Obsession in Death (In Death #40)(91)

“They dressed their ‘dollies’ in trashy underwear and skimpy bikinis.”

“Well, of course. Why don’t I have a look?”

“Because of the trashy underwear?”

“Such things are always a factor, but for now, to see the concept.”

She set it up, then stood studying the images on screen with him.

Head angled, he smiled. “Hmm. We’d need to include weapons. An ax – perhaps a halberd – maybe a boomer, definitely a vial of poison.”

“What?”

“Sorry, the game idea. It’s intriguing. The body type… No, you’re not looking for fragile or soft. She carried the dead weight of a full-grown woman. She outran you.”

“She didn’t outrun me,” Eve protested, insulted. “She had a street-wide lead plus, because I had to dodge traffic to get across.”

“Apologies.” But his lips twitched. “I mean to say she’s quick. How far did you chase her?”

“Two and a half blocks, not counting through the restaurant.”

“Quick and at least some endurance as all this would’ve been as flat-out as possible. So the odds are she’s in shape.”

“She runs,” Eve stated, then cocked her head. “She’s fast, yeah, yeah, and likely fit. Maybe she trains. A fitness center maybe, keep in tune. She had Bastwick planned all the way through, I’m sure of it. So she knew she’d have to carry her from the living area to the bedroom since she wanted her on the bed. And – shit.”

“What?”

“I’m an idiot. She put her in bed. She killed Ledo in bed.”

Eve began to pace. “I don’t know what she planned for Hastings. No way she would carry him all the way upstairs. But he’s got props, right? In the studio. Something that could stand in for a bed. That’s what she’d use for him. Why in bed? Why does she put them or take them in bed?”

“Vulnerability? Sleep, sex, sickness. Wouldn’t those be the top reasons for being in bed? All of those make you vulnerable.”

“Good, that’s good.” Struck, she pointed a finger at him. “They’re vulnerable, she’s in control. And it’s tidy, too, isn’t it? She doesn’t leave them sprawled on the floor. She cuts out the tongue – that’s a statement – but doesn’t otherwise mutilate. Tidy. And a bed, it’s like a display. Here’s your present.”

She told him about the holo program she’d run, the time lag. How she calculated the killer had used it.

“You challenged her today. The media conference.”

“I need to piss her off, shake her up. I think I did. And chasing after her added to it. I’m betting she’s not feeling real friendly toward me right now.”

“You’d like her to come after you. In your place, I’d want the same. But that’s not likely to be her next move, is it?”

“No, not likely. Kill me, the whole thing’s finished. She’s given me gifts, and I just haven’t appreciated them properly.”

“If we equate the two murders as giving you something – which hasn’t been fully appreciated,” Roarke considered, “it follows that now she’ll want to take something away.”

“Yeah.” And something would be someone she cared about. “I’m going to tag some people before I get down to things.”

“I’ll just copy that morphing program.” He did so, with a couple of quick clicks. “And send it to the lab. I may be able to add to it.”

“For the case or for the game?”

He smiled, brushed a fingertip over the dent in her chin. “I can do both, Lieutenant. Why don’t we say pie and coffee a bit later?”

“That works. If you’ve got time, Feeney had this other angle. Geek angle,” she added, and laid out the search-and-match idea.

“All right, I’ll set it up. It won’t be quick.”

“He said the same.”

Alone, she started down the list. It made her feel better, just to touch base, to repeat the need for caution. Better yet, everyone she contacted was in for the night.

Really, who wanted to go out in the bitter the night before New Year’s Eve?

That’s the night she had to worry about, she decided. When so many she knew and cared about would be out at some party, some shindig.

She didn’t think her killer would take someone in public. But what better time to get into a target’s empty place, lie in wait?

If she didn’t have the suspect in a cage by the eve, she’d set up some sort of surveillance on potential targets’ houses, apartments.

“But you’re going for somebody tonight, aren’t you? You missed last night. You have to make up for it. You had to run twice now, and once from your… bestie,” she muttered, thinking of Mavis’s term. “Hard on a girl’s self-esteem. You need a win, and you need it bad.”

Considering, Eve brought ID shots on screen.

Not Mavis, she decided, studying the official shot where Mavis had opted for a cotton-candy-pink poof of hair and electric green eyes. Low probability on Mavis and her family.

Same with Peabody and McNab, with Feeney – who looked as if he’d slept in the dung-brown suit and industrial-beige shirt. Too risky, at this point, to go for a cop, so she included all the cops in her division.