J Robb - Imitation in Death

The rage, that tiny hint of emotion, was iced over again. “LieutenantDallas, my husband is an important man. Within a year, he will be named the new British Ambassador toSpain. It’s been promised to us. You will not besmirch his reputation or mine with your horrendous and ugly fantasies.”

“Go down with him then. It’s a nice bonus for me.”Eve rose, paused. “Eventually, he’d have done you, and your daughter. He wouldn’t have been able to stop himself. You’re not going toSpain,Pam, but wherever you end up, you’re going to have plenty of time to think about the fact that I saved your worthless life.”

She walked over, gave the steel-reinforced panel two hard thuds. “On the door,” she called, and walked away.

She was heading back to her office when she heard herself being hailed.Eve kept walking, and letPeabody catch up.

“Dallas. Sir. Lieutenant!”

“There’s paperwork in your cube. Deal with it. In my office in ten for a briefing. We head out in thirty.”

“Sir, I’ve already been informed about the op. McNab nipped over to meet me when I came out of exam.”

Good,Eve thought. Good for him. But she kept her cop scowl in place. “The fact that Detective Moron bypassed procedure does not negate the necessity for your briefing.”

“He wouldn’t have had to tell me if you had.”

It was the mutter that did it.Eve swung into Homicide. “My office. Now.”

“You put the thumb on Renquist last night.”Peabody trotted behindEve. “I should have been called in for the search. You bypassed procedure.”

Eveshoved her door closed. “Are you questioning my methods or my authority, Officer?”

“Your methods, Lieutenant. Sort of. I mean, jeez. If he’d been home last night, you’d have him, and I’d’ve missed it. As your aide-”

“As my aide you do what you’re told when you’re told. If you’re dissatisfied with this arrangement, put it in writing and file it.”

“You worked the case last night without me. You held an op briefing this morning without me. The exam shouldn’t have taken priority over my involvement in this case.”

“I decide what takes priority. It’s done. If you have any more bitching and complaining to do about this matter, I repeat, do so in writing and file it through the proper channels.”

Peabody’s chin jutted up. “I have no wish to file a complaint, Lieutenant.”

“Your choice. Complete the paperwork on your desk. Meet me in the garage in twenty-five. You’ll be briefed en route.”

– -«»--«»--«»--

It was going to be a long day,Eve imagined, as she walked throughKatieMitchell ’s loft, just as she’d walked through the hologram. And a long night.

Wherever Renquist had tucked himself, he’d done a good job of it.

Your move, she thought, and gulped down more coffee.

She’d thrown a net over every hotel in the sector, but she hadn’t found him. Even while she paced the loft, the search was widening.

She stepped up to the doorway of the office where Roarke and Feeney worked.

“Nothing,” Roarke said, sensing her. “It’s more likely he’s using a private residence. Short-term rental. We’re searching that area.”

She checked her wrist unit once more. There were hours yet, and she couldn’t risk going in and out of the building. She walked back to the kitchen, poked atMitchell ’s AutoChef.

“Restless?” Roarke said from behind her.

“I hate the waiting, doing nothing but going over and over it in my head. Makes me antsy.”

He leaned down to kiss the back of her head. “So does having a spat withPeabody.”

“Why do men always say women have spats? Men don’t have spats. It’s a stupid, weenie word.”

He rubbed her shoulders. Because they were like rock, he made a mental note to schedule a relaxation treatment for her. Whether she liked it or not. “Why don’t you ask her how the exam went?”

“She wants me to know, she’ll tell me.”

He leaned down closer, brushing his lips over her hair, then speaking directly into her ear. “She thinks she tanked it.”

“Shit.”Eve fisted her hands. “Shit, fuck, damn.” She swung to the freezer, sorted through it, and confiscated a quart of Strawberry Fields Frozen Dessert.

She found a spoon, stuck it in, then marched off toward the bedroom.

“There’s my girl,” Roarke murmured.

Peabodysat on the edge of the bed, studying the morning briefing on her PPC. She glanced up whenEve entered, nearly had her sulky look in place when she spotted the quart of ice cream.

“Here.”Eve shoved it into her hand. “Eat this and stop pouting. I need you at a hundred percent.”

“It’s just… I think I fucked up, really bad.”

“I don’t want you to think. You put it out of your mind, all the way. You have to be focused. You can’t afford to miss a move, miss a signal. In a few hours, you’re going to be lying in that bed, in the dark. When he comes in, his whole purpose will be to kill you. He’ll be wearing night-vision goggles. He likes to work in the dark. He’ll see you, but you won’t see him. Until we make the move, you won’t see him. So you can’t fuck that up, or you’re going to get hurt. You get hurt, you’ll really piss me off.”

“I’m sorry about this afternoon.”Peabody shoved in the strawberry ice cream. “I had myself all worked up. I’d kicked my own ass as many times as I could on the way back from the exam. I just needed to kick somebody else’s. And I started thinking, if you’d just called me in I wouldn’t have taken that stupid, goddamn exam.”

“You did take it. And tomorrow you’ll know the results. Now put it aside and do the job.”

“I will.” She held out a spoonful of ice cream toEve.

Taking it,Eve sampled. “Christ. That’s just horrible.”

“I think it’s pretty good.” More cheerful,Peabody took the spoon back and dug in for more. “You’re just spoiled because you get the real thing now. Thanks for not being mad at me anymore.”

“Who says I’m not? If I liked you, I’d have sent somebody out for real ice cream instead of stealing a civilian’s frozen crap.”

Peabodyjust smiled, and licked the spoon.

He’d be getting dressed now,Eve figured, as she looked out through the privacy-screened windows ofMitchell ’s loft. It would be full dark soon. Marsonini had always had a long, leisurely meal, with two glasses of wine, before a kill. Always an upscale restaurant, booking a corner table.

He could spend two, even three hours over it. Savoring the food, sipping the wine. Ending with coffee and dessert. A man who enjoyed the finer things.

Renquist would appreciate that.

Evecould see him now, in her mind’s eye. Buttoning a perfectly white, bespoke shirt. Watching his own fingers in the mirror. It would be a good room, well appointed. He wouldn’t tolerate anything but the best-as Renquist or Marsonini.

A silk tie. Probably a silk tie. He’d like the way it felt in his fingers as he slipped it on, as he finessed the perfect knot.

He would take it off after his victim was subdued and restrained. Carefully hanging every article of clothing to avoid creasing. He wouldn’t want creases any more than bloodstains.

But for now, he’d enjoy the act of dressing well, of good material against his skin, and the anticipation of the food and wine, and what followed it.

She could see him, Renquist, turning himself into Marsonini. Grooming the long red hair that was his pride and his vanity. Would Renquist see Marsonini’s face in the mirror now? She imagined he would. The darker complexion, the less even features, the fuller mouth, the pale, pale eyes that would peer out from behind tinted shades. He would need to see it or the night wouldn’t have the same flavor.