Imitation in Death (In Death #17)(10)

"Then he's going to be seriously bummed when I take him down."

"He could turn on you if he feels you're getting too close, ruining his fantasy. At first it's a challenge, but I don't believe he'll tolerate the humiliation of being stopped by a woman." She shook her head. "Much of this depends on how much of the Ripper personality he's taken on, and which persona ascribed by the various theories to the Ripper he, himself, believes. It's problematic, Eve. When he said, 'sample of my work,' did that mean his first, or has he killed before and gone undetected?"

"It's his first here, in New York, but I'm going to do a check through IRCCA. Some psycho tries to emulate Jack the Ripper every now and. then, but I don't know of anywhere he wasn't caught."

"Keep me updated, and I'll work up a more substantial profile."

"I appreciate it." She rose, hesitated. "Listen, Peabody had a little trouble this morning. The vic was in pretty bad shape, and... well, she got sick. She's brooding about it. Like she's the first cop to puke on her shoes," Eve muttered. "Anyway, she's under some stress prepping for the detective's exam, and then she's hunting for a place to cohab with McNab which I don't really want to think about, but she does. So, maybe you could find a minute to pat her on the head about it or something. Whatever. Shit."

Mira let out a quick, bubbling laugh. "It's very sweet for you to be worried about her."

"I don't want to be very sweet," Eve -said with some passion. "Or to worry about her. This isn't the time for her head to be up her ass."

"I'll talk to her." Mira cocked her head. "And how are you?"

"Me? Fine. Good. No complaints. Um... things good with you?"

"Yes, they are. My daughter and her family are visiting for a few days. It's always nice for me to have them, and the chance to play Grandma."

"Uh-huh." Mira with her icy suit and pretty legs wasn't Eve's picture of anybody's grandma.

"I'd love for you to meet them."

"Oh, well-"

"We're having an informal cookout on Sunday. I'd very much enjoy it if you and Roarke could come. About two," she said before Eve could think of a response.

"Sunday." A little bubble of panic lodged in her throat. "I don't know if he's got anything going or not. I-"

"I'll check with him." There was a laugh in Mira's eyes as she set her cup aside. "It's just family. Nothing fancy. Now, I'd better let you get back to work."

She walked to the door, opened it, and all but scooted Eve out. Then.she leaned back on the door and laughed. It delighted her, absolutely, to see that slightly horrified and completely baffled expression on Eve's face when confronted with the idea of a family cookout.

She checked the time, then hurried to her desk'link. She'd just contact Roarke immediately and box Eve in before she could find an escape hatch.

Eve was still horrified, still baffled when she reached the Homicide Division again. Peabody leaped out of her cube and hot-footed after her. "Sir. Lieutenant. Dallas."

"What do you do at a cookout?" Eve muttered. "Why are you cooking at all, much less out? It's hot out. There are bugs. I don't get it."

"Dallas!"

"What?" Brows lowered, Eve spun around. "What is it?"

"I've got the customer lists. It took some fast talking, but I convinced the two outlets to give me the names of purchases, those on record, for the stationery found with Jacie Wooton."

"Did you run the names?"

"Not yet. I just got them."

"Let me have them. I've got to do something to get my brain back in gear."

She snatched the disc out of Peabody's hand and plugged it into her desk unit. "I don't have a cup of coffee in my hand," Eve commented as the names began to scroll. "And I'm sure I need it, immediately."

"Yes, sir, you certainly do. Did you see? There's a duchess and an earl, and Liva Holdreak, the actress, and "

"The coffee isn't in my hand. How can this be?"

"And Carmichael Smith, the international recording star, has a standing order for a box of a hundred sheets and envelopes, every six month." As she spoke, Peabody put the mug into Eve's outstretched hand. "His music's too wanky for me, but he, himself? Totally iced."

"I'm glad to know that, Peabody. It's important for me to know he's both wanky and iced should I arrest him for the murder of this very unfortunate LC. We need to keep these things in the forefront."

"Just saying," Peabody grumbled.

She scanned the names, shuffling those with only European residences on record to the bottom. She'd hit the one with secondary residences in the States first.

"Carmichael Smith keeps an apartment on the Upper West Side. Holdreak has a U.S. residence, but it's in New L.A. We'll just drop her down a notch or two."

She started a standard run, studying the names. "Mr. And Mrs. Elliot P. Hawthorne, Esquire. Ages seventy-eight and thirty-one, respectively. You wouldn't think Elliot would be out cutting up LCs at this age. Married two years, third time around. Elliot likes them young, and I just bet he likes them stupid, too."