In Death 13 - Seduction in Death

hear very much. They seemed to be arguing, but good-naturedly, over which of them would start the game. They were in very high spirits. And it amused me when I was taking an order from station six that the gentlemen in five were flipping a coin."
    Bryna Bankhead, Eve thought, had died on the flip of a coin. "I need you to work with an imaging tech, Jamal."
    "I'm afraid I won't be able to describe him very well."
    "Let us worry about that. We appreciate your cooperation. You've been a really big help. Someone will contact you about the imaging."
    "All right." He glanced at Roarke, got the nod of approval, and rose. "I hope whatever I've told you helps you stop him from hurting anyone else."
    "Jamal." Roarke got to his feet. "I'll speak to your supervisor. You'll be paid for whatever time you need to take off to assist the police. Any lost time won't affect your benefits or salary."
    "Thank you, sir."
    "We run the ring," Eve snapped the minute the doors closed behind Jamal. "Every jewelry store in New York that does custom work. Order an imaging tech, priority one."
    "On it," Peabody replied.
    "Lieutenant?" Roarke's voice stopped her before she'd taken two steps toward the door.
    "What?"
    "Where are you going?"
    "Central, to review the security discs. See if I can spot the rings."
    "You can do that here. And on this equipment, a great deal faster. Computer, replay security disc, Royal Bar, June six, twenty-two forty-five."
    Working... Display selection?
    "Wait a minute? You've got visual security on the lounge?"
    "I believe in being thorough."
    She cursed under her breath. "You could've mentioned it."
    "Seeing it's so much more effective. Wall screen one."
    The lounge spilled onto the screen, all opulence and color. The elegant sat at tables or glided on the dance floor while those who served them moved with seamless efficiency from table to booth, from booth to what she assumed was the kitchen.
    The images sped up as Roarke manually ordered fast-forward.
    "He should be coming along any... Ah." He stopped the progress, froze the screen.
    Eve stepped closer, concentrating on his hands. "Can't see the ring from this angle. Play it forward." She waited, watched him speak briefly to the evening hostess. Watched him being led to his reserved booth. His hands were under the table and out of view when Jamal stepped up to greet him.
    "Come on, come on, come on," Eve urged. "Scratch your nose or something."
    Jamal returned with the bottle of champagne, the flutes. Completed the setup. But when he offered to pour the wine, he was impatiently waved away.
    "Freeze image," Eve ordered, but Roarke already had.
    "Increase sector twenty through thirty, fifty percent."
    When Roarke repeated her request, Eve realized the unit was set for his voice command only. Any irritation she might have felt was overpowered by the satisfaction of seeing the ruby ring in full detail. "I want a printout of that."
    "How many?"
    "Give me a dozen. And transfer this disc run to my office unit and Peabody's PPC."
    Peabody opened her mouth, then wisely decided not to ask how a civilian could transfer data to an official unit without pass codes and electronic authorization.
    "Let's see if we can save some time. Peabody, I want you to do 'link calls to the jewelers. Show them the image of the ring. See if we can tag the shop or craftsman who made it. Is there a place she can set up here, for maybe an hour?" Eve asked Roarke.
    "Of course." He contacted his executive assistant on the interoffice communicator. "Ariel, Officer Peabody requires a private workspace. She'll meet you at main."
    He glanced at Peabody. "Just go out to the main reception this floor. Ariel will take care of it."
    "Great." And with visions of another sparkling mango in her future, Peabody headed out.
    "You'll want to see the rest of this," Roarke said, and resumed play at normal speed and range.
    On-screen, the killer lined the flutes side by side. He poured a half glass of each, scanning the room as they foamed and bubbled. His hand lifted, hovered over one of the glasses.
    "Freeze. Enhance."
    She walked to within inches of the screen and saw clearly the trickle of clear liquid spilling from his hand into the glass. "When I get this bastard, the PA's going to do fucking cartwheels over this disc. Resume play, same enhancement, quarter speed. There, there, look at that. He's got a vial palmed in his hand. Pre-measured or I'm a monkey's butt."
    "And I can attest you're not. Time stamp,"