Visions In Death

CHAPTER 7

"She's really interesting." Peabody waited a beat, then slid her gaze toward Eve as they cut west, then south toward Central. "Don't you think?" "She's not a yawn. But tell me, in specifics, what did we get from this?" "Okay, not a lot that we didn't already know or believe or suspect." Peabody shifted in her seat and regretted the tea. Now she had to pee, and she knew damn well Eve wouldn't stop at a handy restaurant where the flash of a badge would get her toilet privileges. She crossed her legs tight, and tried to concentrate.

"Still, the fact is it's interesting to consult with a sensitive, one as obviously gifted as Celina. I am dependable and loyal, after all." "Just like the family schnauzer." "I prefer cocker spaniel "cause they've got those cute, floppy ears." She recrossed her legs. "And, in my experience, if a sensitive's made this sort of connection, they can get more if they focus and keep open. I think she will. She's hooked in, and wants to see it through." Eve glanced in the rearview at the blast of siren. She recognized the subtle difference in tone and identified an emergency medical vehicle an instant before the spinning red light of the medical tech wagon came into view.

She eased toward the curb, and the rat trap she was currently stuck with driving vibrated like gelatin in the wake of the speeding wagon.

"I want you to call Requisitions, the minute we get back to Central. Beg, bribe, threaten, offer sexual favors of any nature, but get us a decent ride by the end of shift." Peabody had her teeth clenched and did her best to speak through them. "Who's going to perform the sexual favors, should it come to that?" "You, Detective. I outrank you." The sacrifices I make for the badge." "Health clubs." "What?" "We're going to start checking out health clubs." "Sir, I don't think I can tone up appreciably before dispensing sexual favors if you want the vehicle by end of shift." "Jesus, Peabody, get your face out of the gutter." "Well, you put it there." Eve jockeyed through traffic. "Let us return to our sworn duty and our current investigation. If we're after a solo and there's no evidence to lead us to suspect this was a duet or gang killing this is one strong son of a bitch. Not just in shape, not muscle-bound, but a seriously strong guy.

Guy who can carry one-thirty the distance from the kill site to the dump site, and haul that much deadweight down a small cliff of rocks, probably works out regularly and seriously." "Could have his own equipment. Somebody really serious usually does." "And we're going to try tracking that, too. Full-scale home gyms to start. But if we're going to use what the psychic queen gives us, she said he was proud proud of his body.

He'd want to show it off, wouldn't he? Show what he can do." "Health club." "Health club." "Dallas, just offhand, would you care to guess how many health clubs we have in our fair city?" "We start with ones who cater primarily to men. He doesn't like women. So you scratch off the girly gyms where ladies prance around in their skin-suits and drink veggie juice or nibble nutribars before their massage. No day spa attached, no salons on premises. Forget the social clubs where guys go to play on the machines and pick up dates. Scratch off the facilities that cater primarily to same-sex orientation. The gay pickup cathedrals. We look for traditional, serious bodybuilder spots. The kind that pull in the sweaty guys with big necks." "Oooh. Sweaty guys with big necks. Hubba. Lifting face out of gutter immediately, sir." "Too late now," Eve muttered. "We can try another canvass of the victim's neighborhood. This guy surveilled her, got her routine. We go at it asking about an unusually tall, beefy guy. After you tackle Requisitions, contact the Vanderleas.

See if either of them remembers seeing someone like that around." "Check." Just a few more blocks, Peabody thought. Then she'd be able to pee. She squirmed, crossed her legs the other way.

"We run down home gym equipment: weight machines, virtual systems with bodybuilding programs. We check out subscriptions to magazines that Squirming isn't going to help, you know. You shouldn't have downed all that tea." "It's really nice of you to point that out now," Peabody shot back with some bitterness. "And squirming does too help.

Oh, thank all the gods and goddesses," she breathed when they drove into Central's garage.

Tree-Ageism pop out when your bladder's full, Detective?" "That's not all that's going to pop out." Peabody bolted from the car the instant it stopped, and ran/waddled to the elevator.

In her office, Eve glanced at her "link, noted several messages. She ordered them to play while she set up a murder board for Elisa Maplewood.

As they ran, she ordered some to delete, some to save.

Then stopped what she was doing to turn around and grin at the screen as Mavis came on.

"Hey, Dallas! We're back in town, my honey lamb and me.

Maui is just iced. Totally TPD tropical paradise deluxe.

Everything was mag. The concert, our roll-on-the-sand-naked vacation part. And guess what? The belly's completely poking out now. Honest to God, I am so knocked up. You gotta see. I'll jet by, soon as I can." Which was always a treat, Eve thought when the message ended. But if Mavis's belly really was poking out now, she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to see. Why pregnant women wanted anybody to see their poked-out bellies was another mystery, and one she had no desire to solve.

She turned to the AutoChef for coffee when Nadine Furst, Channel 75's on-air ace, clicked on.

"Dallas. I know you're going to give me the usual yaddahaddah blah, but I really want to talk to you re the Maplewood case. If I don't hear from you, I'm just going to show up at your office. I'll bring you a cookie." Eve considered. It might be smart to give a short on-air, especially with the bribe of baked goods. A brief one-on-one, and woman-to-woman. His profile indicated he hated and feared the female, so wouldn't it burn his ass to be discussed on screen by two women? It might push him into making a mistake.

She'd think about it.

The thought of cookies made her hungry. With a glance at the door, she reached behind the AutoChef, under the slight lip, and tugged off the candy bar she'd taped there.

It was an obvious hiding place to her mind, but it had foiled the insidious candy thief who plagued her.

She bit righteously into chocolate, dropped down at her desk, and engaged her computer.

Your authorization code and password are not recognized.

Access denied.

"What the hell are you talking about?" She gave the machine a quick boot with the heel of her hand. "Dallas, Lieutenant Eve." She read off her badge number for authorization, repeated her password.

The computer gave a cheerful little beep, then a long grinding buzz. The screen flickered.

"Don't you start on me. First my vehicle, now this. Don't you even start."

Acknowledged. Operations shutting down.

"No! Damn it, you bitch, you son of a bitching bastard whore, you know that's not what I meant." She smacked it again, set her teeth, and repeated the start-up process.

After a series of mechanical hiccups, it hummed.

That's better. Okay. Open case file 39921SH.

Maplewood."

Acknowledged.

What flashed on-screen wasn't a case file. It wasn't police business unless the various naked couples writhing in athletic and impressive positions were a bunch of Vice cops undercover at an orgy.

Welcome to Fanta-Cee! Your virtual garden of sexual pleasure.

You must be twenty-one to enter. Your debit account will be charged at the rate of ten dollars per minute during your one-week trial membership.

"Mother of God. Computer, close and delete current area." Incomplete command.

"Like hell. Close this file." Acknowledged.

The cavorting figures disappeared.

"Now you listen to me. This is Dallas, Lieutenant Eve. I own you. I want case file 39921-SH, and I want it now." The screen jumped, filled with text. In what was possibly Italian.

The sound Eve made was somewhere between a scream and a bellow. She rapped the machine with her hand, punched it with her fist, and considered just ripping it out of the network and tossing it out her window.

Maybe, just maybe if her luck was in, there'd be a Maintenance guy strolling by under it. Two birds, one stone.

As satisfying as that would be, she calculated she could expect a replacement unit sometime near the end of the current century.

She swung to her "link, intending to contact Maintenance and ream whoever was unfortunate enough to answer.

"And where will that get you, Dallas?" she asked herself.

"Those puss-faced jerks in Maintenance, they live for moments like this. They'll sit around down there and laugh and laugh until you're forced to go down and kill every last one of them and spend the rest of your life in a cage." She punched the computer again, just for the hell of it.

And inspired, tried another angle.

"EDO. McNab. Hey, Dallas!" Peabody's main squeeze grinned at her from her "link screen. His narrow, pretty face was surrounded by bright blond hair that sported a couple of skinny temple braids.

"I was just about to shoot you the report on the e-work." "Don't bother. My unit's funky. It's giving me grief, McNab. How about doing me a favor and taking a look at it?" "You call Maintenance?" When she merely growled, he gave a heh-heh-heh sort of laugh.

"Delete that. I can give you thirty in about fifteen." "Good." "Or if you officially requested I report to your office at once, to bring you a disc and hard copy of the e-work, I could come now." "Consider yourself officially requested." "Allying op." "What?" But he'd already broken transmission.

Annoyed, she dug out her pocket unit and set to work trying to transfer the data she wanted from the desk unit to the PPC. She wasn't an e-geek, but she wasn't stupid, she told herself. She knew how to handle basic tech.

She was pulling her hair when McNab bopped in. He was wearing a purple shirt with a green placket down the center. It reached the thighs of baggy green pants with purple racing stripes. Both colors were picked up in his checked airsneaks.

"E-Man to the rescue," he announced. Today's complement of silver ear hoops dangled with purple and green beads.

"What seems to be the problem?" "If I knew the problem, I'd have fixed it myself." "Right." He dumped a little silver toolbox on her desk, plopped into her chair. Rubbed his hands together. "Wow.

Chocolate." He widened his grin, wiggled his brows.

"Shit. Go ahead. Consider it payment in advance." "Uptown!" "What?" "Uptown." He bit into the candy. "You know, like… excellent.

Let's have a look. I'll just open it for a standard diagnostic." He gave a series of commands that might as well have been in Venutian to Eve's ears. A lot of codes and symbols and strange little shapes spilled on-screen, and the computer's voice responded in a kind of gasping croak.

"See! See!" Eve sprang to lean over McNab's shoulder.

That's not right, is it? That's not good." "Well, hrnmm. Just let me-" "It's sabotage, isn't it?" "You expecting sabotage?" "You don't expect sabotage. That's why it's sabotage." "There's a point. I need to look around some. Why don't you, ah, take a break maybe." "You want me to leave my own office?" He gave her a pained look. "Lieutenant." "Okay, okay." She stuffed her hands in her pockets. "I'll be in the bull pen." She heard his long, relieved sigh as she strode out.

She marched straight to Peabody's desk.

"Comp woes?" Peabody asked. "McNab stopped by for a second on his way in to you." "They sabotaged it." "Who are they?"

"If I knew who they were, I'd hunt them down and peel the skin off their bones while they begged for mercy." "Uh-huh. Okay, so I got a hold of Deann Vanderlea.

Somebody found the puppy." "Huh. The dog?" "Yeah, Mignon. She was nearly on the other side of the park, and a couple joggers found her, checked her collar ID.

They brought her back." "Was it injured?" "No, just scared. Having the pup back will give them a little comfort. Anyway, she and her husband and the vie all used Total Health Fitness and Beauty for workouts and such, by the way. Not the kind of spot we're looking for as regards the killer's habits." "It was good to check." "She doesn't remember seeing anyone suspicious around the neighborhood. Doesn't recall noticing a big guy at any point, but she's going to ask her husband and some of her neighbors. The doorman." "We'll canvass again anyway." "Yeah. Father's out of the picture. Alibied by a couple thousand miles, and he doesn't fit the physical type we're after." "He'd have been too easy. How about my vehicle?" "I've got a line on that. Give me a little time." "Everybody wants time today. Let's do a search on the health clubs. Manhattan-based to start." Eve watched, with some irritation as Peabody's unit responded smoothly to her commands.

"How come the detectives and uniforms in this division have better equipment than I do? I'm the boss." "You know, there's a theory that some people have a kind of mechanical…" The term deficiency sprang to Peabody's mind, but she was too concerned with her own health and safety to speak it. "Like an infection or something. And it affects the machines they operate." "That's bullshit. I don't have any trouble with my home equipment." "Just a theory," Peabody said, and hunched her shoulders.

"Do you have to lurk there while this is running?" "I have to lurk somewhere." Disgusted, Eve strode out.

She'd get a tube of Pepsi, that's what she'd do. She'd cool off with a drink, then go back and hassle McNab.

She wanted to sit in her own damn office and do her own damn job. Was that too much to ask? She approached a vending machine, then just stood there, staring at it resentfully. It would probably spit the Pepsi all over her, or send her some health drink just for spite.

"Hey, you." She signaled to a passing uniform, then dug out credits.

"Get me a tube of Pepsi." The uniform looked down at the credits Eve dumped in her hand. "Ah, sure, Lieutenant." The credits were plugged in; the machine responded with a cheerful and polite announcement of the selection and its contents. The tube slid quietly out of the slot.

"Here you go." "Thanks." Satisfied, Eve drank as she walked back toward the bull pen. That's how she'd handle this deal, she decided. She'd have other people screw with the machines whenever possible. She was rank, after all. She was supposed to delegate.

"Lieutenant?" McNab signaled her, and though she tried not to see it, watched him purse his lips toward Peabody.

"No kissy faces in Homicide, Detective. Is my unit up and running?" "Good news, bad news. How about the bad first?" He gave her a come-with-me head signal and went back to her office.

"Bad news. You got a dink system here." "It was working fine before." "Yeah, well, see it's got some internal problems. That's the easiest way to explain it. Some of its guts, we'll say, were designed with planned obsolescence in mind. Only so many operating hours before they start to fail." "Why would anybody build something that's programmed to fail?" "So they can sell new ones?" Because she looked like she needed it, he risked patting her shoulder. "Administration and Requisitions buy cheap most times, I guess." "Bastards." "Absolutely. But the good news is I've got it up for you.

Replaced some things. It's not going to last more than a few days the way you use it. But I can get my hands on some parts. I've got connections. I can basically rebuild it for you.

Meanwhile, if you could try not to smack it around, it should hold." "Okay, thanks. I appreciate the quick work." "No prob. I'm a genius. See you tomorrow night, right?" "Tomorrow night?" "Dinner? Louise and Charles?" "Right. Right. Don't blow kisses in my bull pen," she called when he pranced out.

She sat, drank Pepsi, and stared at the machine. Dared it to give her trouble. Since Peabody was running Manhattan, Eve decided to expand to the Bronx for gyms.

The machine responded to her search request as if nothing had ever happened between them. It gave her enough confidence to turn her back on it while the search ensued, and study her board.

"Where'd he see you, Elisa?" she asked aloud. "Where did you come into his radar? He saw you, and something about you clicked in that sick mind of his. So he watched you and studied you and laid in wait for you." A domestic. A single parent. Liked to make things with her hands. Divorced. Abusive husband.

She didn't need the file to remember the details on Elisa Maplewood.

Early thirties, slightly less than average height, average build. Light brown hair, long. Pretty face.

Standard education, lower-middle-class upbringing. Native New Yorker.

Liked nice clothes in simple styles. Nothing too trendy, nothing too provocative. No current personal partner or romantic entanglement. Minimal social life.

Where did he see you? The park? Take the kids to the park. Walk the dog. The shops? Buy your craft supplies, window shop.

She grabbed the hard copy of the report McNab had left on her desk. "Link transmissions to her parents, to Deann's pocket unit, to Luther's office, to the craft store on Third to check on an order. Incomings ran along the same lines.

Her web activity ran to parenting sites, craft sites, and chat rooms. Downloads of magazines showed crafts again, parenting again, and some home decorating stuff, some online shopping. Downloads of a couple books tagged as current bestsellers.

Nothing popped from the search of the Vanderleas" equipment.

Chat room might be worth checking out, she thought, and made a note of it. But it was tough for her to see this big, muscular guy knitting… whatever people knit. More than that, Elisa struck her as being too sensible, too savvy to give personal information to anyone in a chat room. He hadn't tracked her through her discussions on making blankets or the like.

He's done it before.

She thought of Celina's words. And she agreed with them.

What he'd done to Elisa had been well planned and well executed under risky conditions. Quick and efficient, and to Eve that meant practice.

She hadn't hit all the elements with her search for similar crimes. Maybe he'd added or adjusted. Maybe one or more of those hits had been his work.

Pride. Celina had spoken of his pride. She wasn't sure she liked depending so heavily on the opinion of a psychic, but it was another point she agreed with. There'd been pride, arrogant pride, in the way he'd displayed his victim.

Look at what I've done, what I can do. In the city's great park, so close to the home of the wealthy and privileged.

Yeah, he was proud of his work. And what did a man with pride in his work do when that work didn't reach the standards he wanted? He buried the mistakes.

Her blood began to hum. It was the right track. She knew it. And she swung back to her machine. She saved and filed the results of her initial search, then brought up Missing Persons.

She started with a twelve-month search, stuck with Manhattan, and keyed in Elisa's basic description to narrow the parameters.

"Dallas-" "Wait." Attention focused on her screen, Eve shot up a hand to stop Peabody. "He had to practice. He had to. Guy builds his body up, stays strong and fit, it takes discipline. Takes practice. He lives and walks and exists day after day, holding in that kind of rage, it takes discipline, it takes willpower.

But you have to let it out some time, you have to let go. You have to kill. So you practice until you get it just right."

Search complete. Two results that match parameters given.

First image onscreen.

"What is it?" Peabody demanded.

"Potentially? His practice sessions. Look at her. Same physical type as Maplewood. Same age group, same coloring, same basic build." Peabody came in, mirroring Eve's earlier position by leaning over her shoulder. "No resemblance beyond surface I mean but yeah, same basic type." "Computer, split screen for second image, list date on each."

Working.. Task complete.

"Thumbs-up for McNab," Eve mumbled.

"Don't look like sisters," Peabody commented. "Cousins, maybe." "Marjorie Kates," Eve read. "Age thirty-two. Unmarried, no kids, midtown address. Employed as restaurant manager.

Reported missing by fiance, April second of this year. Didn't come home from work. Lansing and Jones caught this one.

Second is Breen Merriweather. Age thirty. Divorced, one child son, age five Upper East Side. Employed as a studio tech, Channel 75. Reported missing by childcare provider, June ten, this year. Didn't return home after her shift. Polinksi and Silk caught it.

"I need these files, Peabody. I need to talk to these detectives." "On it."

Since Lansing and Jones worked out of Central, it only took trips on three glides and one elevator to get to their division.

She found them both at desks, facing each other.

"Detectives Lansing and Jones? Lieutenant Dallas, Detective Peabody. Appreciate the time." "Lansing." The bull-chested, redheaded cop of about fifty stuck out a hand. "No problem, Lieutenant. You think one of yours is connected to one of ours." "I need to check it out." "Jones." The petite, thirtyish black woman shook Eve's hand, then Peabody's. "Fiance, Royce Cabel, came in to make the report. She was only missing overnight, but the guy was a mess." "Last seen when she left the restaurant -Appetito on East Fifty-eighth at closing, about midnight, April first." "She lived about three blocks away, usually walked back and forth. Guy's expecting her home by twelve-thirty, he says, but he falls asleep. When he wakes up, about two, she's not there. He flips, calls around to everybody he can think of. Then he's here, bright and early next morning to talk to the cops." "She poofs three weeks before the wedding," Lansing continued. "So you look at a couple things. Maybe her feet got cold and she took off. Maybe they had a fight and he offs her, comes in to report to cover it up." "But it doesn't play." Jones shook her head. "We got copies of the reports, our notes, witness statements, interviews for you. You can see everybody we talked to said Kates was hip-deep in wedding plans. She and Cabel had been cohabbing for about eighteen months. Got nothing on him that points to violence." "Took a Truth Test. Didn't even blink when we suggested it." "She got dead," Jones said. "That's my gut on it, Lieutenant." "And we got nothing, until you buzzed us up." "I don't know if we've got anything now. Any problem if I talk to some of the people on your list?"

"Nope." Lansing pulled his lip. "How about a clue?" "We're on the sexual homicide/mutilation in Central Park.

Our vic's the same physical type as your MR I'm pursuing the theory that he's done some practicing." "Well, shit," Jones said.

We can go by Polinski's and Silk's station on the way to see this Royce Cabel." "How about the gyms with sweaty guys with thick necks?" "We'll move on it." Because it was faster, they squeezed on an elevator to ride down to garage level. Eve did her best to ignore the elbow wedged in her ribs. "I want us to give Nadine an interview." "Because of the 75 connection?" "Not just. I'm thinking it might grate our big, strong man to see three women dissing him on-screen. To know two women are heading the investigation." There's a thought." Several people pushed their way off when the doors opened. Eve glanced up, noted she had three levels to go.

"Why don't we see if we can set up the interview later today?" "At Central?" "Yeah. Central Park. At last." Eve all but leaped out of the doors when they hit the garage.

"Dallas, wait!" Peabody grabbed her arm, dug in her heels.

"I have something to tell you." "Make it snappy." "I want to say first, that in just a few moments, you're going to be overcome with a powerful urge to kiss me on the lips. I won't think less of you for it." "Peabody, why, even in your wild, perverted dreams reams I want no part in or of would I ever have the least compunction to kiss you on the lips?" "Close your eyes."

Eve spoke quietly, almost casually. "Have you lost your fucking mind?" "Okay, okay." Peabody pouted a little. "You're no fun." She crossed over to Eve's parking slot, spread her arms with a flourish and said: "Voila!" "What the hell is that?" "That, Lieutenant, is your replacement vehicle. Pucker up." Eve goggled. It was a rare thing to see the lieutenant goggle, and Peabody celebrated the moment with a snappy little tap dance.

Slowly, Eve walked around the sleek, navy blue sedan. It shone under the hard garage lights like a dignified jewel.

The tires were big, black, and clean. The glass and chrome sparkled.

"This is not my vehicle." "Is too." "This is my vehicle?" "Uh-huh." Peabody bobbed her head like a puppet on a happy string.

"Get out." Eve smacked her in the shoulder. "How'd you pull this off?" "A little fast talk, some slight exaggeration, a lot of prevarication, and a little assistance from an e-fairy who knows how to hack." "You got it through unethical and possibly illegal means." "Damn straight." Eve set her hands on her hips, looked Peabody square in the eyes. "This is such a proud moment for me. A proud, proud moment." "Are you going to kiss me on the lips?" "Not that proud." "How about a peck on the cheek?" "Get in the car." "Your codes, Lieutenant." She handed them over, strolled around to the passenger side. "And you know what, Dallas? This bitch is loaded." "Oh yeah?" Eve slid into a seat, grinned when she didn't get the sensation of sitting on bumpy rock. "Well, let's see what she can do."