Imitation in Death (19 page)

"Take me through the places she'd go, the routes she'd taker Daily business sort of thing. I'm looking for repetition and habit, the kind of thing someone who was tracking her could use to determine she'd have been alone in the apartment Sunday morning."

"Okay. Leah began to outline Lois's basic routines as Eve took notes.

It was a simple life, if an active one. Fitness classes three times a week, bi-weekly sessions at a salon, market on Fridays, Thursday evenings out with friends for a meal and a vid or play, volunteer work Monday afternoons at a local day-care center, her part-time job. at a lady's boutique on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays.

"She dated once in a while," Leah added. "But not so much recently, and nothing serious. As I said, Sam was it for her. If she'd been seeing anyone, even very casually, I'd have known about it."

"Customers in the shop? Men?"

"Sure, she'd tell-us about some of the guys who'd come in and throw themselves on her mercy, looking for something for a spouse or girlfriend. Nothing lately, not that, she mentioned. Wait." Her back went steel straight. "Wait. I-remember her saying something about a man she ran into when she was shopping for produce. A couple of weeks ago. Said he looked sort of lost over the tomatoes or something."

As if to nudge the memory clear, Leah rubbed her temples. "She helped him pick out some vegetables and fruit, that was just like her. She said he was a single father, just moved to New York with his little boy. He was -worried about finding good day care, so she told him about Kid Time, that's the place she volunteers, gave him all the information. Being Lois, she pumped him for personal information. She said he was a good-looking guy, concerned father, looked lonely, and she was hoping he checked out Kid Time so she could maybe fix him up with a woman: she knew who worked there. God, what did she say his name was? Ed, Earl, no, no, Al. That's it."

"Al," Eve repeated and felt it hit her gut.

"She said he walked her part of the way home,. carried her bags. Said they talked kids for a few blocks. I didn't pay much attention, it was the kind of thing she did all the time. And knowing Lois, if they talked kids, she talked about hers, about us. She probably said how we got together Sunday afternoons, and how she looked forward- to-it. About how she knew what it was like to raise kids alone."

"Did she tell you what he looked like?"

"She-just said he was a good-looking boy. That doesn't mean anything. Damn it! She'd call any guy under forty a boy, so that's no help."

Yes, it was, Eve thought. It eliminated Elliot Hawthorne, as her own instincts already had.

"She was a born mother, so if she saw this guy puzzling over tomatoes, she'd have automatically stepped up to give him a hand.and talk to him, try to help him out with his problems. Southern," Leah said on a rise of excitement. "That's what she said. A good-looking Southern boy."

"She was a jewel. You know what I'm saying?"

Rico Vincenti, proprietor of the family-run market where Lois Gregg did her weekly shopping, unashamedly wiped his tears with a red bandanna, then stuffed it away in the back pocket: of khakis that bagged over his skinny butt. He went back to. stacking a fresh supply of peaches in his sidewalk bin.

"That's what I'm hearing," Eve said. "She came in here regularly."

"Every Friday. Sometimes she'd -come by other times, pick up a couple things, but she was in every Friday morning. Ask me about my family, give me grief about prices-not bitchy," he said quickly. "Friendly like. Some people they come in here, never say a word to you, but not Mrs. Gregg. I find' the bastard..." He made an obscene gesture. "Finito. "

"You can leave that part to me. You ever notice anybody hanging around, look like he was watching her?"

"I see somebody bothering one of my customers, even if it ain't a regular, I move 'em along." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder like an umpire calling out a base runner. "I been here fifteen years. This is my place."

"There was 'a man, a couple of weeks ago. She helped him pick out some produce, struck up, a conversation."

"Just -like her." He pulled out the bandanna once more.

"He went out with her, carried her bags. Nice-looking guy, probably under forty."

"Mrs. Gregg, she was always talking to somebody in here. Let me think." He raked his hands though his thatch of salt-and-pepper hair, screwed up his narrow face. "Yeah, couple Fridays back, she took this guy udder her wing, picked out some nice grapes for him, some tomatoes, head of romaine, radishes, carrots, got a pound of peaches."

"Can you tell me as much about him as what he bought?"

Vincenti cracked his first smile. "Not so much. She brought him up with her-I always checked Mrs. Gregg out-and she says: `Now, Mr. Vincenti, I want you to take good care of my new friend, Al, when. he comes in here by himself. He's got a little boy who needs your best produce,' I say something like, `I got nothing but the best.'"

"What did he say?"

"Don't recall that he did. Smiled a lot. Had on a ball cap, now that I think. And sunshades. This heat, most everybody's got on a cap and shades."

"Tall, short?'

"Ah, damn me." He mopped at his sweatyy face with the bandanna now. "Taller than me, but who the hell isn't? I-top out at five six. We were busy, and -I wasn't paying much attention. She was doing all the talking, like always. She asked me to put some peaches aside for her the next week. She was going to her daughter's in -Jersey Sunday next, whole family deal, and she wanted to take her some peaches 'cause her girl had a fondness for them."

"She come in for them?"

"Sure, this past Friday. Five pounds. I put them in a little basket for her, let her take them home in it 'cause she's a good customer."

"The guy who went out with her, has he come back?"

"I haven't seen him again. I don't come in on Wednesdays, like to golf on Wednesdays, so he coulda come -in and I wouldn't know. But if he'd :core back any other day, I'm here. You think that's the guy? You think that's the sick prick who killed Mrs. Gregg?"

"Just covering the ground, Mr. Vincenti. I appreciate the help."

"You need any more, you need anything, you come see me. She was a jewel."

"You think he might be the killer," Peabody said as they walked the neighborhood, following the route Leah had outlined for them.

"I -think he was being a smart-ass, introducing himself with the name Al-Albert DeSalvo, the method he planned to use for her murder. I think it would have been a very smart way to feel her out, coming to the market, putting on the baffled. single-daddy routine. If he'd scoped out the area, looking for a woman, a single woman of her age group, spotted her, considered her while he was trolling, he'd have watched her routine, gotten her name, looked up her data, so he'd know she volunteered at a kid care place."

He knew how to research, Eve thought. Knew how to take his time, get the data, digest it before he made a move.

"A woman does time in day care, voluntarily, she's into kids, so he tells her he's got a kid when he makes his first contact."

She nodded as she spoke, as she studied the neighborhood. It was smart. It was simple. "Good place to make that contact is the market. Ask her for advice, give her a story about having a kid needing day care. Walk her part of the way home. Not all the way. He doesn't have to, he knows where she lives. Just like he knows her plans for Sunday. Next Sunday, the following, so he can have plenty of time to watch her, get it all down, plan it out, enjoy the anticipation."

She stopped on the corner, watched people walk by, most with the native New York stare that stopped well short of eye contact. Not a tourist sector, she acknowledged. People lived and worked here, went about their business.

"She'd have strolled, though," Eve said aloud. "Strolled along with him, chatting, giving him what seemed like harmless little details of her life. Peaches for her daughter, but there wasn't a basket of peaches in the apartment on Sunday. He took them. A nice edible souvenir to go with the ring. Walked out of her place after he did what he did, carrying a little basket of fruit. I bet he got a real kick out of that, really enjoyed taking a big juicy bite."

Feet planted, she. hooked her thumbs in her pockets, too intent on what she was seeing in her head to notice the quick and wary glances tossed her way when her stance revealed her weapon.

"But that's a mistake, a stupid, cocky mistake. People might not notice some guy walking out of an apartment building with a toolbox, but they , might, just might, notice one walking out with a basket of peaches and a toolbox."

She crossed ,the street, stood on the next comer, and judged the ground. "Glide-carts aren't going to be up and running that early on a Sunday, not around here. But. the newstands, the coffee shops, the delis, they would be. I want them canvassed. I want to know if anyone noticed a man in maintenance wear, carrying a toolbox and a friggin' basket of peaches."

"Yes, Sir. Lieutenant, I just want to say it's a real pleasure to watch you work."

"What're you angling for, Peabody?"

"No, seriously, it's an education to watch you, see what you see, and how you see it. But now that you mention it, it's pretty hot. Maybe we could, since they are up and running this time of day, get a' drink from the glide-cart there. I'm doing a- Wicked Witch of the West here."

"A what?

"You know... I'm melting."

With a half-Snort, Eve dug credits out of her pocket. "Get me a tube of Pepsi, and tell him if it's not cold I'm going to come over there and hurt him."

While Peabody clomped off, Eve stood on the corner, her imagination running. He'd have left her here, she decided. Most likely here, a couple, blocks short of the apartment. Had to part, ways on a come, makes the most sense. Probably told her he lived nearby, what he did for a living, little stories about his kid. Lies, all of them, if this was their man.

And every cell of the cop told her it was.

Southern, she thought. Had he told-her he was.from the South? Most likely. Used an accent, or had one. Used, she decided. Just another little flourish.

Peabody came back with the drinks, a scoop of fries, and a veggie kabob. "Got you the scoop, heavy on the salt, so you wouldn't sneer at my kabob."

"I can still sneer at a kabob. I'll always sneer at veggies on a stick." But she dug into the scoop. "We'll head down this way, swing into the dress shop. Maybe he paid a visit there, too.".

There were two clerks on duty at the boutique and both began to weep openly the minute Eve mentioned Lois's name. One of them went to the door, put up the Closed sign.

"I just can't take it in. I keep expecting her to walk in and tell us it was some sort of horrible joke." The tall clerk, with her greyhound's lithe body, patted her companion's back as the younger woman sobbed into her hands. "I was going to close the shop for the day, but I don't know what we'd do with ourselves."

"This your place?" Eve asked.

"Yes. Lois worked for me for ten years. She was great, with the staff, with the customers, with the stock. She could've run the place single-handedly if she'd wanted. I'm going to miss her so much."

"She was like a mother to me." The sobbing woman lifted her head. "1'm getting married in October, and she was helping me with so much of it. We were having the best time with all the plans, and now, now she won't be there."

"I know this is hard, but I need to ask you some quesdlubs.

"We want to help Don't we, Addy?"

"Anything." The woman got her sobbing under control. "Absolutely anything."

Eve took them through the usual questions, wound her way around to the man Vincenti had described.

"I don't remember anyone like that coming in recently. Addy?"

"No, at least not by himself. We get men who come in with their wives or girlfriends, and the occasional solo. But nobody like that in the past few weeks. No one Lois helped or talked to while I was working."

"How about someone who came in, asked about her?" "There was that man last week, no, the week before. Remember, Myra? He had on a totally mag suit, carried a Mark Cross briefcase."

"Yes, I remember. He said Lois had helped him the month before on some gifts for his wife, and they were such a big hit he'd stopped by to thank her."

"What did he look like?"

"Mmm. Late thirties, tall, nicely built, neat little goatee and wavy brown hair on the long side. He wore it tied back. He never took off his sunshades.

"Pradas, Continental style." Addy added. "I bought my fiance a pair. for his birthday. They cost a mint. He smelled like money, and had a clipped Yankee accent. Ivy League type, I thought.. I tried to steer him to accessories because he looked like he could afford to drop a bundle, and we've got some terrific new handbags, but he wasn't biting. Just said he'd hoped to give his thanks and regards to Mrs. Gregg. I said I was sorry she wasn't working today, because she'd have appreciated that. If he wanted to stop by again, he should shoot for Tuesday, Wednesday, or Saturday, and gave him her hours. Oh God." Her face went sheet-white; "Was that wrong?"

"No. This is just routine. Do you remember anything else?"

"No, he just said he'd try to come by again if he was in the area, and left. I just thought how nice that was, because customers don't usually bother, and the men sure don't."

They followed Leah's list and found that at every point there was someone who remembered a man, of subtly varied descriptions, who'd made: some casual inquiry about Lois Gregg..

"He stalked her," Eve said. "Gathering data, taking his time. Had a couple of weeks for it anyway. He was going to do Wooton first, and she was easy. All you have to do to pick an LC at her level is wander around and watch the stroll, zero in on one who fits your requirements. You don't have to worry about getting her alone because that's- her job, but with Lois, it had to be in her place to fit the imitation. She had to be home, she had to be alone, and not expecting anyone."

"He had to have plenty -of time," Peabody pointed. out. "Had to be able to hit the market on Friday, the boutique, the day care, the fitness center-all on weekdays, all during regular work hours. Doesn't sound like he's a nine-to-fiver." "No, and if we go back to our own list, anyone on it so far has the flexibility."