Imitation in Death

She knew enough about politics and protocol to at least start out playing the game. “I’d like to thank you, for myself and on behalf of the NYPSD for your cooperation. I know you’re extremely busy and appreciate you taking the time to speak with me.”

“I believe strongly in assisting the local authorities, wherever I am. The U.N. is, on an elemental level, the world’s police force. In a way, we’re in the same profession, you and I. How can I help you?”

“A woman namedJacieWooton was murdered the night before last. I’m the primary investigator.”

“Yes, I heard of the killing.” He leaned back, but his eyebrows lowered. “A licensed companion, in theChinatown district.”

“Yes, sir. In the course of my investigation, I’ve had reason to research and trace a certain brand of stationery. You purchased this brand of writing paper six weeks ago inLondon.”

“I was inLondon this summer for a few days, and did, indeed, buy stationery. Several different types, as I recall. Some for personal use, some for gifts. Am I to understand that this purchase makes me a suspect in this woman’s death?”

He was cool, she thought. More intrigued than worried or a

“I see. Lieutenant, can I assume this line of investigation is secure and discreet? Having my name linked, however loosely, with a licensed companion and a murder would generate considerable unwanted media attention on myself, on Delegate Evans.”

“The name won’t be made public.”

“All right. Night before last?”

“Betweenmidnight and three.”

He didn’t reach for his book, but instead steepled his fingers, watchedEve over the tips. “My wife and I attended the theater. A production of Six Weeks byWilliamGantry, a British playwright. AtLincolnCenter. We were in the company of two other couples, left the theater at about eleven, then had a post-theater drink atRenoir ’s. I believe we left there, my wife and I, aroundmidnight. We’d have been home by twelve-thirty. My wife went to bed, and I worked in my home office for perhaps an hour. It might’ve been a little longer. Following habit, I would have watched about thirty minutes of news, then retired for the night.”

“Did you see or speak with anyone after your wife went to bed?”

“I’m afraid I didn’t. I can only tell you that I was home, tending to my work when this murder took place. I’m confused how buying this paper co

“Her killer wrote a note on that stationery.”

“A note.” Now Renquist’s eyebrows lifted. “Well. That was rather arrogant of him, wasn’t it?”

“He’s not really covered for the time of the murder either,”Peabody pointed out as they walked back to the car.

“That’s the problem when somebody buys it at two in the morning. Most of the suspects are going to claim they were home, i

“Do you think he is a stinking liar?”

“It’s early yet.”

– -«»--«»--«»--

She trackedElliotHawthorne down on the eleventh hole of a private club onLong Island. He was a sturdy, tough man, with a shock of white hair fluttering around under a tan cap, matched by the luxurious white mustache that set off his ta

He passed the driver back to his caddy, hopped in a small white cart, then signaled forEve to join him. “Talk fast” was all he said as he sent the cart zipping forward.

She did, giving him the details asPeabody and the caddy followed on foot.

“Dead whore, fancy writing paper.” He gave a little grunt as he stopped the cart. “Used whores from time to time, never kept track of their names.” He jumped out, circled his ball, studied the lay. “Got a young wife, don’t need whores now. Don’t remember the paper. You got a young wife, you buy all sorts of useless shit.London?”

“Yes.”

“August.London,Paris,Milan. I still got my fingers in some business, and she likes to shop. If you say I bought the paper, I bought the paper. So what?”

“It’s tied to the murder. If you could tell me where you were betweenmidnight and three, night before last-”

He let out a bark of laughter, stood from where he’d crouched by the ball and gave her his full attention. “Young lady, I’m more than seventy. I’m fit, but I need my sleep. I play eighteen holes every morning, and before I do, I have a good breakfast, read the paper, and check the stock reports. I’m up every morning at seven. I’m in bed every night by eleven unless my wife drags me out to some shindig. Night before last I was in bed by eleven, and after making love to my wife-a process that doesn’t take as long as it once did-I was asleep. Can’t prove it, of course.”

He brushed her back, turned to the caddy. “Gimme the seven iron,Tony.”

She watched him set, sight, then smack the ball into a pretty arch. It bounced on the green and rolled to within about five feet of the cup.

FromHawthorne ’s wide grin, she assumed it was a good shot.

“I’d like to speak with your wife.”

He shrugged, handed the club back to the caddy. “Go ahead. She’s over at the courts. Got a te

– -«»--«»--«»--

DarlaHawthornewas dancing around on a shaded court in a candy-pink romper with a flippy skirt. She was doing more dancing than actual co

She was so evenly ta

Her hair, which must have hit her waist when unrestrained, was tied back in a ribbon-pink, natch-and scooped through the hole in her little pink visor. It swung happily back and forth as she pranced over the court and missed the bright yellow ball.

When she bent over to retrieve it,Eve was treated to the sight of her heart-shaped butt in tight, high-cut panties under the skirt.

Her instructor, a hunky guy with lots of streaky hair and white teeth, called out direction and encouragement.

At one point, he came over to stand behind her, nuzzling her back against him as he adjusted her swing. She sent him a big, lash-fluttering smile over her shoulder.

“Mrs.Hawthorne?” Before the balls could start flying again,Eve stepped onto the court.

Te

“I’m not here to whack balls.” She held up her badge. “I need a moment withMrs.Hawthorne.”

“Well, you have to take those off, or stand on the sidelines. We have rules.”

“What’s the problem, Hank?”

“There’s a policewoman here,Mrs.H. ”

“Oh.”Darla bit her lip, and patting her heart walked over to the end of the net. “If this is about that speeding ticket, I’m going to pay it. I just-”

“I’m not Traffic. Can I have a minute?”

“Oh, sure. Hank, I could use a break anyway. Getting all sweaty.” She walked, with a lot of swinging hip, to a bench, opened a pink bag and took out a bottle of designer water.

“Could you tell me where you were night before last? Betweenmidnight and three.”

“What?” Beneath the glow on her perfect oval face,Darla paled. “Why?”

“It’s just a routine stop in a matter I’m investigating.”

“Sweetie knows I was home.” Her eyes, mermaid-green, began to swim. “I don’t know why he’d have you investigating me.”

“I’m not investigating you,Mrs.Hawthorne.”