Imitation in Death (In Death #17)(50)

"What did he say?"

"Don't recall that he did. Smiled a lot. Had on a ball cap, now that I think. And sunshades. This heat, most everybody's got on a cap and shades."

"Tall, short?'

"Ah, damn me." He mopped at his sweatyy face with the bandanna now. "Taller than me, but who the hell isn't? I-top out at five six. We were busy, and -I wasn't paying much attention. She was doing all the talking, like always. She asked me to put some peaches aside for her the next week. She was going to her daughter's in -Jersey Sunday next, whole family deal, and she wanted to take her some peaches 'cause her girl had a fondness for them."

"She come in for them?"

"Sure, this past Friday. Five pounds. I put them in a little basket for her, let her take them home in it 'cause she's a good customer."

"The guy who went out with her, has he come back?"

"I haven't seen him again. I don't come in on Wednesdays, like to golf on Wednesdays, so he coulda come -in and I wouldn't know. But if he'd :core back any other day, I'm here. You think that's the guy? You think that's the sick prick who killed Mrs. Gregg?"

"Just covering the ground, Mr. Vincenti. I appreciate the help."

"You need any more, you need anything, you come see me. She was a jewel."

"You think he might be the killer," Peabody said as they walked the neighborhood, following the route Leah had outlined for them.

"I -think he was being a smart-ass, introducing himself with the name Al-Albert DeSalvo, the method he planned to use for her murder. I think it would have been a very smart way to feel her out, coming to the market, putting on the baffled. single-daddy routine. If he'd scoped out the area, looking for a woman, a single woman of her age group, spotted her, considered her while he was trolling, he'd have watched her routine, gotten her name, looked up her data, so he'd know she volunteered at a kid care place."

He knew how to research, Eve thought. Knew how to take his time, get the data, digest it before he made a move.

"A woman does time in day care, voluntarily, she's into kids, so he tells her he's got a kid when he makes his first contact."

She nodded as she spoke, as she studied the neighborhood. It was smart. It was simple. "Good place to make that contact is the market. Ask her for advice, give her a story about having a kid needing day care. Walk her part of the way home. Not all the way. He doesn't have to, he knows where she lives. Just like he knows her plans for Sunday. Next Sunday, the following, so he can have plenty of time to watch her, get it all down, plan it out, enjoy the anticipation."

She stopped on the corner, watched people walk by, most with the native New York stare that stopped well short of eye contact. Not a tourist sector, she acknowledged. People lived and worked here, went about their business.

"She'd have strolled, though," Eve said aloud. "Strolled along with him, chatting, giving him what seemed like harmless little details of her life. Peaches for her daughter, but there wasn't a basket of peaches in the apartment on Sunday. He took them. A nice edible souvenir to go with the ring. Walked out of her place after he did what he did, carrying a little basket of fruit. I bet he got a real kick out of that, really enjoyed taking a big juicy bite."

Feet planted, she. hooked her thumbs in her pockets, too intent on what she was seeing in her head to notice the quick and wary glances tossed her way when her stance revealed her weapon.

"But that's a mistake, a stupid, cocky mistake. People might not notice some guy walking out of an apartment building with a toolbox, but they , might, just might, notice one walking out with a basket of peaches and a toolbox."

She crossed ,the street, stood on the next comer, and judged the ground. "Glide-carts aren't going to be up and running that early on a Sunday, not around here. But. the newstands, the coffee shops, the delis, they would be. I want them canvassed. I want to know if anyone noticed a man in maintenance wear, carrying a toolbox and a friggin' basket of peaches."

"Yes, Sir. Lieutenant, I just want to say it's a real pleasure to watch you work."

"What're you angling for, Peabody?"

"No, seriously, it's an education to watch you, see what you see, and how you see it. But now that you mention it, it's pretty hot. Maybe we could, since they are up and running this time of day, get a' drink from the glide-cart there. I'm doing a- Wicked Witch of the West here."

"A what?

"You know... I'm melting."

With a half-Snort, Eve dug credits out of her pocket. "Get me a tube of Pepsi, and tell him if it's not cold I'm going to come over there and hurt him."

While Peabody clomped off, Eve stood on the corner, her imagination running. He'd have left her here, she decided. Most likely here, a couple, blocks short of the apartment. Had to part, ways on a come, makes the most sense. Probably told her he lived nearby, what he did for a living, little stories about his kid. Lies, all of them, if this was their man.

And every cell of the cop told her it was.

Southern, she thought. Had he told-her he was.from the South? Most likely. Used an accent, or had one. Used, she decided. Just another little flourish.

Peabody came back with the drinks, a scoop of fries, and a veggie kabob. "Got you the scoop, heavy on the salt, so you wouldn't sneer at my kabob."