Frenzy

Something was wrong. She knew it.

Her heart was ice. Terror had come before knowledge. She was completely awake and hyperalert. Listening. Dreading. Staring wide-eyed into total blackness. Knowing now without doubt what she was hearing.

There was a third sound of someone breathing in the dark.

60

“They didn’t show up for their tai chi exercises in the park,” Renz said. “Then they didn’t answer their cell phones.”

“That was enough to send the super to investigate?” Qui

Renz nodded, his chin sinking into the smooth pink flesh of his neck. “With these two, yes. They took their tai chi seriously. Took everything yuppie and healthy seriously. They might have lived to a hundred and ten.”

A CSU unit was on the way, along with an ME and transport for the bodies. The uniform who’d caught the call was standing outside in the hall, to greet and guide the oncoming rush of specialists that sometimes reached murder crime scenes faster than flies.

Not this time, though, Qui

“I checked his wallet on the dresser, and her purse,” Renz said. “He’s Ben Swift. She’s his wife, Beth.”

Qui

Next to Ben Swift, Mrs. Swift looked horrified. There were minor cuts and cigarette burns all over her body. Her wrists were fastened with thick silver duct tape to her bare thighs. Qui

Both victims had the letters D.O.A. neatly carved into their foreheads. Post mortem, so the carving didn’t leave much of a mess.

Renz pointed to a head wound near Ben Swift’s temple. “Looks like the killer took them both by surprise when they were asleep. Bashed the husband unconscious with a hard, blunt object, then gagged and taped the wife.”

“Then he sliced the husband’s throat, to get him out of the way, and turned all his attention to the wife,” Qui

“It was the woman he wanted,” Renz said.

“Probably.” Qui

He walked into the bathroom. There was blood on the plastic shower curtain and two of the white towels.

“It’ll be his blood,” Renz said.

Qui

“Sounds right,” Renz said. “Fits the pattern, anyway. I wonder if he watches too much television, thinks we might be able to get his fingerprints off the insides of the gloves.”

“You never know about the lab guys,” Qui

There was shuffling around and voices coming from out in the hall. Qui

The first one in was the nasty little ME, Nift. He was followed by gloved up CSU techs and a detective Qui

“Where’s Pearl?” Nift asked, making a show of looking around.

“Not here,” Qui

“Tell her I missed her.”

“You been shooting at her?”

“Pearl and I just joke,” Nift said, seeming to realize suddenly that he didn’t want to get Qui

“The bedroom,” Renz said. “Make sure you don’t touch anything but the bodies.”

“I always work that way,” Nift said. He brooded as if his feelings were hurt, but Qui

Nift hefted his big black leather bag and made his way with short, rapid steps toward the bedroom.

When he was gone, Renz said, “Necrophiliac little prick.”

“Probably,” Qui

61

Mi

She put Nift out of her mind and continued idly watching a DVD of the B-roll for tomorrow’s piece on the D.O.A. murders. She was in her apartment near the studio, reclining on the sofa and sipping a vodka martini. The sun was at the windows on the wall near where the big TV sat, and from time to time, in synchronization with puffy cumulus clouds blowing past, she had to squint to see the screen clearly.

There was an establishment shot of the Far Castle across the street, the colorful umbrellas over the round white metal tables, the castle-like stone and tile building itself, then the low fence and the garden next to it, the precisely trimmed hedge maze. The sunlight seemed to cleanse while it brightened the place; everything looked picturesque and colorful, like a damned souvenir postcard. Fox hunters in red livery might stream across the scene any second, accompanied by frisky yapping hounds. Stonehenge might be nearby, instead of Bank of America.

Manhattan traffic rather than hounds ru

The camera brought the long shot in, so it seemed the viewer was crossing the street, then it moved into the restaurant.

Mi

At first Mi

One of the serving wenches was familiar. Mi

There was no doubt, though, after ru

Mi

Though the name tag pi

Mi

On the other hand, a word going back beyond the Middle Ages came to mind: Bait.