Imitation in Death (In Death #17)(8)

"A great deal. He got messy, even coming from behind. For the rest, it's one long incision." This Morris drew with a finger in the air. "Quickly, even economically done, I'd say. You can't call it neat, or surgical, but this wasn't his fast time. He's cut into flesh before. More than sims, in my opinion. He had to have dealt with flesh and blood before thus poor woman."

"Not surgical. Not a doctor then?"

"I wouldn't rule it out. He'd have been in a hurry, the light was poor, his own excitement, fear, arousal." Morris's exotic face mirrored his inner disgust. "Whatever drives this sort of... well, words fail me for once. Whatever drove him might very well have hampered his skill. He removed the female organs with, we'll say, dispatch. It's not possible to say if there was sexual contact before the removal. But from the time of death, the mutilation, there wouldn't have been time, for games as they were. done minutes apart''

"Would you peg him as a medical? MT, vet, nurse?" She paused, deliberately, cocked her head. "Pathologist?"

He gave Eve a small grin. "Possible, certainly. It took some considerable skill given the circumstances. But then again, he didn't have to concern himself about the patient's chances of survival. He needed some knowledge of anatomy, some knowledge of the tools he used on her. I would say he certainly studied, certainly practiced, but it may not have been with a medical license, and again may not have been with the goal of keeping the patient alive. I hear there was a note."

"Yeah. Addressed to me, which ensured I'd come on as primary."

"So he's made it personal."

"You could even say intimate."

"I'll have the test results and report to you as soon as I can. I want to run a few more, see if I can get a closer handle on the knives."

"Good. Take it easy, Morris."

"Oh, I just take it," he said as she started for the door. "Dallas? Thank you."

She glanced back. "Sure."

She gestured to Peabody as she headed down the corridor. "Tell me what -I want to know."

"The lab, after considerable brown-nosing by yours truly, was able to discern that the material used in the note and envelope is of a particular grade of bond. It's not even recycled, which not only shocks my Free-Ager heart, but means it had to be sold and manufactured outside of the United States and its territories. We have laws here."

Eve lifted her eyebrows as she walked back out into the heat. "I thought Free-Agers didn't believe in man-made laws of government interference in society."

"We do when it suits our purposes." Peabody slid into the car. "It's English. The paper was manufactured in Britain, and is available in only a handful of outlets around Europe."

"Not available in New York."

"No, sir. In fact, it's difficult to buy it through the Internet or mail order as we have unrecycled paper products on our banned list in this country."

"Mmm-hmm." Eve's brain clicked several steps ahead, but as Peabody was studying for her detective's exam, she thought it was a good pop-quiz question. "So how did it get from Europe to an alley in Chinatown?"

"Well, people smuggle all sorts of banned products into the States. Or use the black market. Or if you're traveling on another passport, touring or visiting the U.S., you're allowed a certain' number of personal possessions that aren't strictly kosher. You could even be a diplomat or something. But whatever, you'd have to pay the price, and it's high. That particular paper goes for twenty Euro dollars a pop. One sheet. The envelope's twelve."

"Lab boys tell you that?"

"No, sir. Since I was sitting out there, I checked it out myself.,,

"Good work. You got the outlets?"

"All the knowns. Though the paper's manufactured exclusively in Britain, there are sixteen known retailers and two known wholesalers who cant' this particular style and weight. Two are in London."

"Is that so?"

"I thought, since he's copying Jack the Ripper, the London angle was the best."

"Start there. We'll pursue all the outlets, but London will be, priority. See if you can get a list for purchases of that paper"

"Yes, sir. Lieutenant, about this morning. I know I didn't do the job-"

"Peabody," Eve interrupted. "Did I say you didn't do the job?"

"No, but-"

"Has there been any time since you came under my command that I've hesitated to tell you when I felt you didn't do the job to my requirements, or that I was dissatisfied with your performance, or that you'd screwed up in any way,.shape, or form?"

"Ah, well, no, sir." Peabody puffed out her cheeks, expelled air audibly. "Now that you mention it."

"Then put it away, and get me those client lists."

At Central, she was waylaid in the detectives' bull pen with questions, rumors, speculation about the Wooton homicide. If cops were buzzing about a case, she knew the public would be screaming.

She escaped to her office, hit the AutoChef for coffee first, then called for her messages and missed transmissions.

She stopped counting the hits' from reporters when she reached twenty. But six of those. were from Nadine Furst at Channel 75.