Visions in Death (In Death #19)(10)

"Ah, there's someone here who wants to speak to you."

"Pertinent?"

"Well..."

"I don't have time to chat." Eve turned around. "We'll check in with Morris at the morgue, then head uptown. I have to be back here to meet with Mira."

"Yeah, well, she's very insistent. Claims to have information. She looks normal."

"As opposed to? If someone's come in with information regarding the current investigation, why didn't you just say so?"

"Because—" Peabody debated letting Eve find out for herself, or protecting her own skin. It was a short debate. "She says she's a psychic."

Eve stopped dead. "Oh, come on. Feed her to the liaison. You know better than to let the loonies in."

"She's registered and licensed. And she pulled the pal card."

"I don't have psychic pals. It's a firm policy."

"No, it's the mutual-friend deal."

"Mavis has all kinds of looney friends. I don't let them into my office."

"Not Mavis. She claims to be a friend of Louise's. Dr. Dimatto. The really normal, upstanding Dr. D. And she's shook, Dallas. Her hands are trembling."

"Hell. We give her ten minutes." She checked her wrist unit, and as a buffer set it to signal in ten. "Bring her in."

Eve sat, brooded. This is what happened when you went and made friends. They had to go out and make friends, and then those friends somehow insinuated themselves into your life, or your work. Before you knew it you were hip-deep in people.

And half of them were crazy.

All right, she amended. Not all psychics were crazy or scamming. Some of them—a very few some of them—were legit. She was well aware that law enforcement sometimes used sensitives to good effect.

But she didn't use them. She believed in doing the job through investigative procedure, technological processes, evidentiary study, deduction. Then you tossed in instinct, luck, and some ass-kicking.

That worked just fine for her.

She went for coffee now.

She turned from the AutoChef, cup in hand as the woman came to the door with Peabody.

She looked normal. Her hair was long, waving past her shoulders in a perfectly normal shade of brown. A dark and glossy brown that looked as if it might have been the one God opted for when he put her together. Her skin was dusky and smooth, her eyes a clear and pale green that showed nerves, but seemed sane, as they met Eve's directly.

The face was strong and sexy with one of those lush mouths and a thin, aquiline nose. Mexican or Spanish blood, Eve assumed. Ancestors who'd baked in the heat and strummed guitars. Exotic.

Eve put her in the middle thirties. Judged her to be about five six, with a toned, disciplined build.

She wore casual and well-cut pants with a long shirt, both the color of summer poppies, a couple of rings with deeply-colored stones, and dangles at her ears—slim drops of gold.

"Lieutenant Dallas. This is Celina Sanchez."

"Okay, Ms. Sanchez, have a seat. I'm pressed for time, so why don't we get right to it."

"All right." She sat, folded her hands tightly together on her lap. She breathed in and out once. "He took her eyes."

Chapter Three

"Well, now that I've got your attention..." Celina unhooked her fingers to press two to her right temple, as if to compress a pain. "Could I have some of that coffee?"

Eve stayed where she was, sipping her own. They hadn't released the mutilation details to the media. But there were leaks, she knew. There were always leaks.

Her voice was shaky, and carried no accent. It was husky, a shade on the provocative side. "How did you get this information, Ms. Sanchez?"

"I saw it, and it's not an image I enjoyed."

"You saw the victim in Central Park?"

"Yes. But I wasn't in the park. I was in my home. I'm here to explain it to you. I'd really appreciate the coffee."

Eve sent Peabody a brief nod. "You knew Elisa Maplewood?"

"No. Before we go any further, I've never worked with the police. It's not what I do and not something I aspire to."

She used her hands when she talked, lifting them, gesturing in a manner that told Eve it was habitual. Then she gripped them together in her lap as if to hold them still.

"I don't want to see what you see, Lieutenant. I don't want to live with those images in my head. Primarily, I do private consultations and parties. I'm not a lunatic or a glory-seeker, though from what Louise has told me about you, I imagine you think I am."

"How do you know Louise Dimatto?"

"We went to school together, and we've remained friendly since. Thanks." She took the cup of coffee Peabody handed her. "You're more open to extra-normal areas, Detective. Do you have sensitives in your family?"

"Ah, I—"

"Let's keep this about you," Eve interrupted.

"All right." Celina sampled the coffee, and smiled for the first time since she'd come into the room. "This is wonderful, and I can tell you, frankly, I need the jolt. I had a dream."

"Uh-huh."

Celina's smile only widened. "The snarkiness settles me down. Who knew? Louise also said I'd like you, Lieutenant Dallas. Oddly enough, I think she's probably right."