”
With a fingertip, Eve indicated the small red dots between Blair’s shoulder blades, the matching ones between Felicity’s breasts.
“Him on the back, her on the front,” Peabody noted.
“Yeah. I’d say they were in the middle of noodling strange. Killer walks in behind, zaps him first, shoves him aside and zaps her before she can more than peep. They were unconscious, or at least incapacitated when the hacking began.”
“Serious overkill,” Peabody commented. “There must be a dozen wounds on each of them.”
“Eighteen for him, fourteen for her.”
“Ouch.”
“I’ll say. No heart wounds, which is interesting. Makes more blood if you don’t hit the heart.”
She studied the way it spread over the sheets, the light spatter on the shade of the lamp beside the bed. Nasty work, she thought. Very nasty, very messy.
“Also interesting that none of the holes in them struck the points where the stunner left the burn marks. Suspect has some blood on her clothes—not much, considering, but some. Hands and arms are clean.”
“She’d have to wash up after something like this.”
“You’d think. You’d think if she did, she’d have gotten rid of the shirt, too. But people dumb down a lot of times after they hack a couple people to death.”
“Her mother’s here,” Peabody pointed out.
“Yeah. So maybe her mother washed her up some, but Caro strikes me as more careful than that. Time of death is one-twelve A.M. We’ll have EDD check the security, see if we can determine when she bypassed and entered. I need you to check the kitchen, see if the murder weapon came from the premises, or if it was brought on scene.”
She paused a moment. “You see what’s left of the leather bomber jacket on the floor down there?”