In Death 25 - Creation in Death

moistened her lips as he pulled up a stool and sat so he could speak face-to-face. How could he look so ordinary ? she wondered. How could he look so nice, and be so vicious?
    “You’re very pretty, but she was almost exquisite. And when she sang, she was glorious.”
    “What…what did she sing?”
    “Soprano. She had a multiple voice.”
    “I…I don’t know what that means.”
    “Her brilliance was so bright. She was allegra —those high, clear notes seeming to simply lift out of her. And the color, the texture of lirica with the intensity and depth of the drammatica . Her range…”
    Moisture sheened his eyes as he pressed his fingers to his lips, kissed the tips. “I could, and did, listen to her for hours. She would accompany herself on the piano when at home. She tried to teach me, but…” He smiled wistfully as he held up his hands. “I had no talent for music, only a vast appreciation for it.”
    If he was talking he wasn’t hurting her, Ariel thought. She had to keep him talking. “Is it opera? I don’t know anything about opera.”
    “You think it’s stuffy, boring, old-fashioned.”
    “I think it’s beautiful,” she said carefully. “I’ve just never really listened to it before. She sang opera?” Questions, Ariel thought desperately. Ask questions so he’ll spend time answering. “And—and was a soprano? With, um, multiple voice like—like ranges?”
    “Indeed, yes, indeed, that’s very good. I have many of her recordings. I don’t play them here.” He glanced around the room. “It wouldn’t be appropriate.”
    “I’d love to hear her sing. I’d love to hear her multiple voice.”
    “Would you?” His eyes turned sly. “Aren’t you clever? She was clever, too.” He rose now, picked up the torch.
    “Wait! Wait! Couldn’t I hear her sing? Maybe I’d understand if I could hear her sing? Who was she? Who was—Oh, God, God, please! ” She tried to shrink away from the tip of the flame he traced, almost teasingly, along her arm.
    “We’ll have to chat later. We really must get to work.”
     
    E ve went directly to Feeney when she reached Central. “Female brunettes between the ages of twenty-eight and thirty-three who died on this date in New York. We need names, last known addresses, cause of death.”
    “Records around that time are sketchy,” he told her. “A lot of deaths went unrecorded, a lot of people were unidentified, or misidentified.”
    “Dig. She’s what’s going to open locks on this. I’m going to check with Yancy, see if he’s got any sort of an image on the wallet photo.”
    To give Yancy more time, she went first to Whitney and asked for more men to form a stakeout team at the Met.
    “Done. I need you for a media briefing at noon.”
    “Commander—”
    “If you think I don’t know how pressed and pressured you are, you’re mistaken.” And he looked just as irritated as she did. “Thirty minutes. I’ll cut it off at thirty, but unless you’re on your way to arrest this son of a bitch, I need you there. We have to hold back the flood.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Confirm the new and salient you fed Nadine this morning, and the twenty-four-hour shifts. I want you to express confidence that Ariel Greenfeld will be found alive.”
    “I will, Commander. I believe she will be.”
    “Let them see you do. Dismissed. Oh, Lieutenant, if I learn you’ve stepped foot outside this building without your vest or your wires, I’ll skin you. Personally.”
    “Understood.”
    It was a little annoying to realize he’d sensed she was considering forgetting the vest. She hated the damn thing. But she had to respect a man who knew his subordinates.
    She strode into Yancy’s section and saw him working with Baxter’s peach. He caught Eve’s eye before she wound her way through the stations. He rose, smiled, and said something to the witness before heading Eve off.
    “I think we’re making progress here. She’s got him nailed, but she only got a quick look at the photo. We’re working on it, Dallas. You’ve got to give me more time, more room.”
    “Can you give me him?”
    “Already sent it to your office unit. Subtle differences in the facial structure from Trina’s image, different hair, eyebrows. My eye says same guy.”
    “Your eye’s good enough for me. When you get the woman’s image, send it to me, and to Feeney. Make it work, Yancy. This one could be the money shot.”
    By the time Eve reached her own division, Peabody was