Visions In Death

CHAPTER 3

"Well, now that I've got your attention…" Celina unhooked her fingers to press two to her right temple, as if to compress a pain. "Could I have some of that coffee?" Eve stayed where she was, sipping her own. They hadn't released the mutilation details to the media. But there were leaks, she knew. There were always leaks.

Her voice was shaky, and carried no accent. It was husky, a shade on the provocative side. "How did you get this information, Ms Sanchez?" "I saw it, and it's not an image I enjoyed." "You saw the victim in Central Park?" "Yes. But I wasn't in the park. I was in my home. I'm here to explain it to you. I'd really appreciate the coffee." Eve sent Peabody a brief nod. "You knew Elisa Maplewood?" "No. Before we go any further, I've never worked with the police. It's not what I do and not something I aspire to." She used her hands when she talked, lifting them, gesturing in a manner that told Eve it was habitual. Then she gripped them together in her lap as if to hold them still.

"I don't want to see what you see, Lieutenant. I don't want to live with those images in my head. Primarily, I do private consultations and parties. I'm not a lunatic or a glory-seeker, though from what Louise has told me about you, I imagine you think I am." "How do you know Louise Dimatto?" "We went to school together, and we've remained friendly since. Thanks." She took the cup of coffee Peabody handed her. "You're more open to extra-normal areas, Detective. Do you have sensitives in your family?" "Ah, I-" "Let's keep this about you," Eve interrupted.

"All right." Celina sampled the coffee, and smiled for the first time since she'd come into the room. "This is wonderful, and I can tell you, frankly, I need the jolt. I had a dream." "Uh-huh." Celina's smile only widened. "The snarkiness settles me down. Who knew? Louise also said I'd like you, Lieutenant Dallas. Oddly enough, I think she's probably right." "That's real nice. Can we stay on line here?" "Of course. In the dream I saw a woman. She was young, attractive, light brown hair, I think. Straight hair, just brushing her shoulders. It looked light brown in the streetlights. She came out of a building, leading a little white dog on a leash.

She was wearing jeans and a T-shirt. There was a doorman, and they exchanged a few words. I couldn't hear; I was too far away.

"She crossed the street wide street with the little dog prancing in front of her. In the dream, my heart started pounding with fear. I wanted to shout at her to go back, to go back inside the building, but I couldn't speak. I watched her take the dog into the park. She rubbed her arm, and I thought that she was thinking she should've tossed on a jacket. The nights are getting cooler. She'll go back for a jacket, and maybe it'll be all right. But she didn't." Celina's hands trembled again as she lifted the cup to her lips. "She kept walking, with the dog pulling on the leash.

The shadow fell over her, but she didn't see, she didn't know.

He came at her from behind. I couldn't see him, just shadows.

He'd been waiting, watching, as I'd been watching. Oh, I could feel his excitement, the madness of it, just as I could feel her fear. His was red, dark, vicious red, and hers silver.

Red shadows, silver light." The cup rattled as she set it aside. "This isn't what I do.

This isn't what I want." "You're here. Finish it." She'd lost all color, and her pale eyes were glassy. "He hit her, and the little dog ran away when he kicked at it. She tried to fight, but he was very strong. He hit her in the face, knocked her down. She tried to scream, but he kept hitting her. He kept…" Her breathing went shallow as she rubbed a hand over her heart. "He kicked her and hit her, and he dragged her deeper into the shadows. She lost a shoe. He wrapped a ribbon, a cord, around her neck. Red for power. Red for death. Tight.

She fought for air, she fought him, but he was too strong.

He tore at her clothes. Bitch, whore, cunt. Hating her, hating her, he raped her. Tightened the cord, tighter and tighter until she was still. Until she was dead." Tears tracked down Celina's cheeks. Her hands were back in her lap now, twisted together like wires. "He'd shown her what she was good for. Shown her who was in charge. But he wasn't done. He picked up her clothes, put them in a small bag. And he carried it, and her, deeper into the park.

He's strong, very strong. He takes care of himself. Who's more important, after all?" Her breath continued to hitch and jump. Her eyes stared.

"There's a castle, a castle on a lake. He's king of the castle.

He's king of everything. He slings her over his shoulder, climbs down the rocks. And he lays her out, very carefully.

She'll like it there. Maybe this time she'll stay."

Staring, Celina lifted her joined hands, pressed them between her breasts. "Rest in peace, whore. And he cuts out her eyes. God, God, he cuts out her eyes and puts them in a little pouch, and the pouch into the bag. There's blood running down her face. Blood on his hands. And he, he leans down and kisses her. I woke up, I woke up from the dream with the chill of that bloody mouth on mine." Eve's wrist unit beeped, and had Celina jolting.

"What did you do?" Eve asked her.

"What did I… Well, after I finished shaking, I took a tranq. I told myself it was a nightmare. I know better, but I wanted it to be a nightmare, not a vision. My gift has never taken me anywhere so dark, and I was afraid. I took a tranq and used it to block it out. Cowardly, but I don't claim to be brave. I don't want to be brave, not about something like this." She picked up her coffee again. "But this morning, I turned on the screen. I tend to avoid the news channels, but I was compelled to check. I had to know. And I saw the report.

They ran her picture the pretty woman with the light brown hair. They said her name. I didn't want to come here. Most of the police are born skeptics. It's why you are what you are. But I had to come." "You say you saw in this vision the victim. But you didn't see her attacker?" "I saw… his essence, you could say. I saw a form." Her throat worked as she swallowed. "It frightened me, more than I've ever been frightened in my life. And, frankly, I wasn't going to come here. I was going to try to put it away. Knowing that about myself made me feel small and ugly." She lifted a hand, toyed with a chain around her neck. Her nails were painted a deep and shiny red, with the half moons picked out in vibrant white. "So I came to you, because Louise has spoken of you. And I'll try to help."

"How do you intend to help?" "I might see more if I had something of his, something he'd touched. I don't know." A flicker of irritation ran over her face. This isn't my field. It's new ground for me, and you're not making this any easier." "It's not my job to make it easy, Ms Sanchez. It's my job to investigate." "Well then, investigate me all you want," she shot out. "I can only tell you what I know. I know the man who did this is big, or thinks of himself that way. I know he's strong. Very strong. I know he's mad. And I know this woman, Elisa Maplewood, wasn't his first. He's done it before. He doesn't intend for her to be his last." "How do you know?" "I can't tell you so that you'd understand." She leaned forward now, urgently. "It's what I felt from him. He hated her, and the hatred thrills and frightens him. Hate and fear, hate and fear. Those are paramount. He's hated all of them, and feared all of them. I don't know why I saw her, saw him. Maybe she and I were connected in some other life, or will be in one to come. But I'm afraid. I'm more afraid than I've ever been, that I'm connected, somehow, to him. I need to help you stop him because I think I'll go mad myself if I don't." "And your fee?" Celina's lips twisted into a tense smile. "I'm very expensive, and well worth it. But I would do this pro bono. With one provision." "Which is?" "I don't want, under any circumstances, my name released to the media. I don't want anyone to know, beyond those who are absolutely necessary, that I'm involved. Not only because it's the sort of publicity I'd find irritating, not only because it's the sort of exposure that would generate an interest in the sort of clientele I avoid, but because I'm afraid of him." "We'll let you know. Thank you for coming in." On a half laugh, Celina got to her feet. "Are you always so hard?" "You tell me. You're the psychic." "I don't read minds." Celina's tone took on an edge as she tossed her hair back. "And I don't read people without their permission." "I can promise you, you'll never get mine. I've got a job to do, Ms Sanchez. I'll add what you've told us and your offer into the mix. We'll be in touch." "Looks like Louise was wrong after all. I don't like you." She strode out.

"Well gee, she didn't have to go and hurt my feelings." "You were a little rough on her," Peabody commented. "You didn't believe her?" "I didn't say that. My verdict on her is reserved until we check her out. Run her." "Sir, she can't be licensed if she's got a sheet." "She can't be licensed if she's been convicted," Eve corrected, and headed out. "Run her. Thoroughly. And track down Louise Dimatto. I want to see what she has to say." "Good thinking. Which, of course, goes without saying," Peabody added when Eve sent her a cool look. "If she checks out, will you use her?" "I'd use a two-headed talking monkey if it helped nail this guy. But right now, let's just do our tedious cop business in our tedious cop way."

The morgue was her first stop. She could count on Chief Medical Examiner Morris to do the job, give her the data she needed, without a lot of bureaucratic bullshit attached.

She found him in autopsy, with his protective gear over a steel blue three-piece suit. On closer look, she saw the vest was decorated with abstract line drawings of naked women.

Morris wasn't considered a fashion plate without cause.

His long, dark hair was drawn back in a glossy braid that hung neatly between his shoulder blades. He still carried his vacation tan. At the moment, his sealed hands were smeared with blood and bodily fluids. He hummed a jaunty tune under his breath as he worked.

He glanced over when Eve and Peabody entered, and behind his goggles, his long, dark eyes smiled.

"You nearly cost me twenty." "How'd I do that?" "I bet Foster you'd be in before eleven. You cut it close." "I got hung up by a psychic. What's your stand on that kind of thing?" "I believe we're all born with innate gifts, skills, potentials, and some of those gifts are not easily explained. I also believe ninety percent of those who claim to see are dirty rotten liars." "I'd up the last part a couple of percentage points, but that's about my take, too." She looked down at the body now.

"What do you see?" "A very unlucky young woman who, depending on your personal philosophies, no longer sees anything, or now sees everything. Severe trauma," he began. "Premortem. He wailed on her, Dallas. Sexual assault with none of his fluids left behind. He'd sealed up for the rape. Strangulation, cause of death. The ribbon's your murder weapon. Mutilation was postmortem. Clean cuts. Somebody's been practicing." "How clean? Surgically?" "If he's a doctor a cutter he didn't graduate top of his class. I'd say he used a laser scalpel and with good skill, but not exceptional skill. Several little jags." He gestured to a second pair of microgoggles. "Want to see?"

Saying nothing, Eve fit on the goggles, leaned over the body with Morris.

"See here? Here?" He nodded to the screen where the wounds were magnified so Peabody could study them as well. "Not precise. Little tremors in the hand, I'd say. And I found fluid. He nicked the left eyeball a bit, though we'll have Dickhead confirm that in the lab." "Okay." "I haven't found any trace of him on her. Grass, dirt, a few strands of hair, none of it human. You'll want Dickhead on that. Some could be canine, but that's a guess since she was a dog owner. All the blood's hers." "That's too damn bad. Fibers?" "A few, under her nails, on her person. She didn't go down easy. They're off to the lab, but I'd make them as cloth, most are likely from her own clothes. Some are probably from his shirt as there's some sealant on them, too." Eve straightened, pulled off the goggles. "You see anything like this before?" "From my lofty height, Dallas, you see every damn thing.

But this precisely, no. You?" "Not all the elements together." But her gut told her she'd see them again.

She's clean, Dallas. Sanchez. No arrests, no criminal." Peabody studied the readout as Eve drove uptown. "You want to hear the deal?" "The highlights." "DOB, February 3, 2026, Madison, Wisconsin. Brrr. Both parents living, in Cancun. That's more like it! No sibs. Private schools all the way. No marriage. One cohab, three-year stint that ended about fourteen months ago. No children.

Registered and licensed as sensitive. Self-employed." "How long's she had the license?"

"Fifteen years. Totally clean on it. A few civil suits brought against her, all judgment in favor of defendant. That's pretty normal for working psychics. People get pissed that something didn't work out the way they wanted, and they sue." "People sue the clouds if it rains on their picnic." "She does a lot of corporate work. Parties, conventions.

Private consults. Makes a damn good living at it. About seven, eight times that of your lowly homicide detective. Resided current Soho address for twelve years. Also has a residence in Oyster Bay. Nice. Sounds legit to me." "Uh-huh. You track down Louise?" "She's at the shelter today." "Oh." Eve had been hoping for the Canal Street Clinic.

She'd yet to make a personal appearance at the women's shelter Roarke had founded. "We take the vic's residence first. If we clear enough time, we'll go by, talk to Louise." "I've been wanting to see Dachas for myself," Peabody commented. "Charles says Louise is really juiced about it." "You talk to Charles?" "Sure, now and then." As Charles, a professional and licensed companion, was Louise's guy, and had been Peabody's guy, minus sexual fun, it just struck Eve as weird.

But the ins and outs of relationships always struck her as weird. Her own included.

"Any luck with the ribbon?" "If you call the fact that more than thirty retail outlets carry it in the borough of Manhattan alone luck, then yeah. Got the manufacturers, the distributors. It's a pretty common item, Dallas, in craft stores, party stores. Some of the better department stores carry it in their gift wrap department. It's going to be tough to find his source." "If it was easy, everybody would be cops."

– -**--

It was far from easy to question Deann Vanderlea again. The woman looked exhausted, ill, and weighed down with worry and grief.

Tm sorry we have to intrude." "It's all right. Luther, my husband, he's been delayed. Air traffic. I'd do better if he were here. I couldn't do much worse." She gestured toward chairs in the living area. The lounging robe had been replaced with slouchy black pants and a white, oversized shirt, but her hair was still tousled, her feet still bare.

"I haven't slept, and I'm holding on by the fingernails at this point. Do you have any news? Did you find the man who did this?" "No. The investigation is ongoing, and we're using all resources." "It was too much to hope for." She looked around, distractedly.

"I should make coffee, or tea. Or something." "Don't trouble yourself." Peabody spoke gently, a tone Eve never quite managed with the same ease. "If you'd like something, I'd be happy to get it for you." "No. Thank you, no. Vonnie she's sleeping again. She and Zanna. I don't know if she understands, really understands, her mother's not coming back. She cried. Cried and cried. We all did. She fell asleep, worn out from it, and I put her back to bed. Zanna, too. I put them together, so neither of them would wake alone." "She'll need counseling, Mrs Vanderlea." "Yes." Deann nodded at Peabody. "I've already made calls.

I'm making arrangements. I want, I need… God. Luther and I, we want to make arrangements for Elisa. For her memorial.

I'm not sure who I need to speak with about it, or how soon, or… I need to keep doing." A shudder ran through her.

"I'm all right as long as I keep doing something."

"We'll put someone in touch with you," Eve told her.

"Good. I've called our lawyers as well, to arrange for emergency custody of Vonnie. To start proceedings to make it permanent as soon as we can. She's not going to be ripped away from the only home she's ever known. I've spoken with Elisa's parents well, her mother and stepfather. Her mother-" Her voice broke again, and she shook her head fiercely as if to deny herself the luxury. "They're corning here later today, so we can sit down and talk about what's best.

Somehow." "Elisa would be grateful that you're taking care of her daughter. She'd be grateful you're helping us do our job." "Yes." Deann squared her shoulders at Eve's words. "I hope so." "What do you know about Abel Maplewood? Elisa's father." "A difficult man, in my opinion. But he and Elisa managed to maintain a good relationship. I haven't been able to reach him to tell him. He's out West somewhere. Omaha, Idaho, Utah… I'm so scattered." She dragged both hands through her hair. "He's been out there a week or so, visiting his brother, I think. Probably sponging off him, to be frank. Elisa was always slipping him money. Her mother's going to try to reach him today." "It would help if we had his whereabouts. Just routine." "I'll see you get the information. And I know you need to look in her rooms. I put the girls in Zanna's room, so they won't be disturbed." She started to rise, but Peabody put a hand to her shoulder.

"Why don't you stay here, try to rest. We know where her rooms are." They left her there. "Record on, Peabody." They stepped into a small, cheerful sitting room done in bold colors. There were a few toys scattered around, and a little basket with a red cushion Eve assumed was a kind of bed for the dog.

She moved through it, and into Elisa's bedroom. "Make a note to have EDD check out her "links, her data units." She went to the dresser first, began to go through drawers.

She already had a sense of a settled, content, hardworking woman. The search of her quarters did nothing to change that. There were a number of framed photographs, most of the child. There were flowers and the little trinkets women enjoyed having around.

Her wardrobe was casual, with two good suits, two pair of good shoes. There was nothing in it that spoke of a man.

She checked the bedside "link herself, pulled up the last incoming. It was from her mother, a chatty, affectionate conversation that included the child toward the end when the little girl ran into the room and babbled away at her gamma.

"Dallas, I think I found something." Peabody held up another basket. This was in the cupboard under the sitting room entertainment screen.

"What is it?" "A craft basket. Handwork stuff. She did crafts." Peabody held up a skein of ribbon. It wasn't red, but it was the same basic type as what had killed her.

Eve stepped forward to take it just as a little girl came into the sitting room. She was tiny, with curly hair so blonde it was nearly white spilling around a pretty, chubby-cheeked face. She was knuckling her eyes.

"That's my mommy's. You're not supposed to touch Mommy's sewing basket, "less she says." "Ah…" "I'll take her," Peabody murmured, and handing off the basket to Eve, crouched down to child level. "Hi, are you Vonnie?"

The child hunched her shoulders. "Not supposed to speak to strangers." "That's right, but it's okay to talk to the police, isn't it?" Peabody took out her badge, gave it to the little girl. "Did your mommy tell you about the police?" "They help people and catch bad guys." "That's right. I'm Detective Peabody, and this is Lieutenant Dallas." "Whatsa Loonat?" "It's a job," Peabody said without missing a beat. "It means she's a policeman who catches lots of bad guys." "Okay. I can't find my mommy. Aunt Deann's sleeping.

Can you find my mommy?" Peabody's eyes met Eve's over the little girl's head. "Why don't we go find your aunt Deann?" Peabody suggested.

"She's sleeping." Her voice spiked, her lips began to tremble. "She said a bad man hurt my mommy and she can't come home. I want my mommy to come home now." "Vonnie-" But she shook Peabody off, planted herself in front of Eve.

"Did a bad man hurt my mommy?" "You should come with me now, Vonnie." "I want her to say." She pointed her little finger at Eve, poked out her bottom lip. "She's the Loonat." Jesus, Eve thought. Oh, Jesus. She jerked her head, signaling Peabody to get Deann, then she sucked it in, crouched as Peabody had. "Yes. I'm sorry." "Why?" "I don't know." Tears were gathering in big eyes the color of bluebells.

"Did she go to the doctor?" Eve thought of Morris, the steel table, the cold, clear lights of the morgue. "Not exactly."

"Doctors make you better. She should go to the doctor. If she can't come home, can you take me to her?" "I can't. She's… she's in a place we can't go. All I can do is find the person who hurt her, so he can be punished." "He'll have to stay in his room?" "Yeah, so he can't ever hurt anyone else." "Then she can come home?" Eve looked over, helpless and weak with relief when Deann rushed in. "Vonnie. Come with me, baby." "I want Mommy." "I know, baby. I know." Deann gathered her up, snuggled her in as the child began to weep on her shoulder. "I fell asleep. I'm sorry." "I know it's hard. I know it's bad timing all around. I need to ask you where she got the supplies in this basket." "Her sewing basket? Here and there. She loved to make things. I went with her a few times. She tried to teach me, but I was hopeless. There was a place on Third ah, God um, Sew What. And a big supply house downtown, near Union Square. Total Crafts, I think. And the one at the Sky Mall. I'm sorry." She rocked back and forth on her heels, stroking Vonnie's hair. "She'd go in to a shop if she was passing, rarely came out empty-handed." "Would you know where she bought this, specifically?" Eve held up the ribbon.

"No, I don't." Tm going to arrange for her data and communication equipment to be taken in. Would all her transactions and transmissions have been made and received by the ones in these rooms?" "She might have called her mother, say, from one of the other "links. But she did all her personal work on her own unit. I need to settle Vonnie down."

"Go ahead." Eve studied the ribbon. "It's a good lead," Peabody said.

"It's a lead." She put the ribbon in her evidence bag. "Let's run it down." The main door of the penthouse opened as Eve walked back into the living area. The man who entered had a shock of gold hair, a pale, tired face. She saw Deann spring up from the couch where she was holding Vonnie, and with the child still in her arms, leap toward him.

"Luther. Oh, God, Luther." "Deann." He enfolded both of them, dropped his head to his wife's shoulder. "It's not a mistake?" She shook her head, and let go with the weeping Eve imagined she'd been holding in for hours.

"I'm sorry to intrude. I'm Lieutenant Dallas." He lifted his head. "Yes. Yes, I recognize you. Deann? Sweetheart, take Vonnie in the bedroom." He kissed them both, and let them go.

"I'm very sorry for your loss, Mr Vanderlea." "Luther. Please. What can I do? Is there something I should do?" "It would help if you answered a few questions." "Yes. All right." He looked in the direction his wife had gone. "I couldn't get here sooner. It seemed to take forever to get home. Deann told me… I'm still not clear. Elisa he went out to walk the dog, and she was… Deann said she was raped and murdered. Raped and murdered right over in the park." "Would she have told you if she was being bothered by anyone, if she was concerned about anything?" "Yes." He said it without hesitation. "If not me, certainly she would have told Deann. They were very close. We…

We're family." He sat, let his head fall back.

"Were you and Ms Maplewood close?"

"You're asking me if Elisa and I had a sexual relationship.

I wondered if you would, and told myself not to be insulted.

I'm trying not to be. I don't cheat on my wife, Lieutenant.

I certainly wouldn't take advantage of a very vulnerable woman in my employ, a woman I liked very much, a woman who worked very hard to give her child a good life." "I don't ask to offend you. Why do you characterize Ms Maplewood as vulnerable?" He pinched the bridge of his nose, dropped his hand. "She was a single parent who had been misused by her husband, who was dependent on me for her salary, for the roof over her head, come to that. Not that she couldn't have found other employment. She knew how to work. But she might not have found a situation that allowed her child to grow up in a home like this, with a playmate, with people who loved her. Vonnie's welfare was first for Elisa."

"Was she threatened by her ex-husband?" He smiled, humorlessly. "Not anymore. She was a strong woman, who'd put him where he belonged. In the past." "Do you know of anyone who'd want to hurt her?" "Absolutely no one. That's the God's truth. I can't resign myself, not fully, to the fact that anyone did. I know you have a job to do, but so do I. My wife needs me, the children need me. Can we do whatever else needs to be done later?" "Yes. I want to take this." She pulled out the roll of ribbon.

"I can give you a receipt." "Not necessary." He pushed to his feet, rubbed his hands over his face. "I've heard you're good at your job." "I am good at it." "I'm depending on you." He offered his hand. "We all are."

They hit crafts stores, crisscrossing Manhattan on the way downtown. Eve had no idea there was so much involved in the making of so many things easily available readymade.

When she expressed the opinion, Peabody smiled and fingered some brightly colored thread sold in hanks.

"There's a lot of satisfaction in making something yourself.

Picking the colors, the materials, the pattern.

Individualizing it, and seeing it come to life." "You say so." "A lot of craftsmen and artisans in my family. Goes with the whole Free-Ager philosophy. I'm pretty handy myself, but I don't have a lot of time for it. I still have the tea cozy my grandmother helped me crochet when I was ten." "I don't even know what that is." "What, the tea cozy or crocheting?" "Either, and I find I have no interest in finding out." She studied the shelves and displays, full of supplies and finished products. "A lot of the clerks we've talked to remember Maplewood. Don't see a lot of men in these joints." "Needlework remains primarily the work and/or hobby of the female. Too bad. It can be very relaxing. My uncle Jonas knits up a storm and claims it's one of the reasons he's a healthy, vital one hundred and six. Or seven. Maybe it's eight." Eve didn't bother to respond but headed out of the shop.

"Nobody, thus far, remembers any man bothering Elisa or any other customer for that matter. Nobody asking questions about her, loitering around. Same kind of ribbon. There has to be a connection." "He could've bought it anywhere, any time. He might've seen her in one of the stores, then gone back later to buy his own. You know, they have these craft fairs, too. He could've bumped into her at one of those. I bet she'd go to the fairs, maybe take the kids." "That's a good line. Check it out with the Vanderleas." She stood on the sidewalk, thumbs in front pockets, fingers tapping idly on her hips as people streamed or trudged around her. "Do that later. They need some space. We're only a few blocks from the shelter. We'll ask Louise about the witch." "Sensitives aren't necessarily witches, just as witches aren't necessarily sensitives. Hey, a glide-cart!" "Wait, wait!" Eve pressed a hand to her temple, stared at the sky. "I'm getting a vision. It's you stuffing a soy dog in your mouth." "I was going to go for the fruit kabob and perhaps a small, walkaway salad. But now you've put the damn dog in my head and I have to have it." "I knew that. Get me some fries, tube of Pepsi." "I knew that," Peabody replied. But she was too happy with the idea she'd actually get lunch to complain about paying for it.