J Robb - Imitation in Death

“I told these boys I’d fix extra. Can’t abide food out of a machine. It’s not natural. DetectiveBaxter, you offer some of that sandwich to this girl. She’s too skinny.”

“I’m fine, really. DetectiveBaxter told me you saw a man leavingMrs.Gregg ’s apartment building on Sunday morning.”

“Did. I didn’t talk to the police before as I went straight on to my grandson’s after church and stayed overnight. Didn’t get back home until this morning. Heard aboutLois on the news yesterday, of course.”

The countless wrinkles in her withered raisin of a face shifted in whatEve took for sorrow.

“I’ve never been so shocked and sad, even when myFred, God rest him, fell under the Number Three train back in2035. She was a good woman, and a good neighbor.”

“Yes, I know she was. What can you tell us about the man you saw?”

“Hardly paid him any attention. My eyes are pretty good yet. Got them fixed up again last March, but I wasn’t paying him much mind.”

Absently, she pulled a pack of nap-wipes out of a cavernous handbag, and passed them toBaxter.

“Thank you,Mrs.Parksy,” he said in a humbled, respectful voice.

“You’re a good boy.” She patted his hand, then turned her attention back toEve. “Where was I? Oh yes. I was just coming out to wait for my grandson. He comes by every Sunday at nine-fifteen, to take me to church. You go to church?”

There was a quick and beady gleam inMrs. Parksy’s eyes, causingEve to hesitate between the truth and a convenient lie.

“Yes, ma’am,” Trueheart spoke up, his face solemn. “I like to go to Mass atSt. Pat’s when I can get into Midtown on Sunday. Otherwise, I go to Our Lady of the Sorrows, downtown.”

“Catholic, are you?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Well, that’s all right.” She patted his hand in turn, as if it wasn’t his fault.

“You saw the man come out fromMrs. Gregg’s building,”Eve prompted.

“Said I did, didn’t I? He came out just a minute after I stepped out my own front door across the street. Had on a gray uniform and carried a black toolbox. Had a blue plastic basket in his other hand, like the kind they have down at the market. Couldn’t see what was in it, ‘cause it was a ways, and I wasn’t staring at the man.”

“What can you tell me about how he looked?”

“Looked like a repairman, is all. White man, or maybe mixed. Hard to tell as the sun was blasting. Don’t know how old. Not as old as me. Thirty, forty, fifty, sixty, that’s all the same when you hit your century mark, and I hit mine seventeen years ago last March. But I’d say thirty or forty as a best guess.”

“Congratulations,Mrs.Parksy,” Trueheart said and she smiled at him.

“You’re a very nice young man. This other, he had a cap on, uniform cap, and sunglasses. Dark ones. Had mine on, myself. Sun was blazing even though it was early. He saw me. Couldn’t see his eyes, of course, but he saw me, as he sent me a big-as-life grin and gave me this little bow. Sassy’s what I call it, and I just sniffed and looked the other way, as I don’t hold with sass. Sorry about that now. Wish I’d watched after him more.”

“Which direction did he go?”

“Oh, he headed east. Spring in his step, like a man pleased with his morning’s work. Bad business, bad business when a man can all but skip out the door and onto the sidewalk when he’s killed a woman.Lois went to the market for me more than once when I was feeling poorly, and she brought me flowers to cheer me up. Always had a minute to chat. I wish I’d known what he’d done when I saw him. My grandson drove up just a minute or two later. He’s always prompt. I’d’ve told him to run that murdering bastard down on the street. As God is my witness, I would’ve.”

She workedMrs.Parksy until she was sure she had everything the woman could give her, then passed her to Trueheart, asking him to escort her to a uniform for transport home.

“Baxter, another minute here.” She dug in her pocket and discovered she’d givenPeabody all her credits earlier. “Got enough on you for a Pepsi?”

“What’s wrong with using your badge number? You over your limit?”

She gave him a disgusted look, with a sulk right on the edges. “I plug in my badge number, the machine will give me grief. The one up by our squad hates me, has a personal vendetta. And they talk to each other,Baxter. Don’t think they don’t communicate.”

He studied her for one long minute. “You need a vacation.”

“I need a friggin’ Pepsi. You want an IOU?”

He walked to the machine, keyed in his badge number, ordered the tube.

GOOD AFTERNOON. YOU HAVE ORDERED ONE EIGHT-OUNCE TUBE OF PEPSI. IT’S ICED! HAVE A SAFE AND PRODUCTIVE DAY, AND DON’T FORGET TO RECYCLE.

He tugged it out of the slot, walked back, and handed it to her. “My treat.”

“Thanks. Listen I know you’ve got backlog. I appreciate you taking the time for the canvass.”

“Just put it in your report. I could use the shine.”

She gave a head nod toward the door, so they’d walk and talk. “Trueheart looks good. He steady enough?”

“Doc cleared him physically. Kid’s healthy as a horse. Shrink gave him thumbs-up, too.”

“I read the evals,Baxter. I’m asking you.”

“Truth is, I think what happened to him-nearly happened-a couple weeks ago shook me more than him. He’s solid,Dallas. He’s gold. Gotta tell you, I never figured on taking on a rookie, or putting on a trainer’s hat, but he’s a gift.”

Baxtershook his head as they caught a glide. “Kid loves the job. Hell, he is the job, like nobody I know except you. He bounces in each shift, raring. I tell you, he makes my fucking day.”

Satisfied,Eve headed down the hall with him.

“Speaking of trainees,”Baxter continued, “I hear Peabody’s going to take the detectives’ exam in a few days.”

“Nothing wrong with your hearing.”

“Nervous, Mom?”

She shot him a narrow look. “Funny. Why should I be nervous?”

He started to grin, then they both turned at the high-pitched howl. A skinny guy in restraints broke away from the uniform escorting him, sent another to his knees with a well-placed groin kick, then came flying toward the glide, eyes wild, spittle flying.

Since her Pepsi was in her weapon hand, Eve winged it. It caught him between the eyes with an audible thud. It surprised more than hurt him, so that he stumbled, righted himself, then lowered his head and charged her like a battering ram.

She had just enough time to pivot. She brought her knee up sharply, connecting with his chin. There was a nasty crunching sound that she figured was either his jaw snapping or the cartilage in her knee shifting.

In either case, he went down hard on his ass, and was immediately tackled by two uniforms and one passing plainclothes cop.

Baxter reholstered his weapon, scratched his head at the melee on the floor. “Want another Pepsi, Dallas?” What was left of hers was making a brown puddle on the floor.

“Goddamn it. Who’s in charge of this asshole?”

“Me, sir.” One of the uniforms staggered up. He was winded, and bleeding from the bottom lip. “I was taking him to holding for-”

“Officer, why didn’t you have control of your prisoner?”

“I thought he was controlled, Lieutenant. He-”

“Obviously, you thought incorrectly. It appears you need to refresh yourself on proper procedure.”

The prisoner bucked and kicked, and began to scream like a woman. To demonstrate proper procedure for controlling prisoners, Eve crouched, ignoring the twinge in her knee. She grabbed the screamer by a hank of his long, dark hair, jerked his head until his crazed eyes met hers.

“Shut up. If you don’t shut up, if you don’t cease resisting immediately, I will pull your tongue out of your mouth, drag it around your neck, and strangle you with it.”