Visions in Death (In Death #19)(35)

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"What is it?" Peabody demanded.

"Potentially? His practice sessions. Look at her. Same physical type as Maplewood. Same age group, same coloring, same basic build."

Peabody came in, mirroring Eve's earlier position by leaning over her shoulder. "No resemblance—beyond surface I mean—but yeah, same basic type."

"Computer, split screen for second image, list date on each."

Working... Task complete.

"Thumbs-up for McNab," Eve mumbled.

"Don't look like sisters," Peabody commented. "Cousins, maybe."

"Marjorie Kates," Eve read. "Age thirty-two. Unmarried, no kids, midtown address. Employed as restaurant manager. Reported missing by fiancé, April second of this year. Didn't come home from work. Lansing and Jones caught this one. Second is Breen Merriweather. Age thirty. Divorced, one child—son, age five—Upper East Side. Employed as a studio tech, Channel 75. Reported missing by childcare provider, June ten, this year. Didn't return home after her shift. Polinski and Silk caught it."

"I need these files, Peabody. I need to talk to these detectives."

"On it."

———«»——————«»——————«»———

Since Lansing and Jones worked out of Central, it only took trips on three glides and one elevator to get to their division.

She found them both at desks, facing each other.

"Detectives Lansing and Jones? Lieutenant Dallas, Detective Peabody. Appreciate the time."

"Lansing." The bull- chested, redheaded cop of about fifty stuck out a hand. "No problem, Lieutenant. You think one of yours is connected to one of ours."

"I need to check it out."

"Jones." The petite, thirtyish black woman shook Eve's hand, then Peabody's. "Fiancé, Royce Cabel, came in to make the report. She was only missing overnight, but the guy was a mess."

"Last seen when she left the restaurant— Appetitoon East Fifty-eighth—at closing, about midnight, April first."

"She lived about three blocks away, usually walked back and forth. Guy's expecting her home by twelve-thirty, he says, but he falls asleep. When he wakes up, about two, she's not there. He flips, calls around to everybody he can think of. Then he's here, bright and early next morning to talk to the cops."

"She poofs three weeks before the wedding," Lansing continued. "So you look at a couple things. Maybe her feet got cold and she took off. Maybe they had a fight and he offs her, comes in to report to cover it up."

"But it doesn't play." Jones shook her head. "We got copies of the reports, our notes, witness statements, interviews for you. You can see everybody we talked to said Kates was hip-deep in wedding plans. She and Cabel had been cohabbing for about eighteen months. Got nothing on him that points to violence."

"Took a Truth Test. Didn't even blink when we suggested it."

"She got dead," Jones said. "That's my gut on it, Lieutenant."

"And we got nothing, until you buzzed us up."

"I don't know if we've got anything now. Any problem if I talk to some of the people on your list?"

"Nope." Lansing pulled his lip. "How about a clue?"

"We're on the sexual homicide/mutilation in Central Park. Our vic's the same physical type as your MR. I'm pursuing the theory that he's done some practicing."

"Well, shit," Jones said.

———«»——————«»——————«»———

"We can go by Polinski's and Silk's station on the way to see this Royce Cabel."

"How about the gyms with sweaty guys with thick necks?"

"We'll move on it."

Because it was faster, they squeezed on an elevator to ride down to garage level. Eve did her best to ignore the elbow wedged in her ribs. "I want us to give Nadine an interview."

"Because of the 75 connection?"

"Not just. I'm thinking it might grate our big, strong man to see three women dissing him on-screen. To know two women are heading the investigation."

"There's a thought."

Several people pushed their way off when the doors opened. Eve glanced up, noted she had three levels to go. "Why don't we see if we can set up the interview later today?"

"At Central?"

"Yeah. Central Park. At last." Eve all but leaped out of the doors when they hit the garage.

"Dallas, wait!" Peabody grabbed her arm, dug in her heels. "I have something to tell you."

"Make it snappy."

"I want to say first, that in just a few moments, you're going to be overcome with a powerful urge to kiss me on the lips. I won't think less of you for it."

"Peabody, why, even in your wild, perverted dreams—dreams I want no part in or of—would I ever have the least compunction to kiss you on the lips?"

"Close your eyes."