J D Robb - Dallas 17 - Imitation in Death

by Imitation in Death(lit)

  "You could be right."

  "I could?" Emboldened, Peabody pressed on. "And Renquist. He's just too prissy or something., The whole Sunday brunch at ten routine. Then there's his wife. I can see her looking the other way if he likes to try on her underwear occasionally in the privacy of their own home, but I can't see her living with a psychopath. She's too prissy. And she'd have to know. You could tell she has her finger on the pulse of that household, so she'd have to know something.

  "I think you're right about that. Nothing gets by her. But I think she could live with a psychopath just fine. As long as he doesn't drip any blood on, her floors. I met the woman who raised him, Peabody. He married the same basic type, just more upscale and stylish. But you think Fortney, I'll tell you what. If we haven't closed this by the day after tomorrow, you take him."

  "Take him where?"

  "Work him, Peabody. Make him your focus and see what comes up."

  "You think we're going to close it."

  "Soon. But you may get your shot."

  They checked out three outlets before Eve decided it was time to go by the hospital to check on Marlene Cox. She acknowledged the guard she'd stationed outside the door, and told him to take a ten-minute break while Peabody stood as relief.

  Inside, she found Mrs. Cox reading aloud from a book beside the bed while machines kept her daughter tethered to the world.

  Sela looked up, then marked her place before setting the book aside. "They know people in comas can often hear sounds, voices, and respond to them. It can be like being behind a curtain you can't quite open."

  "Yes, ma' am."

  "One of us takes turns reading to her." Mrs. Cox reached over, fussed with the sheet that covered Marlene. "Last night we put in a disc. Jane Eyre. It's one of Marley's favorites. Have you read it?"

  "No.

  " It's a wonderful story. Love, survival, triumph, and redemption. I brought the book today. I think hearing me read it would be comforting, for her."

  "I'm sure you're right."

  "You think she's already gone. That's what they think here, though they're very kind, and they're working very hard. They think she's gone. But I know she's not."

  "It's not for me to say, Mrs. Cox."

  "Do you believe in miracles... I'm sorry, I've forgotten your name."

  "I'm Dallas. Lieutenant Dallas."

  "Do you believe in miracles, Lieutenant Dallas?" "I've never thought much about it."

  "I believe in them."

  Eve crossed to the bed and looked down. Marlene's face was colorless. Her chest moved gently up and down to the rhythm of the machine that breathed for her in constant, whooshing notes. She saw death all over her.

  "Mrs. Cox, he would have raped her. He would have been brutal. He would have done his best to keep her conscious during it so she'd have felt the pain and the fear and the helplessness. He would have reveled in that, and he would have taken some time to torture her. There were... instruments in the van he would have used on her."

  "You want me to know that because she fought, she escaped that. She stopped him from doing those terrible things to her, and that's a kind of miracle." Her breath shuddered as she fought back a sob. "Well, where there can be one, there can be another. As soon as she can open the curtain she'll tell you who it was. They told us she probably wouldn't live through the morning. It's past noon now. Can you tell me, if you believe she's done, why you came in today?"

  Eve started to speak, then shook her head and looked back at Marlene. "I was going to tell you it's routine. But the fact is, Mrs. Cox, she belongs to me, too, now. That's the way it is for me."

  When her communicator signaled, she excused herself and stepped out into the corridor.

  "Peabody," she said the minute she ended transmission, "with me."

  "Have we got something?"

  "I had a man watching Renquist's place. The nanny just took a cab to the Metropolitan Museum, without the kid. I've been looking for an opening to talk to her solo."

  Sophia was doing a slow walk through French impressionism. Eve spoke briefly to the shadow, dismissed her, then wandered in the au pair's direction.

  "Sophia DiCarlo." Eve held up her badge and watched the woman jolt, and go pale.

  "I didn't do anything."

  "Then you shouldn't look so guilty. Let's sit down." "I haven't broken the law."

  "Then don't start now by refusing to speak to a police officer." It was hardly a criminal offense, but she could see Sophia didn't know that.

  "Mrs. Renquist said I wasn't to speak to you. How did you find me here? I could rose my job: It's a good job. I do a good job with Rose."

  "I'm sure you do, and Mrs. Renquist doesn't have to know you spoke with me."

  To ensure some cooperation, Eve took her arm and drew her to a bench in the center of the room. "Why do you think Mrs. Renquist doesn't want you to talk to me?"

  "People gossip. If the family and the staff are questioned by the police, people will gossip.--Her husband is a very important man, very important. People like to gossip about important men."

  She wrung her hands, as she spoke. It wasn't often Eve saw someone actually wring their hands. Nerves, and some thing closer to fear, shimmered around the woman like warning lights.

  "Sophia, I checked with INS. You're legal. Why are you afraid to talk to the police?"

  "I told you. Mr. and Mrs. Renquist brought me to America, they gave me a job. If they're displeased, they could send me away. I love Rose. I don't want to lose my little girl."

  "How long have you worked for them?"

  "Five years. Rose was only a one-year-old. She's such a good girl."

  "What about her parents? Are they easy to work for?"

  "They they are very fair. I have a beautiful room and a good salary. I have one full -day and one afternoon off every week. I like to come here, to the museum. I'm improving myself."

  "Do they get along? The Renquists?" "I don't understand."

  "Do they argue?"

  "NO."

  "Not ever."

  Sophia went from looking terrified to desperate. "They are very proper, at-all times."

  "That's hard to swallow, Sophia. You've lived in their home for five years and have never witnessed an impropriety, never overheard an argument."

  "It's not my place-"

  "I'm making it your place." Five years, Eve thought. At the going salary rate, the woman would have a reasonable financial cushion. The vague possibility of losing her job might upset her, but not frighten her.

  "Why are you scared of them?"

  "I don't know what you mean."

  "Yes, you do." It was in her eyes now, too easily recognizable. "Does he come to your room at night, when the girl's asleep? When his wife's down the hall?"

  Tears welled up, spilled over. "No. No! I won't talk this way. I'll lose my job-"

  "Look at me." Eve gripped Sophia's busy hands, squeezed. "I've just left the hospital where a woman is losing her life. You will talk to me, and you'll tell me the truth."

  "You won't believe me. He's a very important man. You'll say I'm a liar, and I'll be sent away."

  "That's what he told you. No one will believe you. `I can do whatever I want because no one would believe it! He's wrong. Look at me, look at my face. I'll believe you."

  The tears had to blur her vision, but she must have seen something, seen enough to have the words come flooding out.

  "He says I must, because his wife will not. Not since she learned she carried -a child. They have separate rooms. It is... he says it is the civilized way of marriage, and that it's my place to let him.-.. touch me."

  "It's not the civilized way of anything."

  "He's an important man, and I'm just a servant." Though she continued to cry; her voice held a cold finality. "If I speak of it, he'll send me away, away from Rose, in disgrace. Shame my family, ruin them. So he comes to my room and he locks the door, and he turns off the lights. I do what he tells me to do, and he leaves me again."r />
  "Does he hurt you?.,

  "Sometimes." She looked down at her hands, and the tears that dripped on them. "If he's not able... not able to, he becomes angry. She knows" Sophia lifted her drenched eyes. "Mrs. Renquist. There is 'nothing that happens in the house that she doesn't know. But she does nothing,- says nothing. And I know, in my heart, she, will hurt me more than he could if she finds out I spoke of it."

  "I want you to think back, to the night, the early morning of September second. Was he home?"

  "I don't know. I swear to you," she rushed on before Eve could speak. "My room is at the back of the house, and my door is closed. I don't hear if someone comes in or goes out, I have an intercom for Rose's room. It's always on, except... except when he turns it off. I never leave my room at night, unless Rose needs me."

  "The following Sunday morning."

  "The family had brunch, as they always do. Ten-thirty. - Exactly ten-thirty. No minute sooner, no minute later."

  "Earlier than that. Say eight o'clock. Was he in the house then?"

  "I don't know." She bit her bottom lip as she tried to remember. "I think not. I was in Rose's room, helping her pick her dress for the day. She must wear a proper dress on Sunday. I saw, from the window, Mr. Renquist drive to the house. It was perhaps nine-thirty. He sometimes plays golf or tennis on Sunday mornings. It's part of his work, to socialize."

  "What was he wearing?"

  "I... I'm sorry. I don't remember. A golf shirt, I think. I think: Not a suit, but something casual for summer. They dress carefully, both of them. Appropriately."

  "And last night? Was he home all night?"

  "I don't know. He didn't come to my room." "This morning. How did he behave this morning?"

  "I didn't see him. I was instructed to give Rose her breakfast in the nursery. We do this if Mr. or Mrs. Renquist is very busy, or unwell, or if they have appointments." "Which was it?"

  "I don't know. I wasn't told."

  "Is there any place in the house where he goes that, you and the child aren't allowed?"

  "His office. He's a very important man, doing very important work. His office is locked, and no one is to disturb him there,"

  "Okay. I may need to talk to you again. In the meantime, L can help you. What Renquist is doing to you is wrong, and it's a crime. I can make it stop."

  "Please. Please. If you do anything, I'll have to leave. Rose needs me. Mrs. Renquist doesn't love Rose, not the way I do, and he--he barely notices the child. The other, what. he does, it's not important. It isn't so very often, not any longer. I think he loses interest."

  "If you change your mind, you can contact me. I'll help you.'

  Chapter 19

  A call to Renquist's office netted her the information that he'd been called out of town, and would be unavailable for the next two days. She went through the formality of making an appointment upon his return, then drove to his house. The housekeeper gave her the same information. "You see him leave? You personally?"

  "I beg your pardon?"

  "You watch him walk out the door with his suitcase?"

  "I fail to see the relevance of such a question, but as it happens, I carried Mr. Renquist's luggage to the car myself."

  "Where'd he go?'

  "I'm not privy to that information, and would. not be free to divulge it if I were. Mr. Renquist's duties often require travel."

  "I bet. I'd like to see Mrs. Renquist."

  "Mrs. Renquist isn't at home, Nor is she expected to be until this evening."

  Eve looked past her, into the house. She'd have given a month's pay for a search warrant,

  "Let me ask you something, Jeeves." She winced.

  "Stevens."

  "Stevens. When did the boss get this call to duty?"

  "I believe he made the arrangements very early this morning " -

  "How'd he find out he was hitting the trail?" "Excuse me?"

  "A transmission come in, a call, a private messenger whiz by, what?"

  "I'm afraid I don't know."

  "Some housekeeper you are. How'd his eyes look this morning?"

  Stevens looked perplexed, then simply annoyed. "Lieutenant, Mr. Renquist's eyes are not my concern nor yours. Good day."

  She thought about booting the door open when it started to shut in her face, but decided it was a waste of energy. "Peabody, start the EDD troops doing a search to find out where Renquist went, and how he's getting there."

  "I guess he's the one."

  "Why?"

  It was-Peabody's turn to look perplexed and she hurried after Eve to the vehicle. "He's molesting the nanny. He and his wife lied about him being home all morning on Sunday. He's got a private, locked room in his house, and this morning, he's conveniently called out of town."

  "So you cross off Fortney, just like that. Peabody, you're an investigative slut."

  "But it all fits."

  "You can fit it this way, too. He's molesting the nanny because he's a-royal shit and a perv. His wife's not putting out, and he.'s got a young, pretty girl in the house who's afraid to say no. They lied because they're both royal shits who don't want to be hassled by the police, and saying he was home is more convenient. He's got a locked home office because he's got staff who might poke into sensitive material, and a kid he doesn't want bothering him when he's working. He's called out of town this morning because his line of work demands he get up and go when the call comes."

  "Well, hell."

  "If you don't think it from both ends, you don't get the right answers. Now let's see how Breen holds up. in formal interview."

  He was waiting, examining the one-way glass when Eve stepped into Interview Room B. He turned, and sent her one of his boyish smiles.

  "I know I should be pissed off, and yelling lawyer, but this is just iced..

  "Happy to entertain you."

  "I had to leave Jed with a neighbor though. I don't trust the droid when I'm not-in the house. So I hope this isn't going to take too long."

  "Then sit down, and let's get started. "Sure "

  She engaged the recorder, recited the case data, and the Revised Miranda. "Do you understand your rights and obligations, Mr. Breen?"

  "Oh yeah. Look, I beard the media reports on the attack early this morning. Guy pulled a Bundy. What I do you think?"

  "Why don't you let me ask the questions, Tom?' "Sorry. Habit." He flashed a grin. "Where were you this morning at two A.M.?"

  "At home, asleep. I knocked off work about midnight. By two, I was sawing them off."

  "Was your wife at home?"

  "Sure. Sawing them off right beside me, but in a delicate, ladylike manner."

  "You think you get points for witty remarks in here, Tom?"

  "Can't hurt."

  Saying nothing, Eve shifted her gaze to Peabody.

  "Well, yeah," Peabody responded. "If you piss her off, it can hurt. Trust me."

  "Are you going to do the good cop/bad cop gambit?" He rocked back in his chair, balancing it casually on its back legs. "I've studied all the basic interrogation techniques. I can never figure out why that -one works. I mean, come on, it's the oldest one in the books."

  "No, the oldest one in the books is where I take you into a private room and during our little chat you trip and some how manage to break your face."

  He continued to rock while he studied Eve. "I don't think so.. You've got an attitude for sure, and some innate violent tendencies, but you don't pound on suspects. Too much integrity. You're a good cop."

  He spoke earnestly now, obviously high on his own intellect and intuition. "The kind that digs in and doesn't let go because you believe. More than anything else you believe in the spirit of the law, maybe not the letter, but the spirit. Maybe you take shortcuts now and then, stuff that doesn't find its way into your official reports, but you're careful about the lines-the ones you cross, the ones you don't. And beating confessions out of suspects isn't one of your short cuts."

  Now he looked at Peabody. "Nailed her, didn'
t I?"

  "Mr. Breen, you couldn't nail the lieutenant if you made the attempt your life's work. She's beyond your scope."

  "Oh, come on.". He gave an irritated little twist of his lips. "You just don't want to admit I'm as good at this sort of game as you are. Listen, when you study murder, you don't just study murderers, you study cops."