In Death 25 - Creation in Death

work in the quiet for a while, with minimal interruption. To think and theorize before she went back to the noise and pressures of the war room.
    She brought up the files on the first investigation.
    She knew these women. Their names, their faces, where they’d come from, where they’d lived, where they’d worked or studied.
    A diverse group, in all but general appearance. And now she would look for one more point of origin.
    Corrine, would-be actress working as a waitress, who’d squeezed in acting, dance, and vocal lessons when she could afford them. He could have played her, yes, he could have in several ways. Come to this location to audition for a part—what hungry young actress wouldn’t bite? Or come to this address on this date and time to help serve at a party. Pick up some extra cash. Possibilities.
    She went down the list of names. A secretary, a grad student working on her master’s in foreign studies, a clerk in a gift shop who dabbled in pottery.
    Following the string, she began to make calls, questioning people she’d interviewed nine years before.
    There was a quick knock, then Peabody stuck her head in. She had a slice of pizza, half eaten, in her hand. “Pizza’s here. They’re pouncing on it like wolves. You’d better get out there if you want any.”
    “Minute.”
    Peabody took another bite. “You got something?”
    “Maybe. Maybe.” Eve wished the scent of pizza wasn’t so damn distracting. “I’ll bring it in. Get whoever’s in the field on a headset. I want to brief everyone at once.”
    “You got it.”
    “Get the vics from the first investigation up on screen, with data.”
    Eve gathered her notes, her discs, then tagged Mira. “I need you in the war room.”
    “Ten minutes.”
    “Sooner,” Eve said and clicked off.
    When Eve strode into the war room, she noted that two pizzas had been demolished along with most of a third. After setting down her notes, she marched over, grabbed a slice.
    “Got Jenkinson, Powell, Newkirk, and Harris on the line,” Peabody told her. “Everyone else is here.”
    “Mira’s on her way. I want her take on this.” Even as Eve bit in, Feeney was coming toward her.
    “You’ve got something. I can see it.”
    “Might. A possible link, possible method. I’m going to lay it out as soon as Mira’s in the room.” She glanced over, then handily caught the tube of Pepsi that Roarke tossed her. “Progress?” she asked him.
    “I have fifty-six most possible, given their vocations or avocations. Still coming.”
    “Okay. Peabody, get the screen up, backed with the disc I brought in.” She nodded when Mira came in. After taking a long sip, Eve put on the headset.
    “Listen up, people. I need your full attention. If you can’t eat pizza and think—”
    “You got pizza?” was Jenkinson’s complaint in her ear.
    “We’re working on a new theory,” Eve said, and began to lay it out.

9
    “ONE OF CORRINE DAGBY’S COWORKERS AT THE time of her death remembers—or more accurately thinks she remembers—the vic mentioning she was up for a part in a play. Off-off Broadway. If she spoke of this to anyone else, family, friends, other students in her classes, they don’t recall.
    “Melissa Congress, second vic, secretarial position. Last seen leaving a club Lower West, well lubricated. This remains, most probably, a grab. A moment of opportunity. She was, however, known to complain with some consistency about her level of employment, her pay, her hours. There remains a possibility that she was approached about interviewing for another position and therefore knew or recognized her abductor.
    “Anise Waters,” Eve continued. “Grad student at Columbia. Fluent in Mandarin Chinese and Russian, and working on a master’s in political science. She sometimes supplemented her income by tutoring, most usually on campus. Last seen leaving the university’s main library. Wits stated that she took a pass on joining a group for drinks, claiming she had work. As she was a serious and dedicated student, it was assumed she was heading home to study. She didn’t mention, to anyone’s recollection, an outside tutoring job. The language discs she checked out from the library were never recovered. The vic did have a scheduled tutoring job, on campus, the next day. It was assumed she’d checked out the discs for that purpose.
    “Last, Joley Weitz. Last seen leaving Arts A Fact, a shop where she was employed, at approximately seventeen hundred.