by J. D. Robb
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 Dochas 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.
“I’m 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 coming 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.”
“I’m 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 un
it. 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—she 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.”