Imitation in Death

  “No. Some guy she met in school earlier this summer. I don’t know his name. One of my girls might.” He took out a handkerchief, blew his nose. “We pushed her to drop her summer classes, because of those kids that were killed. Those college kids a few weeks ago. She knew one of them, the first one, so it upset her. Upset all of us. I got her that mugger spray, told her to keep it in her pocket. She did. She’s a good girl.”

  “And she used it. That means she’s smart and she’s tough. She drove him off, Mr. Waterman.”

  “The doctors won’t tell us.” Eve turned as a woman spoke behind her. She’d come to the door and stood there, leaning on the opening as if she couldn’t bear her own weight. “They won’t say, but I could see what they thought. That’s my baby they’ve got in there. My baby, and they think she’ll die. But they’re wrong.”

  “She’s going to be fine, Sela.” Waterman pulled her into his arms, held her tight. “Marley’s going to be just fine.”

  “Mrs. Cox, is there anything you can tell me that will help?”

  “She’ll tell you herself, when she wakes up.” Sela’s voice was stronger than her brother’s, and absolutely sure. “Then you’ll go after him, and you’ll lock him up. When you do, I’m going to come in, and look right at his face and tell him it was my girl, it was my baby who put him there.”

  Dallas left them alone, found a corner, a cup of coffee, and waited until Peabody returned and sat down beside her.

  “No luck on the rental yet, but McNab and Feeney are on it.”

  “Smart. Careful,” Eve commented. “Rents it via computer with a bogus name and license number, and pays to have it delivered to the bogus address. Nobody sees him. He seals up, so we’ve got no prints, no hair, no nothing inside the van except the wig he ditched and the pieces of plaster.”

  “Maybe some of the blood on-scene will turn out to be his.”

  Eve only shook her head. “He’s too smart for that. But he’s not as smart as he thinks he is because he didn’t get Marlene Cox. Not the way he wanted. And somebody’s seen him. Somebody saw him get in that rental or park it by her building. Just the way people saw him running like a scared rabbit away from the scene.”

  She took a long breath, a long sip of coffee. “The moving van, that was his stage set, so he was careful there. He wanted us to find her inside the van. But he had to run, with his eyes burning, his throat on fire from the spray. Had to get to his bolt-hole.”

  She looked over as a doctor in surgical scrubs came down the hall. On his face she could see what Sela Cox had seen—the grimness. “Damn it.”

  Eve got to her feet, and waited for him to go in and speak with the family.

  She heard weeping, male and female, and voices down to murmurs. She was waiting when he stepped back out.

  “Dallas.” She flipped out her badge. “I need a minute.”

  “Dr. Laurence. She can’t talk to you, or anybody else.”

  “She’s alive?”

  “I don’t know how she made it through surgery, and I don’t expect her to last the morning. I’m letting her family go in, to say good-bye.”

  “I wasn’t able to speak to the MTs on-scene. Can you tell me about her injuries?”

  He stalked over to a vending machine, ordered coffee. “Broken ribs. I’d say he kicked her. Collapsed lung, bruised kidneys, dislocated shoulder, broken elbow. Those are just some of the minor injuries. Her skull, that’s a different matter. Ever taken a hard-boiled egg, run it with your palm over a hard surface to break up the shell?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s about what her skull looked like. The MTs got to her fast, and they did a heroic job, but she’d lost a lot of blood before they responded. Her skull’s fractured, Lieutenant, and the damage is severe. There were bone splinters in her brain. The chances of her regaining consciousness, even for a few minutes, are slim to none. The odds of her being able to speak, have a coherent thought, motor functions—should that miracle occur?” He shook his head.

  “I’m told she sprayed the guy,” he added.

  “There was a container of mugger spray on-scene,” Eve confirmed. “The siren engaged. It was identified as belonging to her. My take is she got him; otherwise, he’d have finished what he started. I’m betting she got his eyes.”

  “I’ve put the word out. Anybody comes in this ER, or any other facility I’ve been able to reach with the symptoms, we’ll send up a flag.”

  “That’s helpful, thanks. Any change in her condition, one way or the other, I’d appreciate it if you’d contact me. Peabody? You got a card?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “One more thing,” Eve said when he’d slipped it into his pocket. “You have much call to use this anymore?” She offered him a shard of plaster.

  “Haven’t used this since my intern days,” he said, turning it over in his hand. “Still see it now and then, depending on the injury and the insurance. Plaster’s cheaper than the skin casts used more habitually now. A break takes longer to heal, and the cast’s cumbersome, uncomfortable. More likely to see these on low-income patients.”

  “Where do you get it, the stuff you make it from?”

  “Medical supply company, I imagine. Hell, probably pick some up at a higher end rehab place, for people who want the old stuff, want authentic plasterwork.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I was thinking. Appreciate it.”

  “Medical supplies or building supplies?” Peabody asked as they walked out.

  “I want both. Cash sales. He won’t want a paper trail. And I’m betting there aren’t that many cash sales for this sort of thing. Small amounts, self-pickup. Delivery means he had to give an address. He walked in and bought this, paid cash, walked out. Run building supplies first,” she decided. “Any Joe Blow can walk into one of them and nobody notices. That’s his first choice.”

  She checked the time as she slid into the car. “Briefing in one hour. When we’re done, we’re going shopping.”

  She walked into her office and wasn’t sure if she was annoyed or amused to see Nadine Furst sitting at her desk enjoying a cup of coffee and a tiny muffin.

  “Don’t snap and snarl. I brought you doughnuts.”

  “What kind of doughnuts?”

  “Cream-filled, sprinkled with colored sugar.” Nadine opened the small bakery box. “Six of them, and they’re all yours, fatso.”

  “I like a good bribe. Now get out of my chair.”

  She walked to the AutoChef, ordered up coffee. When she turned back Nadine was sitting in her single visitor’s chair, crossing her silky legs.

  “I should rephrase. Get out of my office.”

  “I thought we’d have breakfast together.” Nadine lifted the minuscule muffin to her lips, and took a bite Eve estimated contained three crumbs. “Dallas, I appreciate your stand on playing favorites, and the bitching and moaning from other members of the Fourth Estate. I’ve backed off. You have to agree.”

  “I’m not seeing your back, but with that shirt, I’m seeing a lot of your tits.”

  “Pretty, aren’t they? But to remain on track, I’ve respected your stand because you had a point. I know you’ve fed Quinton some information—no more, no less, than you wanted out there. I respect that as well.”

  “We’re just loaded with respect this morning.” She took a huge bite of pastry. “Bye-bye now.”

  “He hasn’t put it together. He may, especially after I give him a good nudge. He’s bright and he’s eager, but he’s green. As yet, he hasn’t wondered why you’re primary on what is now three seemingly unrelated homicides.”

  “Crime is running rampant in our city. Run and hide. Better yet, move to Kansas. And it’s two homicides, Nadine. Marlene Cox isn’t dead yet.”

  “Sorry, my information was she wasn’t expected to make it through surgery.”

  “She has. Barely.”

  “Even more curious then. Why our stalwart homicide lieutenant is picking at the threads of an assault.” She took a tiny sip o
f coffee, rubbed her lips together. “I say we’ve got one killer employing a variety of methods. And this occurred to me when I got wind of the last—”

  “Cox was attacked about two-thirty this morning. Shouldn’t you have been asleep, or banging your flavor of the month?”

  “I was asleep, and was awakened from my virginal bed—”

  “Pig’s eye.”

  “With an anonymous tip,” Nadine finished with a little cat’s smile. “I started wondering, then I started working, and I started asking myself what these three women had in common, besides you. I decided, the killer. The first was, obviously, an imitation of the infamous Ripper. What if the others were also imitations of previous crimes?”

  “I’m not going to comment on this, Nadine.”

  “Albert DeSalvo and Theodore Bundy.”

  “No comment.”

  “I don’t need you to comment.” She leaned forward. “I can put enough together to go on the air with a story, with supposition.”

  “Then what’re you doing here?”

  “Giving you a chance to confirm or deny, or to ask me to hold the story I’m putting together. I’ll hold it if you ask me, because you won’t unless you need to.”

  “You’re also thinking I won’t ask unless you’re right, and then you’ll have a big, sexy story with big, sexy ratings.”

  “That plays, too. But I’ll still hold it, if you need me to. And by holding it, I’m giving competitors the chance to come to the same conclusions I have.”

  Eve contemplated her doughnut. “I need to think a minute, so just be quiet.”

  There were pros and cons here, and Eve ran through them all while Nadine sat silently, eating her muffin crumb by crumb.

  “I’m not going to give you data. I’m not even going to give you hints. Because when I’m asked, and I will be, I want to be able to say honestly that I didn’t. That I wasn’t your source. I’m not going to confirm or deny your supposition, which is what you’ll have to say if and when you break this story. Lieutenant Dallas would neither confirm nor deny. I will, however, make a personal comment, between us girls. Besides having those pretty tits, you’ve got a sharp brain.”

  “Why, thank you. I’ve also got great legs.”

  “Now if I were doing this story, which I’m not, I’d wonder why this particular bag of nuts has so little personality, power, and imagination. He has to pretend he’s somebody else to do the job. And the last time out, he flubs it up so bad, a girl about half his size hurts him and he has to run away.”

  Eve picked a sprinkle of colored sugar from the doughnut, laid it on her tongue. “Word is the primary investigating officer has a good idea just who he is, and is, at this time, compiling the evidence so that she can make an arrest, and ensure conviction.”

  “Are you?”

  “I will neither confirm nor deny.”

  “You’re bluffing.”

  “No comment.”

  “Big bluff, Dallas. I go out with this, and you don’t make that arrest quickly, you’re going to look like an asshole.”

  “The story’s your business. Now that I’ve finished my doughnut, I’ve got to get back to my business.”

  “I break this, and it goes down this way, I’m going to deserve an exclusive one-on-one.”

  “I’ll see about that, as soon as I consult my crystal ball.”

  Nadine rose. “Good luck. Serious good luck.”

  “Yeah,” Eve murmured when she was alone. “I’m about due for some.”

  Chapter 18

  She grabbed a conference room, brought in her disc files, set up her board. As she was finishing, Peabody came in.

  “Lieutenant, I’m supposed to do that. It’s my job to do that. How come you’re not letting me do my job?”

  “Bitch, bitch, bitch. I gave you another job. Did you inform Captain Feeney and Detective McNab of the time and place of this briefing?”

  “Yes, sir, I—”

  “Then why aren’t they here?”

  “Well, I . . .” She was saved as the door opened. “They are here.”

  “Good job then. All right, people, take a seat. I’m going to bring you up to speed on my out-of-town interviews, and why my conclusion is our target has practiced his skills in at least three other locations to date.”

  When she’d finished she was sitting on the corner of the table, drinking the coffee she noted Peabody provided her without request. “I’m pushing for the authorization to check travel on my suspects for the dates in question. The commander has agreed to put the pressure on, but as my list contains some influential names, it’s taking time. I’ve bumped Carmichael Smith to the bottom. My opinion is he’s too volatile and too pampered to fit the profile.”

  Peabody launched up a hand like the nerdy kid in class who screwed the grading curve for everybody else. “Yes, Officer?”

  “Sir, couldn’t the fact that subject Smith is volatile and pampered go toward profile rather than away?”

  “These traits could play in, and his travel will be checked along with the others. But he’s bottom of the list for now. Fortney’s ahead of him, but not by much. We—”

  When Peabody’s hand shot up again, Eve found herself caught between amusement and irritation. “What?”

  “Sir, sorry. I’m just trying to cross all the T’s like in a sim. Doesn’t Fortney fit profile, almost perfectly? His upbringing, his previously documented violence against women, his current lifestyle?”

  “Yeah, but he’s bumped down mostly because he’s just such an asshole.” She waited to see if Peabody would comment, and watched her aide’s brow knit as she chewed over the response. “I think our guy has more style, which is why Renquist and Breen are neck-in-neck in my mind. I’m going to corner Breen’s wife’s lover today, and we’ll see what that nets us.”

  “I hear she’s smoking,” McNab commented and earned a frigid look from Peabody.

  “Of course, one of my primary concerns is the fact that she’s smoking,” Eve said coolly. “I’ve no doubt this attribute will assist us in identifying and apprehending a man who’s killed two women and brutally assaulted another in under two weeks. Moving along,” she said when McNab at least pretended to look chastised. “As you EDD guys didn’t come in here doing the victory shuffle, I assume we haven’t locked down the rental.”

  “Why don’t you take this, bright boy?” Feeney said. “See if you can redeem yourself.”

  “He used a wireless unit,” McNab began. “He didn’t bother to bounce or filter, so it was fairly easy to trace back. The transmission for the order originated from the Renaissance Hotel. That’s the fancy place on Park. You gotta be worth minimum of a mil just to get past the doorman. The van was ordered four days ago, at fourteen thirty-six.”

  “Lunchtime crowd,” Eve commented.

  “My guess is he frequents the place, knows where to go to shoot off a quick trans. Lots of big business types cart their pricey little portables to lunch meetings. Since he had very specific requirements for the order, he either had the trans ready to go, or he sat down in one of the privacy booths, or at a nice table with a glass of wine, and generated it there.”

  “Good. We’ll see if any of our choices lunched at the Renaissance on the order date. Not smart,” she said with a satisfied nod. “Smarter would’ve been to dress down, use a cyber-hole somewhere. A place nobody knew him. But he likes to show off. He likes to play, so he goes to an exclusive hotel, where I just bet they know him by name.

  “Peabody? Tell me about the plaster.”

  “I’ve got building supply places in Brooklyn, in Newark, and in Queens who did cash transactions for small quantities of plaster in the past sixty days. None in medical supply places for that substance, cash transactions.”

  “None?”

  “No, sir. Credit or purchasing order from established accounts. Then I got a brainstorm and checked art supply outlets.”

  “Art supply?”

  “Yes, sir. You can sculpt with plaster, and
other forms of art may utilize it. I got several hits in the city, several more in the boroughs and New Jersey for cash.”

  “Looks like we’re going to be busy then.” She checked her wrist unit. “The plaster from the scene’s been in the lab long enough. If they don’t have an exact match on the type, they should have. Let’s see if Dickhead can earn his salary and tell us if there’s a difference between household, medical, and art plaster.”

  She looked at Feeney. “Feel like getting out of the house?”

  “Wouldn’t mind a little fresh air.”

  “Let me know if you find any out there. Want to take the hotel?”

  “Long as I don’t have to wear a tie.”

  “Peabody and I will give Dickhead a push on our way to see the side dish.”

  “She might hit on you,” McNab commented. “Maybe we should take her. Ow!” He grabbed his side where Peabody’s elbow jabbed. “Jeez, just kidding. Since you’ve been studying your brains out, you’ve got no sense of humor.”

  “I’m going to laugh really hard after I kick your ass.”

  “Kids, kids.” Eve could feel her eye starting to twitch. “Let’s save all this until after we catch the mean man and send him to his room. Feeney, control your moron. Not another word, Peabody.”

  She gave her aide a solid push out the door.

  Peabody held it in until they’d driven five blocks. Eve figured it was a new record.

  “I just don’t think he should talk about other women that way. Or look at them with that gleam in his eye. We signed a lease.”

  “Oh Jesus Christ on stilts. You’ve got lease fear, Peabody. Official document phobia. Get over it.”

  “Jesus Christ on stilts?”

  “It just came to me. You’re obsessing because you signed up for—what is it, a year? And now you’re all, what if it doesn’t work out? Who moves out? Who takes the communal salad plates or some stupid shit.”

  “Well, maybe. But that’s normal, isn’t it?”

  “How the hell do I know what’s normal?”

  “You’re married.”

  Sincerely shocked, Eve jerked the vehicle to a halt at a light. “That makes me normal? It just makes me married. Do you know how many abnormal married people there are out there across this great land and beyond? Just take a look at the double Ds that get called in, Manhattan borough alone. Marriage doesn’t make people normal. Marriage isn’t normal, probably. It just . . . is.”