In Death 17 - Imitation in Death

from Mitchell's loft. "I'm sure that's entertaining-"
     
     
"You have no idea."
     
     
"But let's try to keep to the program. It's possible if we go in as a couple, straight- in, he won't make me if he's staking out the building. I don't think he's around tonight..I think he's in some bolt-hole, putting it all together. Odds are we've got time, but I can't be sure. Marsonini always hit his victims between two and three A.M. We're plenty early if he's marked her for tonight. But I want us to walk straight, to the building, and in. How fast can you get through the security?"
     
     
"Time me."
     
     
"Let's move."
     
     
"I think you should hold my hand," he said as they started down the ramp. "You'll look less like a cop."
     
     
"Take the left." She switched sides with him. "I want my weapon hand free."
     
     
"Naturally." Even as he gave her arm a playful little swing, he saw her eyes, those cop's, eyes, tracking, scanning, dissecting every shadow. "I'll need. my hands free at the door.. You could ease behind me. It wouldn't hurt to give my butt an affectionate little pat."
     
     
"What for?"
     
     
"Because I like it."
     
     
She ignored that, but did move behind him slightly as they climbed the short flight of ,steps to the building's entrance.
     
     
"It's cooled off considerably. I think we're done with the worst of the heat for the year."
     
     
"Hmm. Maybe."
     
     
"Why don't you lean in a bit, nuzzle my neck?"
     
     
"For cover, or because you like it?"
     
     
"As a kind of reward," he said and opened the door.
     
     
She hadn't even seen him finesse the lock. "You're pretty fucking slick," she commented and stepped in ahead of him.
     
     
She walked straight back to the steps rather than hassle with the elevator's security system. That would open, once cleared, directly into Mitchell's loft. Less traumatizing, Eve hoped, to knock on the hall door on the third level, and gain admittance that way.
     
     
"His log shows an appointment with her here, this afternoon," Eve continued. "That tells me he's already bunged up her loft security, and plans to move in tonight, tomorrow latest. I need to get her out, but I don't want cops around yet. We'll set up a unit in the morning, early." She knocked on the door, held up her badge, then turned to smile at Roarke.
     
     
"So I'm giving her to you. You'll transport her to Central, and she'll be transferred to a safe house until this goes down."
     
     
"And you plan to stay here tonight, alone? I don't think so."
     
     
"I outrank you."
     
     
Eve heard the click of the speaker engage, and the puzzled Yes? that came through it.
     
     
"Police, Ms. Mitchell. We need to speak with you."
     
     
"What's this about?"
     
     
"I'd like to come in."
     
     
"It's nearly midnight." Katie opened the door a crack. "Is something wrong? Has there been a break-in?"
     
     
"I'd like to discuss this inside."
     
     
She studied Eve's badge again, then glanced at Roarke. The double take was almost comical. "I know you." It was reverent. "Oh my God."
     
     
"Ms. Mitchell." Eve had to order herself not to act annoyed as Katie brushed at her hair with her hand. "May we come in?"
     
     
"Um. Yes. Okay. I was just going to bed," she said, apology in her voice as she tugged at the belt of a thin pink robe. "I wasn't expecting... anybody."
     
     
The living area was spacious and simple, with an opening on one side through which Eve could see a small bedroom.
     
     
And through the opening on the other side was a larger, professional-looking office.
     
     
A long, galley-style kitchen was behind a low wall. She imagined the other door, which was discreetly closed, led to the bath.
     
     
Good windows, probably let in considerable light during the day, she judged. Two exits, including the elevator.
     
     
"Ms. Mitchell, you had an appointment today with this man."
     
     
Eve took a photo of Renquist from her bag.
     
     
"No," Katie said after a quick look. Her gaze went back to, and held on Roarke's face. "Would you like to sit down?"
     
     
"Would you please look at this picture again, more carefully, and tell me if this man was your three o'clock appointment this afternoon."
     
     
"My three o'clock? No, he was... oh, wait, It is Mr. Marsonini. But he had red hair. Long red hair done in a braid. And he wore these little blue, sunshades the entire time. A little affected, I thought, but he was Italian."
     
     
"Was he?"
     
     
"Yes. He had a really charming