In Death 17 - Imitation in Death

pockets, too intent on what she was seeing in her head to notice the quick and wary glances tossed her way when her stance revealed her weapon.
     
     
"But that's a mistake, a stupid, cocky mistake. People might not notice some guy walking out of an apartment building with a toolbox, but they , might, just might, notice one walking out with a basket of peaches and a toolbox."
     
     
She crossed ,the street, stood on the next comer, and judged the ground. "Glide-carts aren't going to be up and running that early on a Sunday, not around here. But. the newstands, the coffee shops, the delis, they would be. I want them canvassed. I want to know if anyone noticed a man in maintenance wear, carrying a toolbox and a friggin' basket of peaches."
     
     
"Yes, Sir. Lieutenant, I just want to say it's a real pleasure to watch you work."
     
     
"What're you angling for, Peabody?"
     
     
"No, seriously, it's an education to watch you, see what you see, and how you see it. But now that you mention it, it's pretty hot. Maybe we could, since they are up and running this time of day, get a' drink from the glide-cart there. I'm doing a- Wicked Witch of the West here."
     
     
"A what?
     
     
"You know... I'm melting."
     
     
With a half-Snort, Eve dug credits out of her pocket. "Get me a tube of Pepsi, and tell him if it's not cold I'm going to come over there and hurt him."
     
     
While Peabody clomped off, Eve stood on the corner, her imagination running. He'd have left her here, she decided. Most likely here, a couple, blocks short of the apartment. Had to part, ways on a come, makes the most sense. Probably told her he lived nearby, what he did for a living, little stories about his kid. Lies, all of them, if this was their man.
     
     
And every cell of the cop told her it was.
     
     
Southern, she thought. Had he told-her he was.from the South? Most likely. Used an accent, or had one. Used, she decided. Just another little flourish.
     
     
Peabody came back with the drinks, a scoop of fries, and a veggie kabob. "Got you the scoop, heavy on the salt, so you wouldn't sneer at my kabob."
     
     
"I can still sneer at a kabob. I'll always sneer at veggies on a stick." But she dug into the scoop. "We'll head down this way, swing into the dress shop. Maybe he paid a visit there, too.".
     
     
There were two clerks on duty at the boutique and both began to weep openly the minute Eve mentioned Lois's name. One of them went to the door, put up the Closed sign.
     
     
"I just can't take it in. I keep expecting her to walk in and tell us it was some sort of horrible joke." The tall clerk, with her greyhound's lithe body, patted her companion's back as the younger woman sobbed into her hands. "I was going to close the shop for the day, but I don't know what we'd do with ourselves."
     
     
"This your place?" Eve asked.
     
     
"Yes. Lois worked for me for ten years. She was great, with the staff, with the customers, with the stock. She could've run the place single-handedly if she'd wanted. I'm going to miss her so much."
     
     
"She was like a mother to me." The sobbing woman lifted her head. "1'm getting married in October, and she was helping me with so much of it. We were having the best time with all the plans, and now, now she won't be there."
     
     
"I know this is hard, but I need to ask you some quesdlubs.
     
     
"We want to help Don't we, Addy?"
     
     
"Anything." The woman got her sobbing under control. "Absolutely anything."
     
     
Eve took them through the usual questions, wound her way around to the man Vincenti had described.
     
     
"I don't remember anyone like that coming in recently. Addy?"
     
     
"No, at least not by himself. We get men who come in with their wives or girlfriends, and the occasional solo. But nobody like that in the past few weeks. No one Lois helped or talked to while I was working."
     
     
"How about someone who came in, asked about her?" "There was that man last week, no, the week before. Remember, Myra? He had on a totally mag suit, carried a Mark Cross briefcase."
     
     
"Yes, I remember. He said Lois had helped him the month before on some gifts for his wife, and they were such a big hit he'd stopped by to thank her."
     
     
"What did he look like?"
     
     
"Mmm. Late thirties, tall, nicely built, neat little goatee and wavy brown hair on the long side. He wore it tied back. He never took off his sunshades.
     
     
"Pradas, Continental style." Addy added. "I bought my fiance a