Imitation in Death (In Death #17)(32)

"DeSalvo," she muttered. "Good Christ."

Then she blanked it out, blanked it all out so she would walk into the scene with no set images or preconceptions in her head.

"I need a field kit and a recorder."

"Brought them up when we got word you were tagged away from home."

She forgave him for his comments about the car. "Scene's secured?" she.questioned.

"Yes, Sir. We've got the son in the kitchen, with a uniform and an MT. He's in bad shape. He says he didn't touch her." "My aide's on her way. Send her in when she gets here. You have to stay out," she said to Roarke.

"Understood." But he felt a quick wrench that he would remain closed out while she walked into what was going to be another nightmare.

She marched in the open door, noted there were no signs of forced entry nor of struggle in the neat, simple living area. There were plain blue curtains at the window, sheer enough to let in the light. No privacy screens were engaged.. She squatted down to examine a few drops of blood on the edge of an area rug.

She could hear weeping from another room. The son in the kitchen, she thought, then blocked it out. Rising, she gestured the other cops back, sealed up, fixed on her recorder, then went into the bedroom.

Lois Gregg lay on the bed, nude, still bound; with the sash that had strangled her around her neck tied just under her chin in a festive bow.

The creamy envelope with Eve's name printed on the front was stuck between the toes of her left foot.

There was more blood-not as much as Wooton-on the plain white sheets, on her thighs, on the broomstick he'd left on the floor.

She was a small woman, probably no more than a hundred and ten pounds, with the caramel complexion that indicated mixed-race heritage.

Broken capillaries in her face, in her eyes, the distended and swollen tongue, were signs of the strangulation. The body fought back, Eve thought. Even after the mind went dark, the body fought for air. For life.

Eve spotted the long green robe beside the bed.: He'd used the robe sash to strangle her.

He'd have wanted you conscious when he hurt you. He'd want to see your face, the pain, the horror, the terror. Yes, he'd want that this time. He'd want to hear you scream. Nice building like this ought to have decent soundproofing. He'd checked it out, checked you out before today. Did he tell you what he was going to do to you? Or did he work in silence while you begged?

She recorded the scene, documenting the position of the body, the placement of the robe, the broomstick, the carefully drawn curtains..

Then she took the envelope, opened it, and read.

Hello again, Lieutenant Dallas. Isn't it a gorgeous day? A day that just begs for heading down to the shore or strolling through the park. I hate to interrupt your Sunday, but you seem to enjoy your work so much---as I do mine-that I didn't then you'd mind. I'm a little disappointed in you, however, for a couple of reasons. First, tsk, tsk, on stonewalling the reports on me. I was really looking forward to the buzz. Then again, you're not going to be able to keep a lid on the banal too much longer. Second, I thought you d be giving me just a bit more of a challenge by this point. Hopefully, my latest offer will inspire you. Best of luck Al

"Self-important bastard, aren't you?" she stated aloud, then sealed the note and-envelope before opening the field kit. -

She'd completed the preliminary exam when Peabody came in. "Lieutenant, I'm sorry. We were in the Bronx."

"What the hell were you..." She broke off. "What is that? What are you wearing?"

"It's a, um, ah, it's a sundress." Flushing a little, Peabody brushed a hand over the poppy pink skirt. "It took us so long to get back,

I thought I should come straight here instead of heading home to change into uniform."

"Huh." The dress also had skinny little shoulder snaps and a very low bodice. It demonstrated what McNab was fond of saying: Peabody sure was built.

Peabody's ruler-straight hair was covered by a widebrimmed straw hat, and she was wearing lip dye that matched the sundress. "How are you supposed to work in that getup?' "Well, I "

"You said we? You brought McNab?"

"Yeah. Yes, sir. We were at the zoo. In the Bronx." "That's something anyway. Tell him to go check the out side security, and the discs for the lobby level and elevators. This building should have them."

"Yes, sir."

She went out to relay the order as Eve walked into the adjoining bath,

. He could've washed up after, she figured, but there was no sign of it. The bath was tidy, the towels looked fresh. Lois hadn't liked fuss, Eve mused, or clutter.

Must have brought his own soap and towel, too, or took some away with him.

"We'll want the sweepers to check the drains. Might get lucky," she said as Peabody came back in.

"I don't get it. This isn't like Wooton. Nothing like Wooton. Different type of victim, different method. There was another note?"

"Yeah. It's sealed."

Peabody studied the scene, tried to commit it to memory as the recorder did. She noticed, as Eve had, the little vase of flowers on the nightstand, the square catchall box on the dresser that said I LOVE GRANDMA in pink swirly letters on the top, and the framed photos ' and bolos that stood on the dresser, the nightstand, the small desk by the window.