Visions In Death

"E-Man to the rescue," he a

"What seems to be the problem?" "If I knew the problem, I'd have fixed it myself." "Right." He dumped a little silver toolbox on her desk, plopped into her chair. Rubbed his hands together. "Wow.

Chocolate." He widened his grin, wiggled his brows.

"Shit. Go ahead. Consider it payment in advance." "Uptown!" "What?" "Uptown." He bit into the candy. "You know, like… excellent.

Let's have a look. I'll just open it for a standard diagnostic." He gave a series of commands that might as well have been in Venutian to Eve's ears. A lot of codes and symbols and strange little shapes spilled on-screen, and the computer's voice responded in a kind of gasping croak.

"See! See!" Eve sprang to lean over McNab's shoulder.

That's not right, is it? That's not good." "Well, hrnmm. Just let me-" "It's sabotage, isn't it?" "You expecting sabotage?" "You don't expect sabotage. That's why it's sabotage." "There's a point. I need to look around some. Why don't you, ah, take a break maybe." "You want me to leave my own office?" He gave her a pained look. "Lieutenant." "Okay, okay." She stuffed her hands in her pockets. "I'll be in the bull pen." She heard his long, relieved sigh as she strode out.

She marched straight to Peabody's desk.

"Comp woes?" Peabody asked. "McNab stopped by for a second on his way in to you." "They sabotaged it." "Who are they?"

"If I knew who they were, I'd hunt them down and peel the skin off their bones while they begged for mercy." "Uh-huh. Okay, so I got a hold of Dea

Somebody found the puppy." "Huh. The dog?" "Yeah, Mignon. She was nearly on the other side of the park, and a couple joggers found her, checked her collar ID.

They brought her back." "Was it injured?" "No, just scared. Having the pup back will give them a little comfort. Anyway, she and her husband and the vie all used Total Health Fitness and Beauty for workouts and such, by the way. Not the kind of spot we're looking for as regards the killer's habits." "It was good to check." "She doesn't remember seeing anyone suspicious around the neighborhood. Doesn't recall noticing a big guy at any point, but she's going to ask her husband and some of her neighbors. The doorman." "We'll canvass again anyway." "Yeah. Father's out of the picture. Alibied by a couple thousand miles, and he doesn't fit the physical type we're after." "He'd have been too easy. How about my vehicle?" "I've got a line on that. Give me a little time." "Everybody wants time today. Let's do a search on the health clubs. Manhattan-based to start." Eve watched, with some irritation as Peabody's unit responded smoothly to her commands.

"How come the detectives and uniforms in this division have better equipment than I do? I'm the boss." "You know, there's a theory that some people have a kind of mechanical…" The term deficiency sprang to Peabody's mind, but she was too concerned with her own health and safety to speak it. "Like an infection or something. And it affects the machines they operate." "That's bullshit. I don't have any trouble with my home equipment." "Just a theory," Peabody said, and hunched her shoulders.

"Do you have to lurk there while this is ru

She'd get a tube of Pepsi, that's what she'd do. She'd cool off with a drink, then go back and hassle McNab.

She wanted to sit in her own damn office and do her own damn job. Was that too much to ask? She approached a vending machine, then just stood there, staring at it resentfully. It would probably spit the Pepsi all over her, or send her some health drink just for spite.

"Hey, you." She signaled to a passing uniform, then dug out credits.

"Get me a tube of Pepsi." The uniform looked down at the credits Eve dumped in her hand. "Ah, sure, Lieutenant." The credits were plugged in; the machine responded with a cheerful and polite a

"Here you go." "Thanks." Satisfied, Eve drank as she walked back toward the bull pen. That's how she'd handle this deal, she decided. She'd have other people screw with the machines whenever possible. She was rank, after all. She was supposed to delegate.

"Lieutenant?" McNab signaled her, and though she tried not to see it, watched him purse his lips toward Peabody.

"No kissy faces in Homicide, Detective. Is my unit up and ru

"Bad news. You got a dink system here." "It was working fine before." "Yeah, well, see it's got some internal problems. That's the easiest way to explain it. Some of its guts, we'll say, were designed with pla

Replaced some things. It's not going to last more than a few days the way you use it. But I can get my hands on some parts. I've got co

Meanwhile, if you could try not to smack it around, it should hold." "Okay, thanks. I appreciate the quick work." "No prob. I'm a genius. See you tomorrow night, right?" "Tomorrow night?" "Di

She sat, drank Pepsi, and stared at the machine. Dared it to give her trouble. Since Peabody was ru

The machine responded to her search request as if nothing had ever happened between them. It gave her enough confidence to turn her back on it while the search ensued, and study her board.

"Where'd he see you, Elisa?" she asked aloud. "Where did you come into his radar? He saw you, and something about you clicked in that sick mind of his. So he watched you and studied you and laid in wait for you." A domestic. A single parent. Liked to make things with her hands. Divorced. Abusive husband.

She didn't need the file to remember the details on Elisa Maplewood.

Early thirties, slightly less than average height, average build. Light brown hair, long. Pretty face.

Standard education, lower-middle-class upbringing. Native New Yorker.

Liked nice clothes in simple styles. Nothing too trendy, nothing too provocative. No current personal partner or romantic entanglement. Minimal social life.

Where did he see you? The park? Take the kids to the park. Walk the dog. The shops? Buy your craft supplies, window shop.

She grabbed the hard copy of the report McNab had left on her desk. "Link transmissions to her parents, to Dea

Her web activity ran to parenting sites, craft sites, and chat rooms. Downloads of magazines showed crafts again, parenting again, and some home decorating stuff, some online shopping. Downloads of a couple books tagged as current bestsellers.

Nothing popped from the search of the Vanderleas" equipment.

Chat room might be worth checking out, she thought, and made a note of it. But it was tough for her to see this big, muscular guy knitting… whatever people knit. More than that, Elisa struck her as being too sensible, too savvy to give personal information to anyone in a chat room. He hadn't tracked her through her discussions on making blankets or the like.

He's done it before.