Visions In Death

CHAPTER 18

In his elegant dark business suit, Roarke circled Eve's new vehicle while it was parked in her slot in Central's garage.

"Haven't had a chance to really examine your upgrade. Long overdue, Lieutenant." "It does the job." "Better, one hopes, than your previous one." He tapped the hood. "Release the hood latch." "Why?" "So I can look at the engine." "Why? It runs. What else is there to know? Looking at it doesn't change anything." He gave her a long, pitying smile. "Darling Eve, your absolute lack of interest and aptitude for mechanics is so female." "Watch it, pal." "Wouldn't you like to know what's under here?" He tapped the hood again. "What's getting you where you're going?" "No." Though he had stirred some mild curiosity. "Besides, I'm getting a later start on this than I'd pla

He engaged the engine and wasn't displeased by the sound.

"You've got more power under you this time, at least." Then he smiled at her. "Sorry I couldn't get here sooner." "It's okay. I kept busy. And Feeney couldn't wiggle loose until about twenty minutes ago, so he and Peabody are getting a late start with this, too." "Then let's catch up." He eased out of the slot, drove at a discreet speed to the entrance. Flicked a glance at the pattern of traffic.

And punched it.

"Jesus, Roarke!" He whipped through, skimming his way around cabs and cars and one-seaters, and nipped through a light a blink before it went to red. "Not bad," he decided.

"If I bung this thing up the first week, I'll never live it down." "Umm-hmm." He went vertical, maintaining it until he'd swung around a corner. "Could be a bit more elastic on the turns, but it handles well enough." "And if Traffic lights you up, I'm not flashing my badge to kill the violation." "Lateral's fairly smooth," he decided after testing it out.

"So, where are we going?" She sighed, long and deep, but at least the question allowed her to relay the first name and address to her map system.

"You want the route displayed on windshield or the dash monitor?" "Dash will do." "On monitor," she ordered and couldn't suppress the smile when it popped on. "I ditched the vocals. It'll only blab at me if I specifically order it to. Too bad people don't come with the same accessory." She rattled off the route.

"How did Celina's session go?" Roarke asked her.

"She handled it. We got a few more details, but it's tough going. Mira won't approve another session without a twenty-four-hour break."

"A slow process." "Yeah, and he's not going to move slow. It's not just women he's after, but women he sees as having control over him." "Symbolically."

"Maybe I pushed him the wrong way, pushed him when I did the interview with Nadine, then the media conference.

He's escalating." "Whether you push or not, he'll continue to kill until you stop him." "Yeah, I'll be doing that. I'll damn well be doing that soon."

Her first stop was named Randall Beam, and he wasn't happy about having a cop at the door.

"Listen, I got a thing. I'm just about out the door already.

What gives?" "If we can come in, Randall, we'll tell you what gives, then maybe you can keep your thing." "Hell. How come a guy has a coupla assaults on his sheet, cops're always yanking him?" "It's a mystery all right." Eve stepped in, sca

There were curtains at the windows, which was a surprise, and a couple of nice-looking pillows tucked into the corners of a sagging couch.

Physically, Beam didn't fit her profile. He was about six feet tall, a solid and muscular one-eighty. But compared to a size fifteen, his feet were almost dainty. His complexion leaned toward jailhouse white, and he sported a long brown ponytail.

Still, she'd need to take the time with him. He might have a friend, a brother, whatever, who fit her needs more closely.

"Need your whereabouts, Randall." She gave him the nights of the three murders, waited while he stood looking put-upon and sad.

"How'm I supposed to know?" "You can't tell me where you were last night?" "Last night? One of them's last night? Last night, after I got off work? I got gainful employment." "Good for you." "So, after work, me and a couple of the guys stopped in at the Roundhouse. Bar on Fourth? Knocked back a few, grabbed some chow, played some pool. LC works the joint.

Name's Loelle? I was flush, so I took her up to one of the privates Roundhouse's got two for a bang. Had a couple more drinks, got home, I du

"I had a thing. Was there till after eleven. Went out with… with some people after for, you know, coffee. Got home, I du

But you know, live and let." "That's a touching philosophy, Randall. Spill." He pulled on his nose, shuffled his feet. "Just that… last assault bust, they say I gotta take anger management and shit. So I stop punching people and starting fights. But I never punched nobody didn't ask for it." Eve supposed the flaw was in her, but she was starting to like him. "I know the feeling." "So they, shit, they say I should do some therapy kind of deal. Occupational, recreational, relaxational. What all. I sign up for this class in ah, crafts." "You do crafts."

"Don't make me no fairy or nothing." He gave Roarke a steely look as if daring him to disagree.

"Did you make the curtains?" Roarke asked, pleasantly.

"Yeah. So?" His fists bunched at his sides.

"It's very good work. A nice use, I'd say, of fabric and color." "Well." He eyed Roarke, eyed the curtains. Then shrugged.

"They come out okay. It's constructive and, you know, therapeutic.

I sorta got into it. I was working on the pillows there at Total Crafts, they got clubs and shit, and instructors. That's where I was the night you're saying. They give you a break on the supplies and shit, and you can use their machines you need to. And it's kinda interesting is all. I got a class tonight, on needlepoint. You can make all kinds of shit, you know what you're doing." "Your instructor and classmates verify this?" "Yeah. But, hey, you go down there asking questions, talking about my sheet, it's go