IT WAS FASCINATING, ROARKE THOUGHT, IN SO many ways to watch her work.
He’d wandered out of the conference room when he’d heard the commotion1, in time to see the erupting mountain of a man lift her a foot off the ground. His instinct had been, naturally, to rush forward, to protect his wife. And he’d been quick.
She’d been quicker.
He’d actually seen her calculate in those bare seconds her head had been snapping back and forth2 on her neck. Punch, gouge3, or kick, he remembered. Just as he’d seen more irritation4 than shock on her face when she’d gone flying.
Took a hell of a knock, he thought now, but temper had been riper than pain. He’d seen that, too. Just as he’d seen her compassion5 for the distress6 and confusion of a scared little boy inside a man’s body.
And here she was, moments later, taking charge of the room, putting all that behind her.
It was hardly a wonder that it had been her, essentially7 from the first minute he’d seen her. That it would be her until his last breath. And very likely well beyond that.
She hadn’t worn her jacket for the briefing, he noted8. She looked lean and not a little dangerous with her weapon strapped9 over her sweater. He’d seen her drape the diamond he’d once given her over her neck before she’d put on the sweater that morning.
The priceless Giant’s Tear and the police-issue. That combination, he thought, said something about their merging10 lives.
As he listened to her brisk update, he toyed with the gray button—her button—he always carried in his pocket.
“I expect to have a face within the next couple of hours,” she continued. “Until that time, these are the lines we pursue. Urban Wars connection. Captain Feeney?”
“Slow going there,” he said, “due to the lack of records. The Home Force did have documented billets and clinics in the city, and I’m working with those. But there were any number of unofficial locations used, and used temporarily. More that were destroyed or subsequently razed11. I’ve interviewed and am set to interview individuals who were involved militarily, paramilitarily, or as civilians12. I’m going to focus on body disposal.”
“Do you need more men?”
“I’ve got a couple I can put on it.”
“Do that. Knocking on doors. Newkirk, you and your team will recanvass this sector13.” She turned, aiming her laser pointer to highlight a five-block area around the bakery where Ariel Greenfeld worked. “Every apartment, every business, every street LC, sidewalk sleeper14, and panhandler. Somebody saw Greenfeld Sunday afternoon. Make them remember. Baxter, you and Trueheart take this sector around Greenfeld’s residence. He watched her. From the street, from another building, from a vehicle. In order to familiarize himself with her routine, he staked her out more than once. Jenkinson and Powell, recanvass the area of York’s and Rossi’s residences. Peabody and I will take the gym and the club.”
She paused, and Roarke could see her going through her mental checklist. “The real estate angle. Roarke.”
“There are a significant number of private residences,” he began, “and businesses with residences on site that have been owned and operated by the same individual or individuals for the time frame. Even reducing this search area to below Fiftieth in Manhattan, the number is considerable. I believe, if I cross with Feeney, do a search for private buildings that were in existence during the Urbans, whether as residences or otherwise, we’ll cut that down.”
“Good.” She thought a moment. “That’s good. Do that. Connecting cases. McNab.”
“It’s been like trying to pick the right flea15 off a gorilla16.”
“My line,” Callendar muttered beside him, and he grinned.
“Her line, but I think we may have a good possible. First vic in Florida, housekeeper17 at a swank resort, last seen after leaving the Sunshine Casino at approximately oh-one-hundred. She habitually18 spent a few hours on her night off playing the poker19 slots. Going on the theory that her killer20 had made earlier contact, may have been known by her, I did a run on the resort’s register for the thirty days prior to her death. Investigators21 at that time took a pass through it after the second body was discovered, but as it appeared the vic had been grabbed outside the casino, focused their efforts there. But a copy of the register was in the case file. Tits here and I went though it.”
“And you got lucky,” Callendar mumbled22.
“And I’m so good,” McNab said smoothly23, “that I hit on a guest registered three weeks before the vic was snatched, with a four-day stay. Name of Cicero Edwards. Resort requires an address, to which Edwards listed one in London. I ran the name with said address and came up with zip. No Edwards, Cicero, at that address at that time. And better, the address was bogus. It’s the address for—”
“An opera house,” Eve said and had McNab’s pretty face moving into a pout24.
“Wind, sails, sucked out,” he commented. “The Royal Opera House, to be exact. Leading your crack e-team to deduce this was our guy, and that our guy has a thing for fat women singing in really high voices.”
“I have information that may add further weight to that.” She encapsulated Nadine’s information. “Good work.” She nodded at McNab and Callendar. “Find more. Roarke, see if you can dig up any buildings that were used as opera houses or theaters that held operas during the Urbans. And—”
“He’ll have season tickets,” Roarke said. “If he’s a serious buff, and is able to afford the luxury, he’d indulge it. Box seats, most likely. Here at the Met, very likely at the Royal and other opera houses of repute.”
“We can work that,” she replied. “Dig, cross-check. He likes to vary his name. Punch on any variation of Edward.” She glanced at her wrist unit, cursed. “I’m late for the damn media. Get started.”
She turned, studied the name she’d added to the white board. Ariel Greenfeld.
“Let’s find her,” she said, and went out.
She got through the media without actually grinding her teeth down to nubs. She considered that progress. Whitney was waiting for her outside the briefing room.
“I’d hoped to make it to your morning briefing,” he told her. “I was detained.”
“We do have some new leads since my report. Sir, I’d like to check on Detective Yancy’s progress with the witness if I could update you on the way.”
He nodded, fell into step beside her.
“An opera lover,” he said when she’d brought him up to speed. “My wife enjoys the opera.”
“Yes, sir.”
He smiled a little. “I actually enjoy some opera myself. He may have gotten too clever with his fake addresses, using opera houses.”
“Houses may be one of the keys, Commander. I don’t know much about opera, but I take it they deal with death a lot of the time. The psychic25 in Romania talked about his house of death. Psychics26 are often cryptic27 or their visions symbolic28.”
“And we should consider he might have, or have had, some more direct connection with opera. A performer, or backer, a crew member, musician.”
“It’s a possibility.”
“Phantom of the Opera. A story about a disfigured man who haunts an opera house, and kills,” Whitney explained. “His killing29 place may be a former opera house or theater.”
“We’re pursuing that. There are other areas we may pursue. I’d like to discuss them with you and Mira at some point, if those areas seem relevant.”
“We’ll work around you.”
He went with her to Yancy’s division. Eve wondered if he registered the fact that wherever he passed, cops came to attention…or if it was something he no longer noticed.
Eve saw first that Yancy was alone at his workstation, and second that his eyes were closed, and he was wearing a headset. Though she’d have preferred the commander had been elsewhere when she was forced to berate30 a detective, it didn’t stop her from giving Yancy’s desk chair a good, solid kick.
He jerked up. “Hey, watch where you’re—Lieutenant.” Annoyance31 cleared when he saw Eve, then shifted over into something closer to anxiety when he spotted32 Whitney. “Commander.”
He came out of the chair.
“Where the hell is my witness?” Eve demanded. “And just how often do you take a little nap on the department’s time?”
“I wasn’t napping. Sir. It’s a ten-minute meditation33 program,” he explained as he pulled off the headset. “Trina needed a break, so I suggested she go down to the Eatery or take a short walk around. At this point in the work, it’s easy to stop guiding and start directing. Meditating34 for a few minutes clears my head.”
“Your methods generally produce results,” Whitney commented. “But in this case, ten minutes is an indulgence we can’t afford.”
“Understood, sir, but, respectfully, I know when a wit needs a breather. She’s good.” Yancy glanced at Dallas. “She’s really good. She knows faces because it’s her business to evaluate them. She’s already given me more than most wits manage, and in my opinion, after this break she’s going to nail it solid. Take a look.”
He’d used both a sketch35 pad and the computer. Eve stepped around to get a closer look at both. “That’s good,” she agreed.
“It’ll be better. She keeps changing the eyes and the mouth, and that’s because she’s second-and third-guessing. She can’t pull out the eye color, but the shape? The shape of the eyes, the face, even the way the ears lie, she doesn’t deviate36.”
The face was rounded, the ears lying neatly37, and on the small side. The eyes were slightly hooded38 and held a pleasant expression. The mouth, a little thin on top, was curved in a hint of a smile. Short-necked, Eve noted, so that the head sat low on the shoulders.
All in all, it struck her as a bland39, nondescript kind of face. The sort that would be easily overlooked. “Nothing stands out about him,” she commented. “Except his absolute ordinariness.”
“Exactly. And that makes it harder for the wit. Harder to remember details about somebody who doesn’t really have anything about him that catches the eye. She was more into how he dressed, how he spoke40, how he smelled, that sort of thing. They made the impression. Took her a while to start building the face beyond that. But she’s good.”
“So are you,” Eve complimented. “Give me a copy of this for now. Get me the finished when you have it.”
“Some of these details are going to change.” Still, Yancy ordered a print. “I think the nose is going to be shorter, and—” He held up a hand as if signaling himself to stop. “And that’s why we needed a break from each other. I’m projecting.”
“This gives us a base. When you’re done with Trina, I’d like you to arrange for her to be taken back to my residence. She’s expected.”
“Will do.”
“Nice work, Detective.”
“Thank you, Commander.”
As they left, Whitney glanced at Eve. “Check with him in an hour. If there isn’t any change, we’ll release this image. We need it made public as soon as possible.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Contact me when you want to meet with me and Dr. Mira,” he added, then peeled off to go his own way.
E ve didn’t care how cold it was, it was good to be back on the street. She’d had enough, for the time being, of desk work and comp work and briefings. It was true enough she needed some thinking time, just her and her murder board, but right now, she needed to move.
“It’s hard to believe we’ve only been on this since Friday night.” Peabody hunched41 her shoulders as they walked to BodyWorks. “It feels like we’ve been working this one for a month.”
“Time’s relative.” Ariel Greenfeld, Eve thought, missing for approximately eighteen hours.
“McNab humped on this until nearly three this morning. I fizzled just past midnight, but he was revved42. Something about e-juice, I guess. Of course, when he’s really humping the comp, he doesn’t have any left to, you know, hump yours truly. This is the longest we’ve gone since cohabbing not using the bed—or some other surface—for recreational purposes.”
“One day,” Eve said as she cast her eyes to heaven, “one fine day you’ll be able to go a full week without inserting an image of you and McNab having sex into my head.”
“Well, see, that’s what I’m worried about.” They passed into the lobby of the center, flashed badges on the way to the elevator. “You think maybe the bloom’s wearing off? That we’re losing the spark? It’s actually been since Wednesday night that we—”
“Go no further with that sentence.” Eve ordered the elevator to take them to the main gym. “You can’t go, what, four days without worrying about blooms and sparks?”
“I don’t know. I guess. Well, no,” Peabody decided43, “because four days is basically a work week if you’re not a cop. If you and Roarke went a week, wouldn’t you wonder?”
Eve wasn’t sure this had ever been an issue. She only shook her head and stepped off the elevator.
“So you and Roarke haven’t gotten snuggly since we caught this?”
Eve stopped, turned. Stared. “Detective Peabody, are you actually standing44 there asking me if I’ve had sex in the last few days?”
“Well. Yes.”
“Pull yourself together, Peabody.”
“You have!” Peabody trotted46 after Eve. “I knew it. I knew it! You’re practically working around the clock, and you still get laid. And we’re younger. I mean, not that you’re old,” Peabody said quickly when Eve shifted very cool eyes in her direction. “You’re young and fit, the picture of youth and vitality47. I’m just going to stop talking now.”
“That would be best.” Eve went straight to the manager’s office.
Pi got up from his desk. “You have news.”
“We’re pursuing a number of leads. We’d like to talk to the staff again, and make inquiries48 among some of your members.”
“Whatever you need.”
Though Yancy had a little time left on his clock, Eve drew out the sketch. “Take a look at this, tell me if you know this man, or have seen him.”
Pi took the sketch, studied it carefully. “He doesn’t look familiar. We have a lot of members, a lot of them casual, others who are transient, using this facility while they’re in town for business or pleasure. I know a lot of the regulars on sight, but I don’t recognize him.”
He lowered this sketch. “Is this the man who has Gia?”
“At this time, he’s a person of interest.”
They spent an hour at it, without a single hit. As they stepped outside, Eve’s ’link signaled. “Dallas.”
“Yancy. Got it. Good as it’s going to get.”
“Show me.”
He flipped49 the image on screen. Eve saw it was a bit more defined than the sketch she was carrying. The eyebrows50 were slightly higher, the mouth less sharply shaped. And the nose was, in fact, a little shorter. “Good. Let’s get it out. Notify Whitney, and tell him I requested Nadine Furst get a five-minute bump over the rest of the media.”
“Got that.”
“Good work, Yancy.”
“He looks like somebody’s nice, comfortable grandfather,” Peabody commented. “The kind that passes out peppermint51 candy to all the kids. I don’t know why that makes it worse.”
Safe, Trina had said. She’d said he looked safe. “He’s going to see himself on screen. He’ll see it at some point in the next few hours, the next day. And he’ll know we’re closer than we’ve ever been before.”
“That worries you.” Peabody nodded. “He might kill Rossi and Greenfeld out of panic and preservation52, and go under again.”
“He might. But we’ve got to air the image. If he’s targeted another woman, if he’s contacted her, and she sees it, it’s not only going to save her life, it may lead us right to his door. No choice. Got no choice.”
But she thought of Rossi. Eighty-six hours missing, and counting.
Considering the sketch she had was closer than most, Eve used it while they talked to other businesses, to residences, to a couple of panhandlers and the glide-cart operators on the corners.
“He’s, like, invisible.” Peabody rubbed her chilled hands together as they headed toward the club. “We know he’s been around there, been inside the gym, but nobody sees him.”
“Nobody pays attention to him and maybe that’s part of his pathology. He’s been ignored or overlooked. This is his way of being important. The women he takes, tortures, kills, they won’t forget him.”
“Yeah, but dead.”
“Not the point. They see him. When you give somebody pain, when you restrain them, hold them captive and isolated53, hurt them, you’re their world.” It had been that way for her, she remembered. Her father had been the world, the terrifying and brutal54 world the first eight years of her life.
His face, his voice, every detail of him was exact and indelible in her mind. In her nightmares.
“He’s the last thing they see,” she added. “That must give him a hell of a rush.”
I nside Starlight it was colored lights and dreamy music. Couples circled the dance floor while Zela, in a waist-cinching red suit Eve had to assume was retro, stood on the sidelines.
“Very smooth, Mr. Harrow. Ms. Yo, relax your shoulders. That’s the way.”
“Dance class,” Peabody said as Zela continued to call out instructions or encouragement. “They’re pretty good. Oops,” she added when one of the men wearing a natty55 bow tie stepped on his partner’s foot. “Kinda cute, too.”
“Adorable, especially considering one of them might dance on home after class and torture his latest brunette.”
“You think…one of them.” Peabody eyed Natty Bow Tie suspiciously.
“No. He’s done with this place. He’s never been known to fish from the same pool twice. But I’m damn sure he fox-trotted or whatever on that floor within the last few weeks.”
“Why do they call it a fox-trot45?” Peabody wondered. “Foxes do trot, but it doesn’t look like dancing.”
“I’ll put an investigative team right on that. Let’s go.”
They headed down the silver stairs, catching56 Zela’s eye. She nodded, then applauded when the music ended. “That was terrific! Now that you’re warmed up, Loni’s going to take you through the rhumba.”
Zela gestured Eve and Peabody over to the bar while the young redhead led Natty Bow Tie to the center of the floor. The redhead beamed enthusiastically. “All right! Positions, everyone.”
There was a single bartender. He wore black-tie, and set a glass of bubbly water with a slice of lemon in front of Zela without asking her preference. “What can I get you, ladies?”
“Could I have a virgin57 cherry foam58?” Peabody asked before Eve could glare at her.
“I’m good,” Eve told him, then drew out the sketch, laid it on the counter. “Do you recognize this man?”
Zela stared at it. “Is this…” She shook her head. She lifted her water, drank deeply, set it down again. Then, picking up the sketch, she angled it toward the lights. “I’m sorry. He just doesn’t look familiar. We get so many men of a certain age through here. I think if I’d worked with him—in a class—I’d remember.”
“How about you?” Eve took the sketch, nudged it across the bar.
The bartender stopped mixing Peabody’s drink to frown over the sketch. “Is this the fucker—sorry, Zela.” She only shook her head, waved the obscenity away. “This the one who killed Sari?”
“He’s a guy we want to talk to.”
“I’m good with faces, part of the trade. I don’t remember him sitting at my bar.”
“You work days?”
“Yeah. We—me and my lady—had a kid six months ago. Sari switched me to days so I could be home with my family at night. She was good about things like that. Her memorial’s tomorrow.” He looked over at Zela. “It’s not right.”
“No.” Zela laid a hand over his for a moment. “It’s not right.”
There was grief in his eyes when he moved away to finish mixing the drink.
“We’re all taking it pretty hard,” Zela said quietly. “Trying to work through it, because what can you do? But it’s hard, like trying to swallow past something that’s stuck in your throat.”
“It says a lot about her,” Peabody offered, “that she mattered to so many people.”
“Yeah. Yeah, it does. I talked to Sari’s sister yesterday,” Zela continued. “She asked if I’d pick the music. What Sari liked. It’s hard. Harder than anything I imagined.”
“I’m sure it is. What about her?” Eve glanced toward the redhead. “Did she work with Sari on any of the classes?”
“No. Actually, this is Loni’s first class. We’ve had to do some…well, some internal shuffling59. Loni worked coat check and revolving60 hostessing. I just bumped her up to hostess/instructor.”
“I’d like to talk to her.”
“Sure, I’ll send her over.” Zela rose, smiled wanly61. “Pity my feet. Mr. Buttons is as cute as, well, a button, but he’s a complete klutz.”
The dancers made the switch with Loni giving her klutzy partner a quick peck on the cheek before she dashed over to the bar on three-inch heels.
“Hi! I’m Loni.”
“Lieutenant Dallas, Detective Peabody.”
Peabody swallowed her slurp62 of cherry foam and tried to look more official.
“I talked to those other detectives? I have to say mmmm on both. I guess they’re not coming back?”
“Couldn’t say. Do you recognize this man?”
Loni looked at the sketch as the bartender set down beside her something pink and fizzy with a cherry garnish63. “I don’t know. Hmmm. Not really. Sort of. I don’t know.”
“Which is it, Loni? Sort of or not really?”
“He kind of looks like this one guy, but that guy had dark hair, slicked back dark hair and a really thin mustache.”
“Short, tall, average? This one guy.”
“Ummm, let me think. On the short side. ’Cause Sari had an inch or two on him. Of course, she was wearing heels, so—”
“Hold on. You saw this man with Sari?”
“This one guy, yeah. Well, lots of the men liked to dance with Sari when she was working the floor. It’s probably not this guy because—”
“Hold on.” Eve pulled out her ’link, tagged Yancy. “I need you to alter the sketch. Give him dark hair, slicked back, a thin mustache. Send it to this ’link.”
“Give me a minute.”
“When did you see this man with Sari?” Eve asked Loni.
“I’m not sure. A few weeks ago, I guess. It’s hard to remember exactly. I only remember at all because I was working the floor, and I asked this guy to dance. We’re supposed to ask the singles to dance. He was sort of shy and sweet, and said how he’d just come in for the music, but thank you. Then just a little while later, I saw him dancing with Sari. It sort of frosted me, you know? Silly.” She shrugged64. “But I was, like, I guess he goes for brunettes instead of…Oh.” She went a little pale. “Oh, God. This guy?”
“You tell me.” Eve turned her ’link around so that Loni could view the screen with the adjusted sketch.
“Oh God, oh God. I think, I really think that’s the guy. Brett.”
“It’s okay.” The bartender took her hand. “Take it easy.” He angled his head to look at the screen. Shook his head. “He didn’t come to the bar. I don’t remember him sitting at the bar.”
“Where was he sitting, Loni?”
“Okay. Okay.” She took long breaths as she swiveled around to study the club. “Second tier—I’m pretty sure—toward the back over there.”
“I need to talk to whoever waits tables in that section. Can you pinpoint65 the night, Loni?”
“I don’t know. It was a couple weeks ago. Maybe three? You know, I checked his coat once. I remember checking his coat, and that’s why I zeroed on him that night. I’d checked his coat before, and he’d been alone. So when I was working the floor, I spotted him and thought, ‘Oh yeah, that guy’s a solo.’ But he didn’t want to dance with me.”
A single tear slid down her cheek. “He wanted Sari.”
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commotion
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forth
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gouge
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irritation
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compassion
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distress
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essentially
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noted
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strapped
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merging
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razed
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civilians
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sector
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sleeper
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flea
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gorilla
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housekeeper
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habitually
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poker
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killer
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investigators
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mumbled
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smoothly
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pout
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psychic
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psychics
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cryptic
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symbolic
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killing
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annoyance
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| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
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spotted
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| adj.有斑点的，斑纹的，弄污了的 | |
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meditation
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| n.熟虑，（尤指宗教的）默想，沉思，（pl.）冥想录 | |
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meditating
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| a.沉思的，冥想的 | |
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sketch
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| n.草图；梗概；素描；v.素描；概述 | |
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deviate
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| v.(from)背离，偏离 | |
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neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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hooded
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| adj.戴头巾的；有罩盖的；颈部因肋骨运动而膨胀的 | |
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bland
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| adj.淡而无味的，温和的，无刺激性的 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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hunched
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| （常指因寒冷、生病或愁苦）耸肩弓身的，伏首前倾的 | |
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revved
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| v.（使）加速( rev的过去式和过去分词 )；（数量、活动等）激增；（使发动机）快速旋转；（使）活跃起来 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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trot
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| n.疾走，慢跑；n.老太婆；现成译本；(复数）trots:腹泻（与the 连用）；v.小跑，快步走，赶紧 | |
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trotted
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| 小跑，急走( trot的过去分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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vitality
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| n.活力，生命力，效力 | |
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inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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flipped
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| 轻弹( flip的过去式和过去分词 )； 按（开关）； 快速翻转； 急挥 | |
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eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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peppermint
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| n.薄荷，薄荷油，薄荷糖 | |
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preservation
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| n.保护，维护，保存，保留，保持 | |
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isolated
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| adj.与世隔绝的 | |
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brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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natty
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| adj.整洁的，漂亮的 | |
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catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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virgin
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| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
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foam
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| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
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shuffling
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| adj. 慢慢移动的, 滑移的 动词shuffle的现在分词形式 | |
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revolving
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| adj.旋转的，轮转式的；循环的v.（使）旋转( revolve的现在分词 )；细想 | |
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wanly
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| adv.虚弱地；苍白地，无血色地 | |
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slurp
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| n.啜食；vt.饮食出声 | |
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garnish
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| n.装饰，添饰，配菜 | |
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shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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pinpoint
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| vt.准确地确定；用针标出…的精确位置 | |
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