Imitation in Death

Chapter7

“Drop me off on the corner. You don’t have to go down the block.”

Roarke ignored her and breezed through the light. “But your associates would miss the opportunity to witness your arrival in this particular vehicle.”

The vehicle was a shiny silver jewel with a smoked glass retractable top and a snarling panther of an engine. It mortified her, they both knew, for other cops to whistle and hoot about her connection with Roarke’s fancy toys.

She sucked it up, yanked off her sunshades. They were new, one of the items that habitually, and mysteriously, appeared among her things. She suspected they were stylish, knew they were ridiculously expensive. To save herself a little grief, she stuck them in her pocket.

“There’s no reason for you to hang. I don’t know how long I’ll be.”

“I’ll stick around a while and stay out of your way.” He eased in behind a black-and-white and an emergency services vehicle.

“That is some ride, Lieutenant,” one of the uniforms said even as she climbed out. “Bet it burns on a straightaway.”

“Button it, Frohickie. What’ve we got here?”

“Sweet,” he murmured, sliding a hand over the gleaming hood. “Femalevic, strangled in her apartment. Lived alone. No sign of forced entry. Name’sLoisGregg, age sixty-one. Son became concerned when she didn’t show up at a family event or answer her ‘links. Came over, let himself in, found her.”

He spoke briskly, though he did shoot one more look over his shoulder at the car as they trooped into an apartment building.

“Strangled?”

“Yes, sir. Definite signs of sexual assault with object. Fourth floor,” he said when they were in the elevator. “Looks like he used a broomstick on her. It’s pretty bad.”

She said nothing, letting the new data filter through.

“He left a note,” Frohickie said. “Addressed to you. Bastard stuck the envelope between her toes.”

“DeSalvo,” she muttered. “GoodChrist.”

Then she blanked it out, blanked it all out so she would walk into the scene with no set images or preconceptions in her head.

“I need a field kit and a recorder.”

“Brought them up when we got word you were tagged away from home.”

She forgave him for his comments about the car. “Scene’s secured?” she questioned.

“Yes, sir. We’ve got the son in the kitchen, with a uniform and an MT. He’s in bad shape. He says he didn’t touch her.”

“My aide’s on her way. Send her in when she gets here. You have to stay out,” she said to Roarke.

“Understood.” But he felt a quick wrench that he would remain closed out while she walked into what was going to be another nightmare.

She marched in the open door, noted there were no signs of forced entry nor of struggle in the neat, simple living area. There were plain blue curtains at the window, sheer enough to let in the light. No privacy screens were engaged.

She squatted down to examine a few drops of blood on the edge of an area rug.

She could hear weeping from another room. The son in the kitchen, she thought, then blocked it out. Rising, she gestured the other cops back, sealed up, fixed on her recorder, then went into the bedroom.

LoisGregglay on the bed, nude, still bound, with the sash that had strangled her around her neck tied just under her chin in a festive bow.

The creamy envelope withEve ’s name printed on the front was stuck between the toes of her left foot.

There was more blood-not as much as Wooton-on the plain white sheets, on her thighs, on the broomstick he’d left on the floor.

She was a small woman, probably no more than a hundred and ten pounds, with the caramel complexion that indicated mixed-race heritage.

Broken capillaries in her face, in her eyes, the distended and swollen tongue, were signs of the strangulation. The body fought back,Eve thought. Even after the mind went dark, the body fought for air. For life.

Evespotted the long green robe beside the bed. He’d used the robe sash to strangle her.

He’d have wanted you conscious when he hurt you. He’d want to see your face, the pain, the horror, the terror. Yes, he’d want that this time. He’d want to hear you scream. Nice building like this ought to have decent soundproofing. He’d checked it out, checked you out before today.

Did he tell you what he was going to do to you? Or did he work in silence while you begged?

She recorded the scene, documenting the position of the body, the placement of the robe, the broomstick, the carefully drawn curtains.

Then she took the envelope, opened it, and read.

Hello again,LieutenantDallas. Isn’t it a gorgeous day? A day that just begs for heading down to the shore or strolling through the park. I hate to interrupt your Sunday, but you seem to enjoy your work so much-as I do mine-that I didn’t think you’d mind.

I’m a little disappointed in you, however, for a couple of reasons. First, tsk, tsk, on stonewalling the media reports on me. I was really looking forward to the buzz. Then again, you’re not going to be able to keep a lid on the barrel too much longer. Second, I thought you’d be giving me just a bit more of a challenge by this point.

Hopefully, my latest offer will inspire you.

Best of luck!

– Al

“Self-important bastard, aren’t you?” she stated aloud, then sealed the note and envelope before opening the field kit.

She’d completed the preliminary exam whenPeabody came in. “Lieutenant, I’m sorry. We were in theBronx.”

“What the hell were you…” She broke off. “What is that? What are you wearing?”

“It’s a, um, ah, it’s a sundress.”Flushing a little,Peabody brushed a hand over the poppy-pink skirt. “It took us so long to get back, I thought I should come straight here instead of heading home to change into uniform.”

“Huh.” The dress also had skinny little shoulder straps and a very low bodice. It demonstrated what McNab was fond of saying:Peabody sure was built.

Peabody’s ruler-straight hair was covered by a wide-brimmed straw hat, and she was wearing lip dye that matched the sundress. “How are you supposed to work in that getup?”

“Well, I-”

“You said we? You brought McNab?”

“Yeah. Yes, sir. We were at the zoo. In theBronx.”

“That’s something anyway. Tell him to go check the outside security, and the discs for the lobby level and elevators. This building should have them.”

“Yes, sir.”

She went out to relay the order asEve walked into the adjoining bath.

He could’ve washed up after, she figured, but there was no sign of it. The bath was tidy, the towels looked fresh.Lois hadn’t liked fuss,Eve mused, or clutter.

Must have brought his own soap and towel, too, or took some away with him.

“We’ll want the sweepers to check the drains. Might get lucky,” she said asPeabody came back in.

“I don’t get it. This isn’t like Wooton. Nothing like Wooton. Different type of victim, different method. There was another note?”

“Yeah. It’s sealed.”

Peabodystudied the scene, tried to commit it to memory as the recorder did. She noticed, as Eve had, the little vase of flowers on the nightstand, the square catchall box on the dresser that said I LOVE GRANDMA in pink swirly letters on the top, and the framed photos and holos that stood on the dresser, the nightstand, the small desk by the window.

It was sad, she thought. It was always sad to see those bits and pieces of a life when the life was over.

But she tried to shake it off.Dallas would shake it off, she knew. Or bury it, or use it. But she wouldn’t let herself be distracted by the pity.

Peabodylooked again, making the deliberate shift from woman to cop. “Do you think there’s more than one killer? A team?”

“No, there’s only one.”Eve lifted one of the victim’s hands. No polish, she noted. Short nails. No rings, but a faint pale circle where one had been, and habitually. Third finger, left hand. “He’s just showing us how versatile he is.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I do. See if you can find where she kept her jewelry. I’m looking for a ring, band style.”

Peabodystarted on the dresser drawers. “Maybe you could explain what you understand, so I can.”

“Victim is an older woman. No sign of forced entry or struggle. She let him in because she thought he was okay. He was probably suited up as maintenance or repair. She turns her back, and he hits her over the head. She’s got a laceration on the back of the skull, and there’s some blood on the living room rug.”

“Was she an LC?”

“Doubtful.”

“Got her jewelry.”Peabody lifted out a clear-sided box with insets of varying sizes. “She liked earrings. Got a few rings, too.”

She brought the case over, holding it whileEve poked through. Exposure to Roarke, and his propensity for dumping glitters on her had taught her to spot the real stuff from the costume.Lois ’s body adornments were mostly costume, but there were a few good pieces as well.

He hadn’t bothered with those. Unlikely he’d even looked. “No, I don’t think so. I think she was wearing a ring, a kind of wedding ring, and he took it off her finger. A symbol, a souvenir.”

“I thought she lived alone.”

“She did. Another reason he picked her.” She turned away from the box of pretty stones and metal, looked back atLoisGregg. “He carries her in here. He’s got his equipment again, likely in a toolbox this time. Restraints for her hands and feet. Strips off her robe, ties her up. Finds what he wants to use to rape her. He’s going to wake her up then. He didn’t get to play with the other, but this one’s different.”

“Why?”Peabody set the jewelry box back on the dresser. “Why is she different?”

“Because that’s what he’s looking for. Variety. She screams when she comes around and realizes-when it comes into her like a flood what’s happened, and what will happen. Even though part of her rejects it, refuses to believe, she screams and struggles, and begs. They like it when you beg. When he starts on her, when the pain spurts into her, hot, cold, impossible, she screams more. He’d get off on that.”

Evelifted one ofLois ’s hands again, then moved down to her feet. “She bloodied her wrists and ankles trying to get free, straining and twisting against the restraints. She didn’t give up. He’d have enjoyed that, too. It’s exciting for them when you fight, makes their breath come fast in your face, makes them hard. It gives them power when you fight and can’t win.”

“Dallas.”Peabody kept her voice low, laid a hand onEve ’s shoulder as her lieutenant had gone pale and clammy.

Eveshrugged, carefully took a step back. She knew everythingLoisGregg had felt. But it wouldn’t take her down, not now, into the memory, into the nightmare. The blood and the cold and the pain.

Her voice was level and cool when she continued. “When he’s done raping her, he takes the sash from her robe. She’s incoherent now, from the pain and the shock. He gets on the bed, straddles her, looks into her eyes when he strangles her, listens to her fight to breathe, feels her body convulsing under his in that sick parody of sex. That’s when he comes, when her body bucks under his and her eyes bulge. That’s when he gets his release.

“When he comes back to himself, he ties the sash into a bow, wedges the note between her toes. He takes the ring off her finger, amused by it. Such a female thing, to wear the symbol when there’s no man to go with it. He slips the ring in his pocket, or puts it in his toolbox, then checks how it all looks, and he’s pleased. Just as it’s supposed to. An excellent imitation.”

“Of what?”

“Of who,”Eve corrected. “AlbertDeSalvo. TheBoston Strangler.”

– -«»--«»--«»--

She stepped out into the hallway, where cops were milling around, doing what they could to keep people from the neighboring apartments inside.

And there was Roarke, she thought. There was a man with more money than God sitting cross-legged on the hallway floor, his back supported by the wall as he worked with his PPC.

And would probably be content to do so, for reasons she could never understand, for hours.

She moved to him, squatted down so their eyes were level. “I’m going to be here a while. You ought to go on home. I can catch a ride into Central.”

“Bad, is it?”

“Very. I’ve got to talk to the son, and he’s…” She let out a long breath. “They tell me the MT gave him something, but he’s still pretty messed up.”

“One is, when their mother’s murdered.”

Despite the presence of other cops, she laid a hand over his. “Roarke-”

“Demons don’t die,Eve, we just learn to live with them. We’ve both known that all along. I’ll deal with mine, in my way.”

She started to speak again, then looked up when McNab came off the elevator.

“Lieutenant, no disc run since eight this morning. Nothing from the outside unit, elevator, or the hall on this floor. Best I can tell, he jammed it by remote from outside before entering the building. I could verify, but I don’t have any tools on me.”

He held out his hands, a half-ass smile on his face, to indicate his baggy red shorts, blue cinch vest, and toeless airsneaks.

“Then go get some,” she began.

“I happen to have a few things in the car that might help with that,” Roarke interrupted. “Why don’t I give you a hand,Ian?”

“That would be mag. It’s pretty decent security, so I figure if he went remote, it had to be police-issue level or above. Can’t tell unless I can get into the panel and check the board.”

Evestraightened, then held out a hand. Roarke grasped her forearm, and she his, to help him to his feet. “Go ahead. Get me best guess on what he used.”

Oh eight hundred for entry, she thought. With the time of death she’d established, he’d spent no more than an hour onLoisGregg. More time than Wooton, more time to play, but still fast.

She went back in, walked to the kitchen.

JeffreyGreggwasn’t weeping now, but the tears already shed had wrecked his face. It was red and swollen, much like his mother’s.

He sat at a small laminated table, his hands cupped around a glass of water. His brown hair stood up in tufts from where she imagined he’d pulled at it, raked his fingers through it, in his grief.

She judged him to be somewhere in his early thirties, and dressed in brown shorts and a white T-shirt for a casual summer Sunday.

She sat across from him, waited until those damaged eyes lifted to hers.

“Mr.Gregg, I’mLieutenantDallas. I need to talk to you.”

“They said I couldn’t go in and see her. I should go in. When I-when I found her, I didn’t go in. I just ran out again, and called the police. I should’ve gone in-something. Covered her up?”

“No. You did exactly the right thing. You helped her more by doing just exactly what you did. I’m sorry,Mr.Gregg. I’m very sorry for your loss.”

Useless words, she knew. Goddamn useless words. She hated saying them. Hated not being able to count the number of times they’d forced themselves out of her mouth.

“She never hurt anybody.” He managed to lift the glass to his lips. “I think you should know that. She never hurt anybody in her life. I don’t understand how somebody could do this to her.”

“What time did you come here today?” She knew already, but would take him through the details, the repetition.

“I, ah, came over about three, I think. Maybe closer to four. No, nearer to three. I’m so mixed up. We were supposed to have this afternoon cookout at my sister’s inRidgewood. My mother was supposed to come by our place. We’re over on39^th. We were all going to take the train over toNew Jersey. She was supposed to be at our place by one.”

He gulped some water. “She runs late a lot. We tease her about it, but when it got to be like two, I started calling to move her along. She didn’t answer, so I figured she was on her way. But she didn’t show. I called her pocket number, but that didn’t answer either. My wife and kid were getting restless and annoyed. Me, too. I was getting pissed off.”

Remembering that, he began to cry again. “I was really steamed that I had to come over here and get her. I wasn’t worried so much, not really. I never thought anything had happened to her, and all the time she was…”

“When you got here,”Eve prompted, “you let yourself in. You have a key?”

“Yeah, I got access to the outside door and her apartment. I was thinking, something wrong with her ‘links, that’s all. She forgets to bump them sometimes and they go out. Something’s wrong with her ‘links and she’s lost track of time. That’s what I was thinking when I let myself in. I called out to her, like: ‘Mom! Damn it, Mom, we were supposed to leave for Mizzy’s two hours ago.’ And when she didn’t answer, I thought, Oh crap, she’s on her way to my place and I’m over here, and this is so irritating. But I walked to the bedroom door anyway. I don’t even know why. And she was… God. God. Mom.”

He broke down again, andEve shook her head at the MT before he could move in with a tranq. “Mr.Gregg.Jeff, you have to hold it together. You have to help me. Did you see anyone near the apartment, anyone outside?”

“I don’t know.” He mopped at his streaming face. “I was irritated and in a hurry. I didn’t see anything special.”

“Did your mother mention being uneasy about anything, noticing something, someone who worried her?”

“No. She’s lived here for a dozen years. It’s a nice building. Secure.” He took deep breaths to steady his voice. “She knows her neighbors. Leah and me, we’re only ten blocks away. We see each other every week. She’d’ve told me if something was wrong.”

“How about your father?”

“They split, God, twenty-five years ago. He lives out inBoulder. They don’t see each other much, but they get along okay.Jesus,Jesus, my father wouldn’t have done this.” The hitch came back in his voice, and he began to rock himself. “You’d have to be crazy to do this to somebody.”

“It’s just routine. Was she involved with anyone?”

“Nobody special now. She hadSam. They were together for about ten years. He was killed in a tram wreck about six years ago. He was the one for her, I guess. There hasn’t been anybody else special since.”

“Did she wear a ring?”

“A ring?” He looked atEve blankly, as if the question had been posed in some strange foreign language. “Yeah.Sam gave her a ring when they moved in together. She always wore it.”

“Can you describe it for me?”

“Um… it was gold, I think. Maybe with stones on it? God. I can’t remember.”

“It’s okay.” He’d had enough, she judged. And this line was a dead end. “One of the officers is going to take you home now.”

“But… isn’t there something? Shouldn’t I do something?” He stared beseechingly at Eve. “Can you tell me what I’m supposed to do?”

“Just go home to your family,Jeff. That’s the best thing you can do for now. I’m going to take care of your mother.”

She walked out with him, turning him over to a uniform for escort home.

“Tell me something,” she demanded of McNab.

“Definitely a remote zap. He has to have a superior skill with electronics and security, or enough money to buy a jammer, and we’re talking mucho black-market buckaroos for a unit like this.”

“Why?” she wanted to know. “A building like this, security’s good, but it’s not top level.”

“Okay, it’s not that it jammed security, it’s how it jammed.” He pulled a pack of gum from one of his many pockets, offered Eve some, then folded a cube into his mouth when she shook her head.

“It shut everything down-security-wise-without messing with other ops. Lights, climate control, home and personal electronics weren’t touched. Except-” Busily chewing, he pointed to the living room lamps. “In here. This apartment unit, and this specific room. Lights on,” he ordered, andEve nodded when the lamps stayed dark.

“Yeah, that fits. ‘Sorry to bother you, ma’am, but we’ve had reports of electronic malfunction in the building.’ He’s dressed like a workman. I’d make book he’s got a toolbox. A big helpful smile. Maybe he even tells her to try the lights, and when they don’t work, she opens the door.”

McNab blew an impressive purple bubble, snapped it. “Plays for me.”

“Check out the ‘links, let’s be thorough. You find anything, I’m at Central.Peabody!”

“With you, sir.”

“Not while you’re wearing that stupid hat. Lose it,”Eve ordered and strode out.

“I like the hat.” McNab kept his voice low. “Sexy.”

“McNab, you think brick’s sexy,”Peabody replied. But with a quick check to see if the coast was clear, she gave his ass a fast squeeze. “Maybe I’ll wear it later. You know, just the hat.”

“She-Body, you’re killing me.”

He took a quick peek, sawEve was gone, then draggedPeabody close for a sloppy kiss.

“Blueberry.” Amused, she blew a purple bubble with the gum he’d passed to her. Then hurrying afterEve, she pulled the hat off her head.

She foundEve outside standing beside the totally iced vehicle with the totally iced Roarke.

“No point in it,”Eve was saying. “We’ll hitch in a black-and-white. If I’m going to be really late, I’ll let you know.”

“Let me know regardless, and I’ll have transpo arranged to bring you home.”

“I can arrange my own transpo.”

“This isn’t transpo.”Peabody gave a feline purr as she stroked the car. “This is a total ride.”

“We could easily squeeze in.”

“No.”Eve cut Roarke off. “We’re not squeezing anywhere.”

“Suit yourself.Peabody, you look delicious.” He took the hat from her hand, arranged it back on her head. “Absolutely edible.”

“Oh. Well. Golly.” Under the hat, her head went wonderfully light.

“Wipe that ridiculous look off your face, lose the hat, and get us a ride to Central,”Eve snapped.

“Huh?” She let out a long sigh. “Oh, yes, sir. Doing all that.”

“Do you have to do that?”Eve demanded of Roarke whenPeabody walked dreamily away.

“Yes. When she makes detective, I’m going to miss seeing our girl in uniform, but it should be interesting to see how she suits up otherwise. I’ll see you at home, Lieutenant.” And not caring if it annoyed her, he caught her chin in his hand, pressed his lips firmly to hers. “You are, as always, delicious.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Jamming her hands in her pockets, she stalked away.

– -«»--«»--«»--

It was dark when she got home. Whether it was bullheadedness or not, she hadn’t tagged Roarke for transpo even after realizing she didn’t have cab fare on her. But she had dug up subway tokens, and found the underground ride jammed with people going home after a Sunday out on the town.

She opted to stand, swaying with the rhythm of the train as it headed uptown.

She didn’t ride the subway enough anymore,Eve thought. Not that she missed it. Half the ads were in languages not her own, half the passengers were zoned or irritated. And there would always be one or two who smelled as if they had a religious objection to soap and water.

Such as the wizened, toothless beggar with his license around his grubby neck who gave her a gummy grin. Still, it only took one steely stare to have him looking elsewhere.

She supposed she’d missed that, just a little.

She shifted, whiling away the trip by studying the other passengers. Students, buried in their disc books. Kids heading out to the vids. An old man snoring loud enough to make her wonder if he’d slept through his stop already. Some tired-looking women with children, a couple of tough guys looking bored.

And the skinny, geeky guy in the unseasonable trench coat currently masturbating at the far end of the car.

“Oh, forChrist ’s sake.” She started over, but one of the tough guys spotted the geek, and obviously taking exception to the activity smashed a fist into the whacker’s face.

Blood spurted. Several people screamed. Though his nose was now a fountain, the geek kept himself in hand.

“Break it up.”Eve surged, reached down to grab tough guy number one when a fellow passenger panicked, sprang to his feet, and knockedEve into the fist of tough guy number two.

“Goddamn it to hell!” She saw a couple of shooting stars, shook her head clear. “I’m the frigging police.” With her cheek throbbing, she smashed her elbow into tough guy number one to stop him from pounding on the giggling pervert still whacking off on the floor of the car, then stomped her foot on the instep of tough guy two.

When she hauled up the geek, snarled, everyone else stepped back. Something about the glint in her eye did what the tough guy’s fist hadn’t. The geek went limp.

She glanced down as he deflated, and let out a sigh. “Put that thing away,” she ordered.

– -«»--«»--«»--

Screw the subway, she grumbled as she strode up the long drive toward home. The ride had given her a sore jaw and a headache, and cost her the time it had taken to get off the damn car and turn the idiot over to the transit authority.

She didn’t much care that there was a nice breeze stirring up, an almost balmy one. Or that it carried hints of something sweet and floral into the air. She didn’t care that the sky was so clear she could see a three-quarter moon hanging in it like a lamp.

Okay, it looked nice, but hell.

She stomped inside, and after a terse inquiry, was told by the house system that Roarke was in the family media room.

Which was opposed to the main media room, she thought. Where the hell was it again? Because she wasn’t entirely sure and the hike from the subway stop to the front door had been considerable, she went into the elevator.

“Family media room,” she ordered, and was whisked up, and east.

The main media room was for parties and events, she remembered. It could fit more than a hundred people in plush chairs, and offered a wall screen as wide as a theater’s.

But the family media room was-she supposed he’d say-more intimate. Deep colors, she recalled, cushy seats. Two screens-one for vids, one for games. And the complex and complicated sound system that could play anything from the old-fashioned clunky vinyl records Roarke liked to fiddle with on occasion to the minute sound sticks.

She stepped into the room to a blast of sound that seemed to come from everywhere. Her eyes widened in reaction to the fast-moving space battle being waged over the wall screen.

Roarke was kicked back in a lounge chair, the cat in his lap, a glass of wine in his hand.

She should go to work, she told herself. Do more research on the Boston Strangler, keep digging for a connection between Wooton andGregg. Though she was dead sure there would be no connection.

She should hound the sweepers, the ME, the lab. None of whom, she knew, would pay much attention to her at nearly ten on a Sunday night. But she could harass them anyway.

She could run probabilities, go over her notes, her suspect lists, stare at her murder board.

Instead, she walked over, plucked the cat off Roarke’s lap. “You’re in my seat,” she told him, and set him on another chair.

She slid into Roarke’s lap, took his wine. “What’s this one about?”

“It seems water is the commodity in fashion. This particular planet in the Zero quadrant-”

“There isn’t any Zero quadrant.”

“It’s fictional, my darling, literal-mindedEve.” He snuggled her in, pressing an absent kiss to her head as he watched the action. “Anyway, this planet’s all but out of water. Potable water. And there’s a rescue attempt being made to get the colony there a supply, and the means to clean up what they have. But there’s this other faction who wants the water for themselves. There’ve been a couple of bloody battles over it already.”

Something exploded on-screen, a shower of color, an ear-splitting boom of sound.

“Nicely done,” Roarke commented. “And there’s a woman, head of the environmental police-the good guys-who’s reluctantly in love with the rogue cargo captain who’s helping deliver the goods-for a price. It’s about thirty minutes in. I can start it over.”

“No, I’ll catch up.”

She intended to sit with him for a few minutes only, let her mind rest. But she got caught up in the story, and it was so nice, so simple to stay, stretched out in the chair with him while fictional battles raged.

And good overcame evil.

“Not bad,” she said when the credits began to roll. “I’m going to get another hour or two of work in.”

“Are you going to tell me about it?”

“Probably.” She climbed out of the chair, stretched, then blinked like an owl when he turned on the light.

“Well, damn it,Eve, what have you done to your face now?”

“It wasn’t my fault.” Sulking a little, she touched fingers gingerly to her jaw. “Somebody knocked me into this guy’s fist when I was trying to stop him from beating this other guy who was whacking off in the subway to a bloody pulp. I couldn’t blame the guy, the guy with the fist, because he wasn’t aiming it at me. But still.”

“My life,” Roarke said after a moment, “was gray before you walked into it.”

“Yeah, I’m a rainbow.” She wiggled her jaw. “My face anyway. You up for some drone work?”

“I might be persuaded. After we put something on that bruise.”

“It’s not so bad. You know, the transit cop told me that guy’s a regular on that line. They call himWilly the Wanker.”

“That’s a fascinating bit ofNew York trivia.” He pulled her toward the elevator. “It makes me yearn to ride the subway.”