In Death 19 - Visions in Death

then." "I will. I'm sorry, I've completely forgotten who you are." "Dallas. Lieutenant Dallas. Detective Peabody." "Right. Right. I admired your dress when you came to the door. It seems like years ago already." She got up, rubbing at her face as she studied Eve. "You seem familiar to me. I can't figure out if it's because it seems you've been here for years, or if you are." "I think we met before, at some charity dinner or something." "At a charity dinner? Oh, well, of course. Roarke. You're Roarke's wife. Roarke's cop, people call you. I don't have all my wits." "No problem. I'm sorry to meet you again under these circumstances." Her gaze sharpened now, and the warrior gleam still lit her face. "When people talk about Roarke's cop over their cocktails and canapes, they say she's a little scary, a little mean, and very relentless. Would that be a fair description?" "Close enough." "Good. Good." Deann held out her hand, took Eve's firmly.
    "Because you're my cop now, too."
    She's got a tough road over the next few days," Peabody commented as they rode down to the lobby. "She strikes me as the kind who'll handle it when she gets her balance." "She's got spine," Eve agreed. "We'll look at the ex-husband.
    Could be he decided to come up to New York. Talk to the vic's parents, other friends. Get a clearer picture of her routine from the Vanderleas." "It wasn't a chance kill. The mutilation takes it out of the box for me. The setup, the pose. If it wasn't personal, a one-on-one sort of thing, it was planned, at least." "Agreed." They crossed the lobby, and headed out to the waiting black-and-white. "Maplewood walked the dog at night. A routine, a pattern. Killer notices her, notices the pattern, and lies in wait. Tells me he knew the dog wouldn't go for him, or had a way to incapacitate the dog." "Have you ever seen one of those little poodles?" Peabody held her hands together to form a little cup.
    "Still got teeth, right?" She stood just outside the car, scanning the neighborhood.
    Well lit. Security droids would patrol regularly. Doormen on duty 24/7. There would have been some vehicular traffic that time of night, during the attack.
    "She walked the dog into the park. Just the verges, probably, but she went inside. Felt safe. She lives here, knows the area. Probably stayed close to the street, but not close enough.
    He'd have to be fast. Have to be waiting, almost certainly." She left the sidewalk herself, picturing it. "Let the dog sniff around the trees, do the dog thing. It's a nice night.
    She'd relax, enjoy it. She and Vanderlea might've been pals, but she still worked in there, and hard. You could see by her hands. She'd enjoy a little time out here with the dog, just walking, just hanging." She played her light over the grass, toward the grab spot that was surrounded by barricades. "He waited until she was out of sight of the street. Just far enough. Killed the dog or the dog ran off." "Killed the dog?" Peabody's immediate distress had Eve shaking her head.
    "A guy beats, rapes, strangles, and mutilates a woman, I don't think he's going to see offing a dog as crossing any lines." "Jeez." Eve headed back toward the car. She could go home, change. Home was closer than Central. It would save her the indignity of walking through Central in her current attire. A point that couldn't be overvalued.
    "The black-and-white can take us to my place. We can put together what we've got, catch a couple hours" sleep and start fresh in the morning." "I hear that. I also hear the unspoken. You don't want to go to Central in your party dress." "Shut up, Peabody."
    It was after five a.m. when Eve crept into the bedroom. She stripped off as she crossed to the bed, letting clothes lay where they fell, then crawled naked into bed.
    She hadn't made a sound, had barely shifted the mattress, but Roarke's arm circled her waist, and drew her back against him.
    "Didn't mean to wake you up. I'm going to catch a couple hours. Peabody's bunked in her favorite guest room." "Turn it off, then." His lips brushed her hair. "Just sleep." "Two hours," she murmured. And turned it off.
    Her next, not quite coherent thought was: Coffee.
    She could smell it. The seductive scent climbed into her sleeping brain like a lover up a flower-strewn trellis. Then she blinked her eyes open, and saw Roarke.
    He was invariably up before her, and as usual was already dressed in one of his master-of-the-world suits. But instead of being in the sitting area of the