Creation In Death

She had to stand where she was a minute until she was sure she had herself under control. After a few steadying breaths she turned, started to sit at her desk. Someone knocked on the door.

“What?” She wanted to snarl, then did just that when Nadine poked a head in. “Media conference at nine.”

“I know. Are you okay?”

“Peachy. Go away.”

Nadine just sidled in, shut the door at her back. “I came by a little while ago, and…well, let’s say overheard a few choice words in raised voices. The reporter in me fought with the reasonably well-ma

“That was a private conversation.”

“You shouldn’t have private conversations in public facilities at the top of your lungs.”

Point well taken, Eve was forced to admit. “I’m fine. We’re fine. Just something we had to work out.”

“It made me think it might be interesting to do a segment on tension in the workplace, and how cops handle it.”

“You’re going to want to leave this one alone.”

“This particular one, yes. Price of friendship.”

“If that’s all-”

“It’s not. I know you didn’t think much of the Romanian psychic, but-”

“Actually, there may have been a nugget there. Got another?”

“Really? I expect to be fully filled in on that. And, yes, I may just.” In her slim-skirted suit the color of raspberry jam, Nadine managed to ease a hip down on the corner of Eve’s desk.

“Bolivia,” she began. “We’ve been digging through the tabloids. You’d be surprised what nuggets can be found there that you cops disdain.”

“Yeah, those alien babies are a menace to society.”

“A classic for a reason. But we found an interesting story about the Moor of Venice.”

“Last time I checked, Venice was in Italy.”

“No, Othello-Shakespeare? And Verdi. Othello was this black dude, important guy, married to a gorgeous white women-mixed race marriages were not common back then in…whenever the hell it was.”

“Nine years ago?”

“No.” Nadine laughed. “More like centuries. Anyway, Othello ends up being manipulated by this other guy into believing his wife’s been cheating on him. Othello strangles her. And ends up in song and story.”

“I’m not following this, Nadine.”

“Just giving you some background. There was a big costume ball at the opera house in-”

“Opera?”

“Yeah.” Nadine’s eyes narrowed. “That means something.”

“Just keep going.”

“A woman in La Paz claimed she was attacked by a guy dressed like Othello. Black mask, cape, gloves. Claimed he tried to drag her off, tried to rape her. Since she didn’t have a mark on her, and witnesses stated that she was seen chatting amiably with a guy in that costume earlier in the evening, and she was skunk drunk when she started shrieking, her claims were dismissed by the police. But the tabs played it up. She was thirty-one, brunette, and the alleged incident occurred between the discovery of the second and third bodies. Had The Groom tried to claim another bride? Was the Moor of Venice seeking Desdemona? She played it up, too.”

Nadine shifted on the desk. “Or maybe she was giving some of it straight. She claimed he spoke exceptional Spanish, but with an American accent, was knowledgeable about music and literature, and was well-traveled. Now, with a little more research we learned she was a party girl-and that several were peppered through the guests to…entertain.”

“An LC?” Eve pursed her lips thoughtfully. “He hasn’t targeted any pros. Doesn’t fit his profile.”

“The party girls at functions like this don’t advertise. They’re frosting.”

“Okay, so it’s possible he didn’t make her as a pro.”

“Exactly, and you can read between the lines and assume she smelled money and played it up with this guy. He suggested they go out for some air, which they did. Then that they go for a drive-which she couldn’t do or lose her event fee. In any case, she said she started feeling off-dizzy, woozy. She also claimed she hadn’t been drinking, which, of course, she had. But I’m betting she knew her limit when she was working, and they mistook drugged for skunk drunk.”

“Could be.” Eve nodded. “Yeah, that could be.”

“When she realized he was leading her away from the opera house, she resisted. Here’s where I think she embellished or there would have been marks, tears, something. Figure when she started to struggle, to scream, he cut his losses. She tears back to the party. He slides off.”

“You gotta have more than that.”

“Yeah, I do. The third victim was a waitress, worked for the caterer who did this party. She worked the party. And a week later, she’s dead. So-”

“He cherry-picks potentials at the event,” Eve concluded. “Weeds it down to two. The first doesn’t work out for him. So he goes for the second. Where was she last seen?” Eve turned to boot up the file.

“Leaving her apartment four days before her body was found. She’d been scheduled to work that evening, called in sick. She wasn’t reported missing for two days because-”

“She’s the one who took an overnight bag, clothes. Good clothes.”

“Good memory. Yeah. It was assumed she’d gone off with some guy. Which, I guess she did. First woman said Othello had a voice like silk-soft and smooth. Wore heeled boots and a high headdress-compensating.”

“Short guy, we got that.”

Nadine’s brows lifted. “Oh, do you?”

“You’ll get everything when you get it. Anything else?”

“She said he talked about music-opera particularly-like it was a god. She said a lot of bullshit, actually. His eyes were burning red, his hands like steel as they closed around her throat. Blah, blah. But there was one more interesting thing that sounded true. She said she asked about his work, and he said he studied life and death. In a twisted way, that could be what he’s doing, or thinks he’s doing.”

“Okay. That’s okay.”

“Worth any inside info?”

“I leak anything at this point, it’s my ass. Don’t bother with the media briefing. Send a drone. When I’m clear, you’ll get it all.”

“Off the record. Are you close?”

“Off the record. I’m getting closer.”

S ince the two conversations had eaten away her prep time, Eve just gathered everything up. She’d organize on the fly. Lining it up in her head, she headed out, reminding herself there was now-courtesy of Roarke-decent coffee in the conference room.

She glanced over at raised voices, saw one of her detectives and a couple of uniforms dwarfed by a man about the size of the vending machine they’d gathered in front of.

“I want to see my brother!” the giant shouted. “Now!”

Carmichael, generally unflappable in Eve’s estimation, kept her voice low and soothing. “Now, Billy, we explained that your brother’s giving a statement. As soon as he’s done-”

“You’ve got him in a cage! You’re beating him up!”

“No, Billy. Jerry’s helping us. We’re trying to find the bad man who hurt his boss. Remember how somebody hurt Mr. Kolbecki?”

“They killed him dead. Now you’re going to kill Jerry. Where’s Jerry?”

“Let’s go sit over-”

Billy screamed his brother’s name loudly enough that cops stopped, turned, slipped out of doorways.

Eve changed direction, headed toward the trouble. “Problem here?”

“Lieutenant.” The unflappable Carmichael sent Eve a look of utter frustration. “Billy’s upset. Somebody killed the nice man he and his brother work for. We’re talking to Billy’s brother now. We’re just going to get Billy a nice drink before we talk to him, too. Mr. Kolbecki was your boss, too, right, Billy? You liked Mr. Kolbecki.”

“I sweep the floors and wash the windows. I can have a soda when I’m thirsty.”

“Yeah, Mr. Kolbecki let you have sodas. This is Lieutenant Dallas. She’s my boss. So now I have to do my job, and we’re all going to sit down and-”