Indulgence in Death (35 page)

“Bring it in. Amusement park’s image isn’t pristine, but we ought to be able to give you a solid probability.”

“Heading in now. I’m going to need you and that match later today. I need ammo, and plenty of it, to talk my way into search warrants.”

“We’ll take our best shot. What time later?”

“I’ll let you know as soon as I do.”

She clicked off. “Book us a conference room.”

“For when?”

“For starting now until I’m damn well finished with it. I need more room to spread this out. I need a bigger board while you’re at it and a second comp, and I need Baxter and Trueheart.”

“I need a million dollars and a smaller ass. I was just throwing that in the pot.” Peabody shrugged off Eve’s snarl, and got to work.

A block from Central her communicator signaled. She used her wrist unit to answer.

“No fucking way.”

“On what matter?” Eve demanded.

“Acknowledged. Goddamn it,” she said as soon as she cut off the transmission. “Tag one of those guys now.” Eve cut west, cursing all the way, then headed back uptown.

“Reineke,” Peabody told her, on dash ’link.

“This better be damn good,” Eve warned him.

“We think it’s one of yours, Lieutenant. It looked like a suicide first glance, then when we got here, took a better look, it smelled of homicide. We ran the vic. Adrianne Jonas. She was what they call a facilitator for the rich. They want it, she finds a way to get it. She’s number one, get it?”

Yeah, she thought as her stomach sank. She got it. “Keep going.”

“She’s hanging from a tree right off the track here, by a freaking bullwhip. You don’t see bullwhips every day, and you don’t usually see some skirt in a party dress hanging by one. We figured it fit your vic profile pretty much down the line. Public place, vic considered the tops, screwy weapon.”

“Keep the scene secure.” She swung toward the curb, ignored the blare of horns. “Get the recording to Feeney, get the rest set up. Get what you can started. Run the list, Peabody. Work it. I’ll take this with the detectives on scene.”

“Dallas, how the hell did he do it? How’d he—”

“Just work it. Out. Out, now.”

Peabody had barely slammed the door before Eve hit the sirens, swung out, and headed uptown running hot.

 

 

S
he imagined Adrianne Jonas had been a beauty, but hanging victims just didn’t stay pretty. The whip had bloodied her throat, and she’d had time to claw at the constriction before she’d been yanked off her feet.

She’d lost her shoes, probably from her body jerking, twisting, legs kicking. They lay sparkling in the grass.

“Couple early joggers spotted her, called it in.” Reineke wiggled his thumb toward a pair of women huddled together talking to Jenkinson. “They said some woman hanged herself, and were pretty hysterical. Hard to blame. Uniforms got here, took a gander, and sent out for Homicide to take our sweep. Once we ID’d the vic, got the skinny on her, got a good look at what she’s hanging by, we figured, well, fuck us sideways, this is Dallas’s.”

“Yeah, you figured right. TOD’s going to be early this morning. Not last night. Last night was Moriarity’s round. Dudley just hit his early.”

“You’re on it. About three A.M. We went ahead and established TOD. You wanna talk to the wits? I can tell you we’ve gone round with them. They jog here three times a week, together for safety. They’re both clean. Live in the same building over on Hundred and Fifth.”

“No, if you’ve got their information, spring them. Give me five here, Detective.”

“You got it, LT.”

She pressed her fingers to her eyes a moment, ordered herself to clear everything else out of her head. Work it, she ordered herself just as she’d ordered Peabody.

Lured her here, she thought. Hired her, false ID to keep his name out of her books. Facilitator. That sort would be used to going to odd places at odd times. Catering to the rich and eccentric. He’d be here first, waiting. She probably knows him, yeah, probably he’s used her before. His sort would. She’d be surprised to see him, wouldn’t she? Not expecting him, but not worried.

She circled the body. No tears in the clothing, she noted. One lash of the whip then, he’d practiced. One lash wraps it around her throat. Painful, shocking, strangling.

Frowning, Eve crouched, studying the ground.

She fell . . . maybe hands and knees. Eve detected what looked like faint grass stains on the heels of the victim’s hands, on the knees just below the skirt of her suit.

“But he’s got to get the whip over the limb. It’s not high. It doesn’t have to be. She’s what, five three in her bare feet?”

“Five two and a half on her ID. Sorry, Lieutenant.” Jenkinson shrugged when she turned to frown at him. “I thought you were talking to me.”

“Just thinking out loud. He’s got to hoist her up. He’s in good shape, and he’s tall enough to manage it. But that takes some solid muscle. Or some chemical help,” she considered.

Zeus made gods out of men—or at least gave them the adrenaline rush to think so.

“He’s a user. A couple tokes to get his juices up. Maybe he brought a collapsible ladder. Hell, maybe he told her to bring one. Drag her up while she’s choking, kicking, clawing. Secure the butt end of the whip, wait until she stops kicking. Wouldn’t take long, then go home and tell your pal it’s a tie.”

“We got word there was another one last night.”

“Yeah, they’re all revved up.”

“Me and Reineke want in, Dallas. These fuckers need some ass-kicking.”

“You’re in. Get her to Morris. Have crime scene go over this area like it was sprinkled with diamonds. Let me have her address. Where’s her purse?”

“There wasn’t one. Might be some mope came by and snatched it. People will do any damn thing.”

“And leave those shoes? I bet you could sell them for a grand easy. He took her bag. She’d have a bag. For face stuff, credit, ’link. Probably had some sort of repel spray, panic button, too. He took the bag, like his pal took the wine. Sloppy, getting sloppy,” she murmured. “Cocky bastards.”

“She’s got a place on Central Park West. Didn’t have to come far to die. You want one of us with you?”

“No.” She took the address. “Finish up here. Dot every ‘i.’ And write it up. Work with Peabody on this. Sylvester Moriarity is going to have some past connection to her. You need to find it. Peabody will bring you up to date. If you’ve got anything else hot, pass it to another detective. This is priority.”

“No problem.”

She stood another moment, looking at the no longer pretty Adrianne Jonas, then turned her back and walked away.

Walking across the park, she pulled out her ’link. She just needed to talk to him for a minute, she told herself. Thirty seconds. Maybe she just needed to see his face.

God. She needed something.

“Hello, Lieutenant.” Caro, Roarke’s admin, smiled out of the screen. “If you’d just hold one moment, I’ll put him on.”

“He’s into something.” Or he’d have answered himself. “It’s not important. I’ll get back to him later.”

“I’m under orders to put you through anytime you call today. I . . . Are you all right?”

Jesus, did it show? “Yeah.”

“Hold on,” Caro said.

Stupid, Eve berated herself. Stupid to have interrupted him. Stupid to have needed to. What she needed to do was the job—but if she broke transmission, he’d tag her right back. Then she’d feel stupider.

“Eve? What’s wrong?”

“I shouldn’t’ve . . . doesn’t matter because I did. They got another one.”

“Today?”

“Three this morning, Central Park. I just . . . God. He hung her in the park. Used a bullwhip. And I just . . .”

“Where are you now?”

“I’m leaving the park, going over to the vic’s place. I have to check it out, find out how she was booked. I have to work it.”

“Give me the address. I’ll meet you there.”

She felt her throat burn and realized emotion was shoving against the resolve that held the anger underneath. “That’s not why I got you out of some meeting. I’m sorry about that.”

“If you don’t give me the address, I’ll just get it by other means, which you won’t like. Let’s avoid the fight over something unimportant when we’re both tired and frustrated.”

“Look, I’ve got my work, you’ve got yours. I’m sorry I—”

“Last chance to avoid the fight. You’re a little more beaten up than I am, so I’ll win.”

She cursed, but she gave him the address. “I’ll clear you with building security.”

“Now, that’s just insulting. I’ll be there shortly.”

So he’d be Peabody again, she thought as she got into her vehicle. What the hell. She could use all the eyes, ears, hands, and brains she could muster.

THE DOORMAN TOOK ONE LOOK AT EVE’S VEHICLE and, wincing, left his post to stride over. He plastered a smile on his face, she had to give him that.

“Something I can do for you, miss?”

She held up her badge as she got out of the car. “Couple of things. First, make sure my ride stays where I put it. Second, clear me up to Adrianne Jonas’s place. Third—”

“I’ll have to check with Ms. Jonas before I clear you. Ah—” He took another look at her badge. “Lieutenant.”

“Good luck with that. She’s on her way to the morgue.”

“Oh, come on!” The sincere shock and distress made her wish she’d been slightly more tactful. “Ms. Jonas’s dead? What happened to her?”

“You knew her pretty well?”

“Nicest lady you’d ever want to meet. Always had a word, always had a smile. Did she have an accident?”

“No, somebody made her dead on purpose.”

“Oh, come on!” he repeated. “You mean somebody killed her? Why would anybody want to kill a nice lady like that?”

“I’d like to find that out. You need to clear me.” As he had with her badge, she took another look at his nameplate. “Louis. I have a consultant on the way. You’ll need to clear him when he gets here.”

“I gotta take a minute.”

He removed his spiffy, silver-trimmed red hat, lowered his head, closed his eyes. The simplicity threw Eve off, had her slipping her hands in her pockets and giving him his moment of silence.

He let out a breath, replaced his hat. Squared it, and his shoulders. “I need to log your badge in.” He moved to the door, opened it into a quiet and pristine lobby area. “And I’ll need the name of the consultant.”

Eve pulled out her badge again. “Roarke.”

The doorman’s head snapped up. “Oh.” He gave her badge yet another, closer look. “I didn’t realize. Sorry for holding you up, Lieutenant Dallas.”

“No problem.” So Roarke owned the building. Big surprise.

“You just take Elevator Two right up to fifty-one, then . . . God, I’m not thinking straight.” He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, shook his head. “Ms. Wallace is already up there. She got in about a half hour ago.”

“Ms. Wallace?”

“Ms. Jonas’s assistant, and Maribelle—that’s the housekeeper—she left a little before that to do some morning errands. Should I tell Ms. Wallace you’re coming up?”

“No. Does anyone else work for her, or live in the unit?”

“There’s Katie. I guess she’s what you’d call a gofer, but she’s not here yet today. Maribelle has her own apartment next to Ms. Jonas’s.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

“She’s fifty-one hundred, Lieutenant,” he said as she crossed to the elevator. “I don’t mean to tell you your job or anything, but if you could maybe gentle it up some with Ms. Wallace? It’s going to knock her back pretty hard.”

Eve nodded, stepped into the elevator. Murder was supposed to knock you back, she thought. She keyed the names the doorman had given her into her notes as the elevator rode silently, smoothly up fifty-one floors.

As she pressed the buzzer beside the wide double doors of 5100, she wondered what constituted “gentling it up.”

The woman who answered had about five pounds of madly curling black hair and skin the color of Peabody’s coffee regular. Her eyes, a spring leaf green, held Eve’s for a long beat. Long enough Eve understood she didn’t have to worry about the gentle.

“I know you.” The smoky voice was breathless. “I know who you are. It’s Adrianne. Something’s happened.” Her lips trembled, her hand squeezed the edge of the door. “Please say it very fast.”

“I have to inform you Adrianne Jonas is dead. I’m sorry for your loss.”

She swayed, but even as Eve braced to catch her, she toughened up. Tears sheened those soft green eyes, but didn’t fall. “Someone killed Adrianne.”

“Yes.”

“Someone killed Adrianne,” she repeated. “She wasn’t here when I got here. She’s not answering her ’link, and she always answers her ’link. Someone killed Adrianne.”

Just because the woman wasn’t going to faint or scream or rush into hysterics didn’t mean she wasn’t in shock. Gentle, Eve supposed, had different levels.

“I’d like to come in. Why don’t we go inside and sit down?”

“Yes, I need to sit down. Yes, come in.”

The entrance foyer led to another set of doors, open now, that connected to a large, high-ceilinged living space with a wide ribbon of windows. Seating had been cleverly built in beneath the windows, with more glass doors worked in between.

The woman chose a scroll-armed chair, lowered into it slowly. “When?”

“Early this morning. She was found in Central Park, near the Great Hill. Do you know why she would have been there?”