Immortal in Death by J. D. Robb

angry finger-paints.
    “Don’t touch anything,” she snapped at Roarke, out of reflex. “Mavis?” She took two steps forward, then stopped as one of the billowing curtains of shimmery cloth rippled. Mavis moved passed it, stood swaying.
    “Dallas. Dallas. Thank God.”
    “Okay. It’s okay.” The minute Eve caught her close, the relief poured. The blood wasn’t Mavis’s, though it was spotted on her clothes, on her hands. “You’re hurt. How bad?”
    “I’m dizzy, sick. My head.”
    “Let her sit down, Eve.” Taking Mavis’s arm, Roarke led her to a chair. “Come on, darling, sit down. That’s the way. She’s in shock, Eve. Get her a blanket. Put your head back, Mavis. That’s a girl. Close your eyes and just breathe for a while.”
    “It’s cold.”
    “I know.” He reached down, flipped up a ragged piece of glistening satin, and draped it over her. “Deep breaths, Mavis. Slow, deep breaths.” He flicked a glance up at Eve. “She needs attention.”
    “I can’t call the MTs before I know what the situation is. Do what you can for her.” All too aware of what she was likely to find, Eve moved past the curtain.
    She’d died badly. It was the hair that confirmed to Eve who the woman had once been. The glorious curling flame of it. Her face, with its stunning, almost eerie perfection, was all but gone, mashed and mangled under cruel, repeated blows.
    The weapon was still there, carelessly tossed aside. Eve supposed it was intended to be some sort of fancy cane or walking stick, a fashionable affectation. Under the blood and gore it was a glossy silver, perhaps an inch thick with an ornate handle in the shape of a grinning wolf.
    She’d seen it, tipped into a corner of Leonardo’s work space, only two days before.
    It was not necessary to check Pandora’s pulse, but Eve did so. Then she stepped back carefully so as not to contaminate the scene any further.
    “Christ,” Roarke murmured from behind her, then laid both hands on her shoulders. “What are you going to do?”
    “Whatever I have to. Mavis wouldn’t have done this.”
    He turned her to face him. “You don’t have to tell me that. She needs you, Eve. She needs a friend, and she’s going to need a good cop.”
    “I know.”
    “It’s not going to be easy on you being both.”
    “I’d better get started.” She walked back to where Mavis sat. Her face was like softened wax, the bruise and the scratches livid against the bone-white skin. Eve crouched down and took Mavis’s icy hands in hers. “I need you to tell me everything. Take your time, but tell it all.”
    “She wasn’t moving. There was all the blood, and the way her face looked. And — and she wasn’t moving.”
    “Mavis.” Eve gave the hands one quick, hard squeeze. “Look at me. Tell me exactly what happened from the time you got here.”
    “I came… I wanted… I thought I should talk to Leonardo.” She shivered, plucked at the scrap of material covering her with hands still stained with blood. “He was upset when he went to the club the last time looking for me. He even threatened the bouncer, and that’s not like him. I didn’t want him to ruin his career, so I thought I could talk to him. I came, and someone had broken the security unit, so I just came on up. The door wasn’t locked. Sometimes he forgets,” she murmured and trailed off.
    “Mavis, was Leonardo here?”
    “Leonardo?” Dulled with shock, her eyes scanned the room. “No, I don’t think so. I called out, because I saw there was such a mess. Nobody answered. And there — there was blood. I saw blood. So much blood. I was afraid, Dallas, afraid that maybe he’d killed himself or something crazy, and so I ran back into… back. I saw her. I think… I went over. I think I did because I was kneeling beside her and I was trying to scream. I couldn’t scream. It was all in my head that I was screaming, and I couldn’t stop. And then I think something hit me. I think…” Vaguely she