Imitation in Death

Chapter23

He’d be getting dressed now,Eve figured, as she looked out through the privacy-screened windows ofMitchell ’s loft. It would be full dark soon. Marsonini had always had a long, leisurely meal, with two glasses of wine, before a kill. Always an upscale restaurant, booking a corner table.

He could spend two, even three hours over it. Savoring the food, sipping the wine. Ending with coffee and dessert. A man who enjoyed the finer things.

Renquist would appreciate that.

Evecould see him now, in her mind’s eye. Buttoning a perfectly white, bespoke shirt. Watching his own fingers in the mirror. It would be a good room, well appointed. He wouldn’t tolerate anything but the best-as Renquist or Marsonini.

A silk tie. Probably a silk tie. He’d like the way it felt in his fingers as he slipped it on, as he finessed the perfect knot.

He would take it off after his victim was subdued and restrained. Carefully hanging every article of clothing to avoid creasing. He wouldn’t want creases any more than bloodstains.

But for now, he’d enjoy the act of dressing well, of good material against his skin, and the anticipation of the food and wine, and what followed it.

She could see him, Renquist, turning himself into Marsonini. Grooming the long red hair that was his pride and his vanity. Would Renquist see Marsonini’s face in the mirror now? She imagined he would. The darker complexion, the less even features, the fuller mouth, the pale, pale eyes that would peer out from behind tinted shades. He would need to see it or the night wouldn’t have the same flavor.

Now the jacket. Something in light gray, maybe, perhaps with a faint pinstripe. A good summer suit for a man of discriminating tastes. Then the lightest splash of cologne.

He would check his briefcase. Take a long breath to draw in the scent of the leather. Would he take out all of his tools? Probably. He would run his hands along the lengths of rope. Thin, strong rope that would leave painful grooves in his victim’s flesh.

He loved the thought of their pain. Then the ball gag. He preferred the humiliation of that over cloth. The condoms, for his own safety and protection. The thin cigars and slim gold lighter. He enjoyed a good smoke nearly as much as burning those tiny circles into his victims’ skin and watching the agony scream in their eyes. The little antique bottle he’d filled with alcohol, to pour over the wounds for that extra panache.

A retractable bat, honed steel. Strong enough to break bones, shatter cartilage. And phallic enough to suit another purpose should he be in the mood.

Blades, of course. Smooth ones, jagged ones, in case he found the woman’s kitchen knives under par.

His music discs, the night-vision goggles, the hand blaster or the ministunner, his paper-thin clear gloves. He detested the texture and scent of Seal-It or any of its clones.

His own towel. White, Egyptian cotton, and his own fresh cake of unscented soap for washing up after the job was done.

And lastly, the security codes, cloned the day before during his visit to the loft. The jammer that would disengage the cameras so that he could stroll into the building without leaving a trace.

All neatly packed now, and locked into the elegant case.

One last look in the mirror, a full-length to show himself the entire effect. It had to be perfect. A flick of the finger over a lapel to remove a minute speck of lint.

Then he would stroll out the door, to begin his evening out.

“Where were you?” Roarke asked when her eyes changed, when her shoulders relaxed.

“With him.” She looked over, saw he held two mugs of coffee. “Thanks,” she said, taking one.

“And where is he?”

“Heading out to dinner. Soup to nuts. He’ll pay cash. He always pays cash. He’ll linger over it until nearlymidnight, then he’ll take a long walk. Marsonini didn’t drive, and rarely took cabs. He’ll walk here, juicing himself up, block by block.”

“How did they catch him?” He knew, but he wantedEve to say it, to talk it out.

“His intended victim lived in a loft, not so different than this. Makes sense. One of her friends had a major fight with her boyfriend, and came over to cry on Lisel’s-that was her name-came over to cry on her shoulder or whatever women do.”

“Eat strawberry ice cream.”

“Shut up. So the friend finally cried it out and bunked on the sofa. It was the music that woke her up. She hadn’t heard him come in-apparently they’d killed a bottle of cheap wine or brew. Something. Marsonini hadn’t spotted her sleeping there, which was a break. So the friend goes toward the bedroom to see about the music. Lisel was already bound, gagged, with a broken kneecap. Marsonini was naked. His back was to the doorway. He was climbing onto the bed, getting ready to rape Lisel.”

She knew what had been in the victim’s head, swimming over the pain. She knew that the awful terror of what was to come was worse, so much worse than pain.

“The friend kept her head,”Eve continued. “She ran back to the living room, called nine-one-one, then hurried back to the bedroom, picked up this bat he’d used to break Lisel’s kneecap, and she whaled on him. Fractured his skull, broke his jaw, his nose, his elbow. By the time the cops got there, Marsonini was unconscious and in a sorry state. She’d untied Lisel, covered her up, and was holding a knife to the bastard’s throat, hoping-she said in her statement-he’d come around so she could stick it in his gullet.”

“I’d say it stuck in his gullet that a woman stopped him.”

Her lips quirked a little, because she understood. “I’m counting on it. He died in prison two years later when an unidentified inmate or guard castrated him and left him lying in his own cage. Bled to death.”

She breathed deep, found it had helped to talk it through. “I’m going to make the rounds. You’ve got two hours to stretch your legs around here, then we tuck in. And we wait.”

Atmidnight, she hauled a stool into the closet. She kept the door open to an angle that gave her a view of the bed, andPeabody ’s upper half.

The apartment was full dark, and silent.

“Peabody, check your communicator every fifteen, until I order radio silence. I don’t want you nodding off in there.”

“Lieutenant, I couldn’t fall asleep if you gave me a high-powered soother. I’m revved.”

“Do the checks. Stay icy.”

What if I’m wrong? she asked herself. If he changed targets, changed methods, got a whiff of me? If he doesn’t come tonight, will he kill randomly or just rabbit? Does he have a back door? An emergency route, emergency funds, and ID?

He’ll come, she assured herself. And if he doesn’t, I’ll track him.

She ran through her own checks, got the all-quiet from the street teams, the house teams. After an hour, she stood up to stretch and keep herself limber.

After two, she felt her blood begin to pump. He was coming. She knew he was coming seconds before her communicator hissed in her ear.

“Possible sighting. Lone male, proceeding south toward building. Six-two, a hundred and ninety. Light-colored suit and dark tie. He’s carrying a briefcase.”

“Observe only. Don’t approach. Feeney, you copy?”

“Loud and clear.”

“McNab?”

“We’re on it.”

“Looks like a false alarm. He’s moving past the building, continuing south. Wait… He’s watching, that’s what he’s doing. Scoping things out, checking the street. He’s turning back, approaching the building again. Something in his hand. Might be a security jammer. Turning in. He’s heading in, Lieutenant.”

“Stay in the vehicle. Wait for my command.Peabody?”

“I’m ready.”

Evesaw the slight movement in the bed, and knewPeabody had her stunner in her hand. “Feeney, you and the civilian stay behind those doors until I clear it. I want him all the way in. McNab, I want that elevator shut down the minute he’s through the door, and your team out and blocking the hall a second after that. Copy?”

“You’ve got it. How’s my sex queen?”

“I beg your pardon, Detective?”

“Um… Question directed atOfficerPeabody, Lieutenant.”

“No personal communications or stupid-ass remarks, for sweetChrist ’s sake. Give me a twenty on the suspect.”

“He’s using the stairs, sir. Moving between second and third floor. I’ve got a good clear view of his face,Dallas. Positive ID forNiles Renquist. Moving to your door now. Taking out a keycode. He’s through, and in.”

“Move now,”Eve said in a whisper. “All units close in now, and hold.”

She couldn’t hear him. Not yet. So she brought him into her head. Marsonini always removed his shoes before entering the bedroom. Shoes and socks. He would leave them neatly beside the entrance door, then take off the shades, put on the night-vision goggles. With them, he could move through the dark like a cat. Then he could stand over the victim, watching her sleep before he pounced.

Evedrew her weapon. Waited.

She heard the faintest creak of the floorboard, and willed him to come on, come on, you son of a bitch.

Then with her eyes long adjusted to the dark, she saw the shape of him, saw him stroke a hand gently over Peabody’s back.

She kicked the door open. “Lights!” She shouted.

He whirled, with the goggles blinding him now. The bat was in his hand, and he swung out with it, toward the sound of her voice even as he ripped the goggles away.

“Police. Drop the weapon! Drop your weapon and freeze or I will drop you.”

His eyes were huge, blinking madly. But she saw the instant he recognized her and understood. She saw all his plans, his victories, drain out of his head. “Filthy cunt.”

“Come on then.” She lowered her weapon, then stabbed a warning finger toward the doorway when Roarke shoved in with Feeney behind him. “Don’t do it,” she snapped at them.

Renquist howled, threw the bat at her, then leaped.

She shifted, let the metal glance off her shoulder. Because it was more satisfying than a stun, she used her body, tucking to drive that same shoulder into his gut, her knee to his groin. And when he started to fold, her fist found its way to the underside of his jaw.

“That last one was for Marlene Cox,” Eve muttered.

She planted her foot on the small of his back as she pulled out her restraints. “Hands behind you, you bucket of puke.”

“I’ll kill you. I’ll kill all of you.” Blood trickled out of his mouth as he struggled. His eyes went wide and wild when Eve yanked the wig away.

“Keep your hands off me, you revolting bitch. Do you know who I am?”

“Yeah, I know just who you are.” She flipped him over because she wanted him to see her. She wanted him to look at her face. The hate was there, the sort she’d seen before. The kind of bone-deep loathing she’d seen in the eyes of her own mother.

But seeing it now brought her only satisfaction.

“Do you know who I am, Niles? I’m the woman, the revolting bitch, the filthy cunt who’s kicked your sorry ass. I’m the one who’s going to lock the cage on you.”

“You’ll never put me away.” Tears began to shimmer in his eyes. “You won’t lock me in the dark again.”

“You’re already gone. And when Breen writes about this one, he’ll make careful note that it was a woman who beat you.”

He began to wail and to weep. She would’ve said like a woman, but it would’ve been an insult to her entire sex.

“Read him his rights,” she told Peabody, who’d emerged from the bed in full uniform. “Have him transported to Central and booked. You know the drill.”

“Yes, sir. Do you wish to accompany the prisoner?”

“I’ll settle things here and follow you in. I think you should be able to handle him, Detective.”

“I think a ten-year-old boy could handle him in this shape, sir.” She shook her head as Renquist continued to sob and drum his feet like a child in the throes of a tantrum. Then her head snapped up. “What? What did you say?”

“Do I have to repeat a standard order for prisoner procedure?”

“No. No, sir. Did you… did you say ‘detective’?”

“Something wrong with your ears? Oh, by the way, congratulations. Suspect is contained and in custody,” she said into her communicator as she walked from the room. She paused only long enough to wink at Roarke. “All units, stand down. Nice job.”

“Go ahead,” Feeney said to Peabody as she stood shell-shocked with McNab’s kissing noises and applause ringing in her earpiece. “I’ve got this bag of shit.”

With a little whoop, Peabody leaped over Renquist. “Dallas! Are you sure? Really, really sure? The results aren’t posted until tomorrow.”

“Why aren’t you following my direct order re the prisoner?”

“Please.”

“Jesus, what a baby.” But it took every ounce of will to hold back the grin. “I’ve got some pull. I used it. Results will be posted at oh eight hundred. You placed twenty-sixth, which isn’t shabby. They’re taking a full hundred, so you’re in. You could’ve done better on the sims.”

“I knew it.”

“But you did good. All in all you did good. The standard ceremony will be at noon, day after tomorrow. You will not cry during the cleanup of an operation,” she said when Peabody’s eyes teared up.

“I won’t. Okay.” Peabody threw open her arms, lurched forward.

Eve backpedaled. “No kissing! Mother of God. You get a handshake. A handshake.” She stuck out her hand in defense. “That’s it.”

“Yes, sir. Yes, sir.” She took Eve’s hand, pumped it. “Oh screw it,” she said, and wrapped her arms tightly enough around Eve to crack ribs.

“Get off me, you maniac.” But now it was touch-and-go whether she could hold back the laugh. “Go jump McNab. I’ll transport the damn prisoner.”

“Thanks. Oh man, oh boy, thanks!” She started to run for the door when it flew open. McNab caught her-and Eve had to give him credit for keeping his feet-in mid-air.

Rolling her eyes for form, she walked back into the bedroom.

“I’ll load him up,” Feeney told her. “Let the girl have time to do her victory dance.”

“I’ll be right behind you.”

“You’ll be sorry.” Renquist’s eyes were still streaming, but the fury was in them again, lighting the tears. “Very sorry.”

She stepped up, into his face, let the silence hang until she saw fear eat away at the anger. “I knew it was you, the first time I saw you. I saw what you were. Do you know what you are, Niles? Pitiful and weak, a coward who hid behind other cowards because he didn’t even have the balls to be himself when he killed innocents. Do you know why I ordered my detective to take you in? Because you’re not worth another minute of my time. You’re over.”

She turned away when he began to weep again. “Give me a lift, Sailor,” she said to Roarke.

“It would be my pleasure.” He took her hand when they reached the door, and tightened his grip when she hissed and tried to shake him off.

“Too late to worry about such things now. You winked at me during an operation.”

“I certainly did nothing of the kind.” She folded her lips, primly. “Maybe I had something in my eye.”

“Let’s have a look.” He backed her up against the wall of the hallway, and laughed when she swore at him. “No, I don’t see a thing, except those big, gorgeous cop’s eyes.” He kissed her between them. “Peabody’s not the only one who did good today.”

“I did the job. That’s good enough for me.”

– -«»--«»--«»--

Two days later, she read Mira’s preliminary psych report on Niles Renquist. Then she leaned back, stared at the ceiling. It was an interesting ploy, she mused. If his defense team was good enough, he might just pull it off.

She looked to the vase of flowers on her desk-sent that morning by Marlene Cox, via her mother. Instead of embarrassing her as they might have done, they pleased her.

Whatever the ploy, justice would be served. Niles Renquist would never see freedom again. And she had a decent shot at nailing his wife as accessory after the fact.

At least the PA had agreed to press for it, and that would have to be enough.

If she succeeded there, she was orphaning a young girl, deliberately seeing to it that a five-year-old child was without mother or father. Rising, she walked to the window. But some children were better off, weren’t they, without a certain type of parent?

How the hell did she know. She dragged a hand through her hair, scrubbed them both over her face. She could only do the job and hope when the dust settled, it was right.

It felt right.

She heard her knob turn, then the knock. She’d locked it, pointedly, and now checked the time. Rolling her shoulders, she picked up her cap, set it in place.

When she opened the door she saw the rare jolt of shock on Roarke’s face, then the interest, then the gleam that had color rising up on her neck.

“What are you staring at?”

“I’m not entirely sure.” He stepped in before she could step out, then closed the door behind him.

“We’ve got to go. The ceremony starts in fifteen.”

“And it’s a five-minute walk. Turn around once.”

“I will not.” Another few seconds, she figured, and that damn flush would hit her cheeks. Mortifying her. “You’ve seen a cop in uniform before.”

“I’ve never seen my cop in uniform before. I didn’t know you had one.”

“Of course I’ve got one. We’ve all got one. I just never wear it. But this is… important, that’s all.”

“You look…” He traced one of her shiny brass buttons. “… amazing. Very sexy.”

“Oh, get out.”

“Seriously.” He leaned back to take it in. That long, lanky form did wonders, he thought, for the spit and polish, the crisp formal blues.

Medals, earned in the line of duty, glinted against the stiff jacket. She’d shined her black cop shoes-which he now imagined she’d kept buried in her locker-to mirror gleams. She wore her weapon at her hip, and her cap squared off on her short hair.

“Lieutenant,” he said with a purr in his voice. “You’ve got to wear that home.”

“Why?”

He grinned. “Guess.”

“You’re a sick, sick man.”

“We’ll play cops and robbers.”

“Out of my way, pervert.”

“One thing.” He had fast hands, and had dipped one down her starched collar before she could move. And pulled out, to his delight, the chain that carried the diamond he’d once given her. “That’s perfect, then,” he murmured, and tucked it away again.

“We’re not holding hands. I’m absolutely firm on that.”

“Actually, I was planning to walk a couple steps behind you, so I could see how your ass moves in that thing.”

She laughed, but pulled him out with her. “Update on Renquist if you’re interested.”

“I am.”

“He’s trying for insanity-not unexpected. But he’s giving it a good shot. Using multiple personality disorder. One minute he’s Jack the Ripper, next he’s Son of Sam or John Wayne Gacy. Trips from that to DeSalvo or back to Jack.”

“Do you think it’s genuine?”

“Not for a minute, and Mira doesn’t buy it. He could pull it off though. His defense will hire plenty of shrinks that go along, and he’s good at the game. It may keep him from a cement cage and put him in a padded cell, on the mentally defective floor.”

“How would you feel about that?”

“I want the cage, but you don’t always get what you want. I’m going by the hospital after shift so I can tell Marlene Cox and her family what may happen.”

“I think they’ll be fine with it. They’re not soldiers, Eve,” he said when she looked at him. “They only want him put away, and you’ve done that. It’s payment enough for them, if not for you.”

“It has to be enough for me because it’s over. And there’ll be another to take his place. Knowing that drags some cops under.”

“Not my cop.”

“No.” What the hell, she took his hand anyway as they walked into the meeting room for the ceremony. “It pushes me over. You just find a seat, wherever. I have to be up on the stupid stage.”

He lifted her hand to his lips. “Congratulations, Lieutenant, on a job well done.”

She glanced over, as he did, to where Peabody stood with McNab in the front of the room. “She did it herself,” was all Eve said.

It pleased her to see that Commander Whitney had made time to officiate. She stepped onto the stage with him, took the hand he offered.

“Congratulations, Lieutenant, on your aide’s promotion.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“We’re going to start right away. We have twenty-seven promotions this session out of Central. Sixteen detective third grades, eight second grades, and three detective sergeants.” He smiled a little. “I don’t believe I’ve seen you in uniform since you made lieutenant.”

“No, sir.”

She stepped back with the other trainers, stood next to Feeney.

“One of my boys made second grade,” he told her. “Thought we’d have a celebration drink across the street after shift. Suit you?”

“Yeah, but the civilian’s going to want in. He’s soft on Peabody.”

“Fair enough. Here we go. Jack’ll give his standard speech. Thank God it’s him and not that putz Leroy who stands in for him when he can’t make it. Leroy’s got the trots of the tongue. Can’t stop it running.”

In her assigned seat, Peabody sat with her spine straight and her stomach doing cartwheels. She was terrified she’d burst into tears, as she had when she’d called home to tell her parents. It would be mortifying to cry now, but everything was so welled up, flooding her throat, that she was afraid when she opened her mouth to speak, it would all pour out.

Her ears were buzzing, so now she was afraid she wouldn’t hear her name called and would just sit there like an idiot. She concentrated on Eve, and how she stood cool and perfect at parade rest in her uniform.

When she’d seen her lieutenant walk in, in uniform, she’d nearly bawled then and there. She hadn’t been able to speak to her.

But buzzing or not, she heard her name in the commander’s big voice. Detective Third Grade Delia Peabody. And got to her feet. She couldn’t feel her knees, but somehow she was walking to the stage, up the side steps, and across it.

“Congratulations, Detective,” he said, and took her hand in his enormous one before he stepped back.

And there was Dallas, stepping forward. “Congratulations, Detective. Well done.” She held out the shield, and for a moment, just a flicker, there was a smile.

“Thank you, Lieutenant.”

Then Eve stepped back, and it was done.

All Peabody could think when she resumed her seat was that she hadn’t cried. She hadn’t cried and there was a detective’s shield in her hand.

She was still moving through a daze when the ceremony was done, and McNab rushed forward to lift her off her feet. And Roarke leaned over and-oh my God!-kissed her right on the mouth.

But she couldn’t find Eve. Through the congratulations and pats, on the back, the ribbing and the noise, she didn’t see Eve anywhere. Finally, still clutching her badge, she broke away.

When she trackedEve down in her office, her lieutenant was back in street clothes, at her desk, hunched over paperwork.

“Sir. You got out of there so fast.”

“I had things to do.”

“You were wearing your uniform.”

“Why does everybody say that like it’s cause for a national holiday? Listen, congratulations. I mean it. I’m proud of you, and glad for you. But fun time’s over, and I’ve got a shit-pile of paperwork.”

“Well, I’m going to take time to thank you, and that’s that. I wouldn’t have this if it wasn’t for you.” She kept the shield cupped in her hand as if it were the finest crystal. “Because you believed in me, you pushed me, and you taught me, I’ve got it.”

“That’s not entirely untrue.”Eve tipped the chair back, put the heel of one boot on the desk. “But if you hadn’t believed in yourself, pushed yourself, and learned, I wouldn’t have done you a damn bit of good. So you’re welcome, for what part I played in it. You’re a good cop,Peabody, and you’ll be a better one as time goes by. Now, the paperwork.”

Peabody’s vision was blurry, but she blinked back the tears. “I’ll get right on it, sir.”

“That’s not your job.”

“As your aide-”

“You’re no longer my aide. You’re a detective, and part of this paperwork I’m slogging through is your new assignment.”

The tears dried up, and the flush the excitement and joy had put in her cheeks drained away. “I don’t understand.”

“Detectives can’t be wasted as aides.”Eve spoke briskly. “You’ll be reassigned. I assume you’d prefer to stay in Homicide.”

“But… but God! Dallas, I never considered that I couldn’t stay-that we wouldn’t work together. I’d never have taken the damn exam if I’d known you’d have to boot me.”

“That’s a ridiculous thing to say, and shows a lack of respect for your shield. I can give you a short list of choices for your reassignment.”Eve flicked a key on the desk unit and had a spreadsheet coming up. “Or if you’re just going to whine about it, I’ll make the choice for you.”

“I wasn’t thinking, wasn’t expecting.” And now her stomach hurt all over again. “I can’t take it in. Couldn’t I at least take a few days to adjust? Continue as your aide until you make other arrangements? I could clear up the pending-”

“ Peabody, I don’t need an aide. I never needed an aide, and got along fine without one before I took you on. Now it’s time for you to move along.”

Eveturned back to her desk in a gesture of dismissal. With her lips pressed tightly together, Peabody nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Don’t need a damn aide,”Eve repeated. “Could use a partner, though.”

That stoppedPeabody in her tracks. “Sir?” she managed in a croak.

“If you’re interested, that is. And as the ranking officer, I’d still dump most of the shitwork on you. That’s the part I really like.”

“Partner? Your partner.” Peabody ’s lips trembled, and the tears won.

“Oh for God’s sake! Close the door if you’re going to blubber. Do you think I want the bullpen to hear crying in here? They might think it’s me.”

She sprang up, slammed the door herself, and then found herself caught in another ofPeabody ’s bear hugs.

“I take this as a yes.”

“This is the best day of my life.” Peabody stepped back, rubbed the tears off her cheeks. “The ult. I’m going to make you a hell of a partner.”

“I bet you will.”

“And I won’t do the hug and blubber thing except in extreme circumstances.”

“Good to know. Get out of here so I can finish my work. I’ll buy you a drink after shift.”

“No, sir. I’m buying.” She opened her hand, showedEve her badge. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

– -«»--«»--«»--

Alone,Eve sat at her desk again, then took out her own badge and studied it. Tucking it away again, she looked up at the ceiling. But this time, she smiled. It felt right. It felt exactly right.