Midnight in Death (In Death #7.5)(21)

“NYPSD,” Eve snapped at him. “On the floor, facedown, hands behind your head. Now!”

“Yes, ma’am, yes, ma’am.” He all but dove to the rug. “I didn’t do anything.” He flinched when Eve dragged his hands down and cuffed them. “I was just going to meet Sunny. She said it would be okay.”

“Who the hell are you?”

“Jimmy. Jimmy Ripsky. I go to college with Sunny. We’re on winter break. She said her parents were out of town for a few days and we could use the place.”

Eve holstered her weapon in disgust. The boy was shaking like a leaf. “Get him a blanket or something, Dalrymple. This isn’t our man.” She dragged him to his feet and had enough pity in her to uncuff him before gesturing to a chair. “Let’s here the whole story, Jimmy.”

“That’s it. Um”—cringing with embarrassment, he folded his arms over his crotch—“Sunny and I are, like, an item.”

“And who’s Sunny?”

“Sunny Polinsky. Sheila, I guess. Everybody calls her Sunny. This is her parents’ place. Man, her father’s going to kill me if he finds out.”

“She called you?”

“Yeah. Well, no.” He looked up with desperate gratitude when Dalrymple came in with a chenille throw. “I got an E-mail from her this morning and a package. She said her parents were going south for the week and how I should come over tonight. About midnight, let myself in with the key she’d sent me. And I should, um, you know, get comfortable.” He tucked the throw more securely around his legs. “She said she’d be here by twelve-thirty and I should, well, ah, be waiting in bed.” He moistened his lips. “It was pretty, sort of, explicit for Sunny.”

“Do you still have the E-mail? The package the key came in?”

“I dumped the package in the recycler, but I’ve got the E-mail. I printed it out. It’s… it’s a keeper, you know?”

“Right. Detective, call in your partner and my aide.”

“Um, ma’am?” Jimmy began when Dalrymple turned away with his communicator.

“Dallas. Lieutenant.”

“Yes, ma’am, Lieutenant. What’s going on? Is Sunny okay?”

“She’s fine. She’s with her parents.”

“But—she said she’d be here.”

“I think someone else sent you that keeper E-mail. Somebody who wanted me to have a little something extra to do tonight.” But she sat, pulled out her palm-link. “I’m going to check out your story, Jimmy. If it all fits, Detective Dalrymple’s going to arrange for a uniform to take you home. You can give him the printout of the E-mail—and your computer.”

“My computer? But—”

“It’s police business,” she said shortly. “You’ll get it back.”

“Well, that was fun,” Peabody said when Eve re-secured the door.

“A barrel of laughs.”

“Poor kid. He was mortified. Here he was thinking he was going to have the sex of his dreams with his girl, and he gets busted.”

“The fact that a rosebud managed to preserve most of his modesty tells me that the sex of his dreams outruns the reality.” At Peabody’s snort, Eve turned to the elevator. “Sunny backed up his story about them being an item. Not that I doubted it. The kid was too scared to lie. So… Dave’s been keeping up with the social activities of his marks. He knows the family, the friends, and he knows how to use them.”

She stepped out of the elevator, crossed the lobby. “For an MD in a maximum lockup, he managed to get his hands on plenty of data.”

She paused at the door and simply stood for a moment looking out at the thin, steady snow. “You got off-planet clearance, Peabody?”

“Sure. It’s a job requirement.”

“Right. Well, go home and pack a bag. I want you on your way to Rexal on the first transport we can arrange. You and McNab can check out the facilities, find the unit Palmer had access to.”

The initial rush from the idea of an off-planet assignment turned to ashes in her mouth. “McNab? I don’t need McNab.”

“When you find the unit, you’ll need a good electronics man.” Eve opened the door, and the blast of cold cooled the annoyed flush on Peabody’s cheeks.

“He’s a pain in the ass.”

“Sure he is, but he knows his job. If Feeney can spare him, you’re the off-planet team.” She reached for her communicator, intending to interrupt Feeney’s sleep and get the ball rolling. A scream from the end of the block had her drawing her weapon instead.

She pounded west, boots digging into the slick sidewalk. With one quick gesture, she signaled Dalrymple to stay at his post in the surveillance van.

She saw the woman first, wrapped in sleek black fur, clinging to a man with an overcoat over a tux. He was trying to shield her face and muffle her mouth against his shoulder. The pitch and volume of her screams indicated he wasn’t doing a very good job of it.

“Police!” He shouted it as he saw Peabody and Eve running toward them. “Here’s the police, honey. My God, my God, what’s this city coming to? He threw it out, threw it out right at our feet.”

It, Eve saw, was Carl Neissan. His naked and broken body lay face up against the curb. His head had been shaved, she noted, and the tender skin abraded and burned. His knees were shattered, his protruding tongue blackened. Around his neck, digging deep, was the signature noose. And the message carved into his chest was still red and raw.