J Robb - Imitation in Death

“Wasn’t it to you?”

“That was different. It was,” she said with conviction when he raised an eyebrow. “I wasn’t going to blow it. I had more confidence in myself than she does. Had to. I didn’t have anything else.”

She surprised herself by smiling, looking over at him. “Then.”

It didn’t surprise her to feel his hand brush her cheek. “Enough mush. Back to Fortney. He cloudedPeabody ’s thinking. He’s a putz, and just not smart enough for this. Not an organized thinker, and not cold enough. Violent tendencies toward women, but a sock in the eye isn’t mutilation. You gotta be cold to mutilate. And brave, in a screwed-up way. Fortney’s not brave enough to go the whole route. For him, sex is his way of humiliating women. He bought the paper second, and I imagine that gave Renquist a smile-if he was following the purchases.”

“And you believe he was.”

She gazed at the rearview to make sure the team was still behind her. “Dead sure, and he likely did a search on Fortney and knew he’d be inNew York during this period. Takes time to put on a show, months of lead time. Renquist didn’t plan this overnight.”

“Keep going.”

Roarke was keeping her talking, she realized, so she wouldn’t lose her temper and her patience with the traffic. Which was hideous. She toyed briefly with hitting the sirens and punching it. But that violated procedure. She’d do this straight, right down the line.

“He needed time to scope out his targets, so you’ve got several weeks between him sending the paper to Breen and the first murder. The first inNew York,” she amended. “We’re going to find more bodies, or what’s left of them, scattered over the planet, and possibly off.”

“He’ll tell you,” Roarke deduced.

“Oh yeah.” Her face was grim as she threaded through a narrow break between bumpers. “Once we get him in, he’ll tell us. He won’t be able to stop himself. He wants his place in the history books.”

“And you’ll have yours. Care about it or not, Lieutenant,” Roarke said when she scowled. “You’ll have yours.”

“Let’s stick with Renquist. He’s a perfectionist, and he’s had years of practice. In his work, within the image he’s built, he has to be discreet, diplomatic, often subservient. And this goes against the grain, day after day. At heart, he’s an exhibitionist, a man who finds himself above others-even as he’s been hammered down by females all his life. Women are inferior, yet they have power over him, so they have to be punished. He hates us, and killing us is his greatest joy, his finest accomplishment.”

“You were going to be his last.”

She glanced over, saw him watching her. “Yeah, he’d have gotten around to me, later rather than sooner because he’d want to string this out. I saw it in his eyes the first time I met him. Just an instant. Couldn’t stand the son of a bitch. I wanted it to be him.”

She pulled up in front of the Renquist home, and the search team pulled up behind her. “This is going to be fun.”

She waited for Feeney, let the team file in behind. Home security scanned her badge, then the warrant, before shifting to a holding pattern. Within two minutes, the housekeeper, in a long black robe, opened the door.

“I’m sorry,” she began, “there must be some mistake-”

“This warrant authorizes me and my team to enter this residence and conduct a search thereof. I am also authorized to arrest Niles Renquist on multiple counts of suspicion of murder in the first degree, and a count of first-degree assault with intent. IsMr.Renquist on the premises?”

“No, he’s away on business.” She looked more baffled than annoyed. “I’ll need to ask you to wait here while I informMrs.Renquist of these… circumstances.”

Eveheld up the warrants again. “These mean I don’t have to wait. But go right ahead and tell her we’re here. After you direct me toMr.Renquist ’s home office.”

“I’m not… I can hardly take the responsibility for-”

“It’s my responsibility.” She signaled the team behind her to enter. “Split into groups of two. I want a complete and thorough room-by-room. All recorders on. The office?” she said to the housekeeper.

“It’s on the second level, but-”

“You’re going to want to lead the way,Stevens, then step back. You don’t want a part of this.”

Without waiting for the housekeeper,Eve started up the staircase.Stevens came after her in a trot. “If you’d just let me wakeMrs.Renquist and inform her-”

“As soon as you show me his office.”

“It’s the last door, on the right. But it’s secured.”

“You got the code?”

She pokered up then, struggling for dignity as she stood in her nightrobe surrounded by cops. “OnlyMr.Renquist has the code. It’s his personal office, and he handles sensitive material. As an official of the British government-”

“Yeah, yeah, blah blah.”Eve decided she’d been right. This was fun. “My warrant gives me the right to open this door, with or without the code.” She pulled out her master. “I am employing that authorization at this time, and using a police master code to disengage the subject’s security on this door.”

The housekeeper turned and fled up to the third floor.Mrs.Renquist,Eve thought, was about to get a rude awakening.

She used the master, and wasn’t the least surprised to find the police code denied.

“He’s taken extra precautions.” She looked over her shoulder at Roarke. “At this time I find it necessary and expedient to employ alternate methods. If the electronic experts on team are unable to disengage locks, I will utilize the battering ram.”

“Let’s have a look first,” Feeney suggested, andEve deliberately turned her recorder away so that it wouldn’t show Roarke crouching down with burglar tools in his hands.

“Feeney, I’m going to need you to confiscate all security discs. I suspect the subject doctored them, so that he wasn’t scanned when he left the house for the murders and attack.”

“If he did, we’ll find the shadows.” He tracked his gaze toward Roarke and had to bite down on a grin. Magic hands he thought again.

“I want all ‘links and transmission devices as well.” She didn’t look at Roarke, kept her back to him. But her mind was muttering: Hurry up, damn it, hurry up. I can’t stall much longer.

“Lieutenant,” Roarke said a moment later, “I believe the locks are now disengaged.”

“Good.” She turned back. “We’re now entering the private home office of Niles Renquist.” She opened the door, called for lights on full, then took a deep breath. “Let’s get to work.”

The room was meticulously organized, even elegant in its choice of furnishings and decor. The antique desk held modern communication and data equipment, and what she concluded, after a puzzled study, was an old silver inkwell and quill. There was a leather-bound notebook, an electronic calendar, and deeply cushioned chairs in dark, masculine green.

There was a neat black-and-white bath attached with the towels perfectly aligned on the rack.

He would wash up there after the murders, she presumed. She could see him perfectly, cleaning, grooming, watching himself in the long mirrors that shone on the walls.

She turned back, mentally measuring the room, and gestured to what looked to be a closet door.

“There. Five gets you ten his unregistered’s in there.”

She crossed the room, found the door locked. Rather than waste time, she waved to Roarke, then planted her feet at the sound of rushing footsteps.

With a pale peach robe swirling around her,PamelaRenquist rushed into the room. Her face was naked of enhancements, and looked older than it had. Her color was high, her teeth were already peeled back in a snarl.