In Death 19 - Visions in Death

hold with rape. Worse than killing, you ask me." He shoved at the debris on his desk until he unearthed an ancient portable computer.
    Peabody heaved out a breath when they were back on the street. "That was an experience. My olfactory sense is still in shock. It may take a week to recover. Some of the places we hit yesterday were a little ripe, and you could say colorful.
    But that wins the trophy." "We've got another one to go. Second craft place is two blocks west. We'll hit that, double back, and take the next gym." Peabody calculated the distance already hiked, the distance yet to go. "I get two desserts tonight.
    --==**==--
    It took more than two hours. It would've taken longer, but they caught an assistant manager at the craft center who was so excited at the prospect of being even a peripheral part of a murder investigation she would have given them every scrap of data at her fingertips.
    The second gym was cleaner, more crowded, and a great deal less pungent. But the manager insisted on speaking with the owner, who refused any cooperation until he, himself, could come in to deal with the situation.
    He was a hard-bodied six three, a light-skinned Asian with a skullcap of salt-and-pepper hair. He offered Eve a hand and took hers in the careful way of a big man who was aware of his size and strength.
    "I've heard about these murders. It's a terrible thing." "Yes, sir, it is." "Why don't we sit down?" His office wasn't any larger than Jim's, but it looked to have been cleaned and outfitted not only within the last quarter century, but perhaps within the last week.
    "I understand you want a list of our members." "That's right. Our investigation indicates the killer may use facilities such as this." "I don't like to think I'm acquainted with, or doing business with, anyone who could do something like this. It's not that I don't want to cooperate, Lieutenant, but it seems I should consult with my lawyer first. Membership lists are confidential." "You're free to do so, Mr Ling. We'll get a warrant. It'll take some time, but we'll get one." "And the time it takes may give him the opportunity to kill another woman. I hear the subtext, loud and clear. I'm going to give you the list, but I'm going to ask if you need anything else, to come directly to me, rather than my manager. I'll give you my private number. Men gossip, Lieutenant, the same as anybody. I don't want our members put off by the idea they may be pumping iron or showering off next to a homicidal maniac." "That's no problem." She waited a moment while he ordered his computer to access the membership list and copy to disc.
    "You don't cater to women?" "Female members are welcome," he said with a hint of a smile. "Otherwise I'd be in violation of federal and state statutes regarding discrimination. But oddly enough, you'll see we have no women on our membership list currently." "Surprise, surprise."
    We'll let Feeney run with this awhile and grab a couple hours" sleep," Eve said when she and Peabody walked back toward Homicide. "We're going to need follow-ups with Morris and Mira, and if there's no report from the lab by fifteen hundred, we need to kick Dickhead." "Want me to set them up?" "No, I'll . . ." She stopped when she saw the big man rise from a bench outside her division. "Yeah, go ahead. Then take the two hours of personal." Eve hung back until Peabody moved off into the bull pen, then, dipping her hands in her pockets, walked forward.
    "Hey, Crack." "Dallas. Good thing you came along when you did. Cops, they get nervous when a big, beautiful black man hangs around." Big he was. Black he was. But beautiful, not even close.
    He had a face even a besotted mother would have a hard time loving and that was before the tattoos. He wore a skintight silver T-shirt under a long black leather vest. Snug black pants followed the acreage of his legs. Thick-soled black boots added another inch to his already impressive height.
    He owned a sex club called the Down and Dirty where the drinks were next to lethal, the music was hot, and many of the patrons had spent as much time in a cage as out of one.
    They called him Crack as he claimed that was the sound he made when he knocked people's heads together. And that summer, Eve had held him while he'd wept like a baby beside the body of his murdered sister.
    "You just here to scare cops?" she asked.
    "Nothing scares you, white girl. You got a minute? Maybe some place without so many ears." "Sure." She led the way