Holiday in Death (In Death #7)(88)

“This is police business,” Eve told him. Didn’t the man ever sleep?

Ignoring her, Roarke came in and sat on the arm of Peabody’s chair. “You’ve put in a long night. Can I order some food for you?”

“Roarke — “

“Man, I could eat,” McNab said over Eve’s objections.

“There are several other like videos,” she continued, turning back to the screen as Roarke rose and strolled into the kitchen area. “He collected them, and print discs such as A Christmas Carol. In addition, we found a large supply of  p**n , in both print and video, that follow the theme. Run Evidence Disc, Simon, 68-a. For example,” she said dryly when the screen behind her filled.

Roarke stepped back just in time to see a woman, wearing nothing but reindeer antlers and a strap-on tail, purr “Just call me Dancer,” as she took Santa’s waiting dick into her mouth.

“Now, that’s entertainment,” he commented.

“There are more than a dozen of these, another dozen underground snuff films, also vintage, that aren’t quite as cheery. But this one’s the award winner. Run Evidence Disc, Simon, 72.”

She flicked, a glance at Roarke, then stepped away.

On screen Marianna Hawley struggled against restraints. Her head whipped frantically right and left. She was weeping. Simon stepped into view, still wearing his red suit and beard.

He mugged for the camera, then grinned at the woman in bed. “Have you been naughty or nice, little girl?”

Be quiet, little girl. The smell of candy on his breath with liquor under it. Daddy’s going to give you a present.

The voice came into her mind, like a whisper in the ear. But Eve forced her hands steady and kept her eyes on the screen.

“Oh, I think you’ve been naughty, very, very naughty, but I’m going to give you something nice anyway.”

He turned back to the camera, doing a stylish striptease. He left the wig and beard in place as he began to stroke himself.

“It’s the first day of Christmas. My true love.”

He raped her. It was quick and brutal. While her screams echoed through the room, Eve picked up her coffee. However bitter and foul it felt going down her throat, she swallowed it.

He sodomized her. And she stopped screaming and simply whimpered like a child.

His eyes were glassy when he’d finished, his well-toned chest heaving. He took something out of his enhancement case, swallowed it.

“We believe that he’s ingesting an herb and chemical mix, partly Exotica, in order to maintain an erection.” Eve’s voice was flat, and her eyes stayed on the screen. It was, for her, a responsibility to the dead and a challenge to herself. She would look, she would see. And she would survive it.

Marianna didn’t struggle through the next rape. She’d gone away, Eve knew. Away where it couldn’t hurt any longer. Deep inside where she was all alone in the dark.

She didn’t struggle as Simon began to weep, began to curse her as a whore, wrapping the pretty garland around her neck and yanking it taut until it snapped and he was forced to use his hands.

“Oh sweet Jesus.” McNab’s choked whisper was full of horror and pity. “Isn’t that enough?”

“Now he decorates her,” Eve continued in the same empty voice. “Pretties her face, styles her hair, drapes the garland. You can see as he lifts her here, the tattoo is already in place. He lets the camera linger on her. He wants this. Wants to be able to run this over and over again when he’s alone. See her as he left her. As he made her.”

The screen went blank.

“He didn’t need a record of the cleanup. This disc ran thirty-three minutes and twelve seconds. That’s how long it took him to accomplish this section of his goal. There are other discs of the subsequent murders. All follow the same pattern. He’s a creature of habit and discipline. He’ll find a comfortable place in the city he knows to recuperate, to hide. He won’t go for a flop, but a good hotel, or another apartment.”

“Booking a room this time of year won’t be easy,” Feeney put in.

“No, but it’s where we start looking. Uptown to start. We’ll question his friends and co-workers at start of business tomorrow. We might get a handle on where he’d go. Peabody, you’ll meet me at the salon at nine hundred, in uniform.”

“Yes, sir.”

“The best we can do is get some sleep, for what’s left of the night.”

“Dallas, I can hang with this for another hour. If I could bunk right here, I could get an early roll on it in the morning.”

“All right, McNab. Let’s pack it in for now.”

“I’m for that.” Feeney rose. “I’ll give you a lift home, Peabody.”

“Don’t play with my toys, McNab,” Eve added as she walked out. “I get really cranky.”

“You need a sleep inducement tonight.” Roarke took her arm as they started toward the bedroom.

“Don’t start on me.”

“You don’t need dreams tonight. You need to turn it off for a few hours, if not for yourself, for the sake of that woman we watched being brutalized.”

“I can do my job.” She began to strip the minute she was inside, peeling off her clothes in a rush. She needed a shower, viciously hot water to scrub the stench off her skin.