Creation In Death

5

SHE HATED MEDIA CONFERENCES, BUT NEARLY always hated the media liaison more. It was suggested, by same, that Eve might prep for fifteen minutes with the media coach, and make use of the provided enhancements in order to present a more pleasant image on screen.

“Murder isn’t pleasant,” Eve snapped back as she strode toward the main doors of Cop Central.

“No, of course not.” The liaison jogged to keep up. “But we’re going to avoid words like murder. The prepared statement-”

“Isn’t going to be tasty when I stuff it down your throat. I’m not your mouthpiece, and this isn’t a political spin.”

“No, but there are ways to be informative and tactful.”

“Tact’s just bullshit with spit polish over it.”

Eve pushed through the doors. Tibble had opted for the steps of Central not only to show the sturdy symbol of the building, but, Eve guessed, to insure the briefing would remain short.

The March wind wasn’t being tactful.

She stepped up to the podium, and waited for the noise level to drop off. She picked Nadine out immediately. The bright red coat stood out like a beacon.

“I have a statement, then I’ll take a few brief questions. The body of a twenty-eight-year-old woman identified as Sarifina York was found early this morning in East River Park. It has been determined that Ms. York was most likely abducted last Monday evening, held against her will for several days. The method in which she was murdered and the evidence gathered so far indicates Ms. York was killed by the same individual who took the lives of four women in a fifteen-day period in this city, nine years ago.”

That caused an eruption, and she ignored it. She stood still and silent while questions and demands were hurled out. Stood still and silent until they ceased.

“The NYPSD has authorized and formed a task force. Its soul purpose will be to investigate this crime, and to apprehend and incarcerate the perpetrator. We will use every resource, every man-hour, and all the experience at our disposal to do so. Questions.”

They flew like missiles. But the fact that there were so many allowed her to cherry pick.

“How was she killed?” Eve repeated. “Ms. York was tortured over a period of days, and died as a result of blood loss. No, we do not have any suspects at this time, and yes, we are, and will continue to follow any and all leads.”

She fielded a few more, grateful her time was nearly up. She noted Nadine tossed out no questions, and had in fact moved out of the pack to talk on her ’link.

“You said she was tortured,” someone called out. “Can you give us details?”

“I neither can nor will. Those details are confidential to this investigation. If they weren’t, I wouldn’t give them to you so you could broadcast her suffering and cause yet more pain for her family and friends. Her life was taken. And that’s more than enough for outrage.”

She stepped back, turned, and walked through the doors of Central.

I t would take Nadine a few minutes to get up to Homicide and charm her way through any potential roadblocks to Eve’s office.

Besides, Eve thought, she could wait. Just wait.

First, Eve needed to speak to Roarke.

She caught the scent as soon as she stepped into the conference room, and much preferred it to the olfactory bombardment at Scentual.

Somebody, she thought, brought in gyros.

She made her way over to Roarke’s workstation, noted he’d gone for the cold-cut sub. He paused in his work long enough to pick up half the sub, hand it to her. “Eat something.”

She peered between the slabs of roll. “What is it?”

“No substance in nature, I can promise you. That’s why I said eat something.”

More to please him than out of appetite, she took a bite. “I need to talk to you.”

“If you’re after some answers on this chore you gave me, you won’t get any as yet. There are, literally, countless homes, private residences, warehouses, and other potential structures in New York, the boroughs, into New Jersey, that have been owned by the same person or persons or organization for the last decade.”

“How are you handling it?”

“Dividing into sections-quadrants, you could say. Subdividing by types of structure, then by types of ownership. It’s bloody tedious work.”

“You asked for it.”

“So I did.” Watching her, he picked up a bottle of water, drank.

“There’s something else. The lab’s identified the soap and shampoo used to wash down the vic.”

“Quick work.”

“Yeah, Dickhead’s got his teeth in it. He worked the case before.”

“Ah.”

“He uses extremely high-end products. Very exclusive. Only one outlet in New York, two locations. It’s yours.”

“Mine?” He sat back, eyes cold and hard on her face. “And so was the sheet he used.”

“That’s right.” Now, simply because it was there and so was she, Eve took another bite of mystery-meat sub. “Someone less cynical might think coincidence, particularly since you manufacture or own big, fat chunks of everything.”

“But you and I aren’t less cynical.”

“No, and so I tagged Feeney and put you into the Missing Persons search he was ru

“Who is she?”

“Gia Rossi.” She picked up his water, took a gulp. “She’s a trainer and instructor at BodyWorks. Do you know her?”

“No.” He pressed his fingers to his eyes a moment, then dropped them. “No, I don’t believe so. Were there any of these co

“No, not that I know of, and I started a check on the way back. He changed the products with this one. If you’re part of the reason, we need to figure out why. A competitor maybe, a former employee. We need to work that angle.”

“When did he take the second one?”

“She was reported missing yesterday. I don’t have the details yet-Feeney’s on it. I’ve got to go pull another chain now, but we’re going to dig into this. I know this is a kick in the ass, but it’s also a mistake. His mistake. There was nothing co

“Yes. Now there is.”

“I’m sorry, I have to go do this.”

“Go on. I’ll stick with this for now.”

She didn’t kiss him, though part of her wanted to, just to give comfort. Instead she laid her hand over his, squeezed gently. Then left him.

She started back toward her office and crossed paths with Baxter. “Got nothing,” he told her. “Reinterviewed the sister, went to the club, talked to the vic’s neighbors. Big zero.”

“Ex?”

“Out of town for the weekend. Neighbor said he went snowboarding out in Colorado.”

“Why would anybody deliberately jump and flop around in the snow, on a mountain?” she wondered.

“Beats me. I like summer sports, where the women are very, very scantily clad. Snow and ice? No skin.”

“You’re such a pig, Baxter.”

“And proud of it. Do you want me to run down the ex? The neighbor thought he knew where the guy was staying. He’ll be back tomorrow night.”

“We’ll hit him once he gets back. Check with Jenkinson. See how far he and Powell have gotten going down the list of people interviewed in the other cases. You and Trueheart can help them run through it. Media’s out with this now, which means by tomorrow we’ll be buried in looney leads. We’ll have to follow up on them, so let’s clear this first plate today.”

Nadine was waiting, sitting in the visitor’s chair, legs crossed, examining her nails as she talked on her headset.

“You have to reschedule or cancel,” she said. “No. No. We agreed in writing when I took this that if and when I had something hot, something I felt it was necessary to pursue personally, it would take precedence over everything else. That was the deal.”

She looked over at Eve, rolled her clever green eyes. “That’s what assistants are for, and assistants to assistants. And as far as the piece, the reporter can reschedule. I know. I’m a goddamn reporter.”