Imitation in Death (44 page)

"Heading out to dinner. Soup to nuts. He'll pay cash. He always pays cash. He'll linger over it until nearly midnight, then he'll take a long walk. Marsonini didn't drive, and rarely took cabs. He'll walk here, juicing himself up, block by block."

"How did they catch him?" He knew, but he wanted Eve to say it, to talk it out.

"His intended victim lived in a loft, not so different than this. Makes sense. One of her friends had a major fight with her boyfriend, and came over to cry on Lisel's-that was her name-came over to cry on her shoulder or whatever women do."

"Eat strawberry ice cream."

"Shut up. So the friend finally cried it out and bunked on the sofa. It was the music that woke her up. She hadn't heard him come in-apparently they'd killed a bottle of cheap wine or brew. Something. Marsonini hadn't spotted her sleeping there, which was a break. So the friend goes-toward the bedroom to see about the music. Lisel wasalready bound, gagged, with a broken kneecap. Marsonini was naked. His back was to the doorway. He was climbing onto the bed, getting ready to rape Lisel."

She knew what had been in the victim's head,-swimming over the pain. She knew that the awful terror of what was to come was worse, so much worse than pain.

"The friend kept her head," Eve continued. "She ran back to the living room, called nine-one-one, then hurried back to the bedroom, picked up this bat he'd used to break Lisel's kneecap, and she whaled on him. Fractured his skull, broke his jaw, his nose, his elbow. By the time the cops got _there, Marsonini was unconscious and in a sorry state. She'd untied Lisel, covered her up, and was holding a knife to the bastard's throat, hoping-she said in her statement-he'd come around so she could stick it in his gullet."

"I'd say it stuck in his gullet that a woman stopped him."

Her lips quirked a little, because she understood. "I'm counting on it. He died in prison two, years later when an unidentified inmate or guard castrated him and left him lying in his own cage. Bled to death."

She breathed deep, found- it had helped to talk it through. "I'm going to make the rounds. You've got two hours to stretch your legs around here, then we tuck in. And we wait."

At midnight, she hauled a stool into the closet. She kept the door open to anangle that gave her a view of the bed, and Peabody's upper half.

The apartment was full dark, and silent.

"Peabody, check your communicator every fifteen, until I order radio silence. I don't want you nodding off in there." "Lieutenant, I couldn't fall asleep if you gave me a high powered soother. I'm revved."

"Do the checks. Stay icy." ,

What if I'm wrong? she asked herself. If he changed targets, changed methods, got a whiff of me? If he doesn't come tonight, will he kill randomly or just rabbit? Does he have a back door? An emergency route, emergency funds, and ID?

He'll come, she assured herself. And if he doesn't, I'll track him.

She ran through her own checks, got the all-quiet from the street teams, the house teams. After an hour, she stood up to stretch and keep herself limber.

After two, she felt her blood begin to pump. He was coming. She knew he was coming seconds before her communicator hissed in her ear.

"Possible sighting. Lone male, proceeding south toward building. Six-two, a hundred and ninety. Light-colored suit and dark tie. He's carrying a briefcase."

"Observe only. Don't approach. Feeney, you copy?"

"Loud and clear."

"McNab?"

"We're on it."

"Looks like a false alarm. He's moving past the building, continuing south. Wait... He's watching, that's what he's doing. Scoping things out, checking the street. He's turning back, approaching the building again. Something in his hand. Might be a security jammer. Turning in. He's heading in, Lieutenant."

"Stay in the vehicle. Wait for my command. Peabody?"

"I'm ready." -

Eve saw the slight movement in the bed, and knew Peabody had her stunner in her hand.

"Feeney, you and the civilian stay behind those doors until I clear it. I want him all the way in. McNab, I want that elevator shut down the minute he's through the door, and your team out and blocking the hall a second after that. Copy?"

"You've got it. How's my sex queen?"

"I beg your pardon, Detective?"

"Um... Question directed at Officer Peabody, Lieutenant!,

"No personal communications or stupid-ass remarks, for sweet Christ's sake. Give me a twenty on the suspect."

"He's using the stairs, sir. Moving between second and third floor. I've got a good clear view of his face, Dallas. Positive ID for Niles Renquist. Moving to your door now. Taking out a keycode. He's through, and -in."

"Move now," Eve said in a whisper. "All units close in now, and hold."

She couldn't hear him. Not yet. So she brought him into her head. Marsonini always removed his shoes before entering the bedroom. Shoes and socks. He would leave them neatly beside the entrance door, then take off the shades, put on the night- vision goggles. With them, hee could move through the dark like a cat. Then he could' stand over the victim, watching her sleep before he pounced.

Eve drew her weapon. Waited.

She heard the faintest creak of the floorboard, and willed him to come on, come on, you son of a bitch.

Then with her eyes long adjusted to the dark, she saw the shape of him, saw him stroke a hand gently over Peabody's back.

She kicked the door open. "Lights!" She shouted.

He whirled, with the goggles blinding him now. The bat was in his hand, and he swung out with it, toward the sound of her voice even as he ripped the goggles away.

"Police. Drop the weapon! Drop your weapon and freeze or I will drop you."

His eyes were huge, blinking madly. But she saw the instant he recognized her and understood. She saw all his plans, his victories, drain out of his head. "Filthy cunt."

"Come on then." She lowered her weapon, then stabbed a warning finger toward the doorway when Roarke shoved in with Feeney behind him. "Don't do it," she snapped at them.

Renquist howled, threw the bat at her, then leaped.

She shifted, let the. metal glance off her shoulder. Because it was more satisfying than a stun, she used her body, tucking to drive that same shoulder into his gut, her knee to his groin. And when he started to fold, her fist found its way to the underside of his jaw.

"That last one was for Marlene Cox," Eve muttered.

She planted her foot on the small of his back as she pulled out her restraints. "Hands behind you, you bucket of puke."

"I'll kill you. I'll kill all of you." Blood trickled out of his mouth as he struggled. His eyes went wide and wild when Eve yanked the wig away.

"Keep your hands off me, you revolting bitch. Do you know who I am?"

"Yeah, I know just who you are." She flipped him over because she wanted. him to see her. She wanted him to look at her face. The hate was there, the sort she'd seen before. The kind of bone-deep loathing she'd seen in the eyes of her own mother.

But seeing it ,now brought her only satisfaction.

"Do you know who I am, Niles? I'm the woman, the revolting bitch,' the filthy cunt who's kicked your sorry ass. I'm the one who's going to lock the cage on you."

"You'll never put me away." Tears began to shimmer in his eyes. "You won't lock me in the dark again."

"You're already gone. And when Breen writes about this one, he'll make careful note that it was a woman who beat you.

He began to wail and to weep. She would've said like a woman, but it would've been an insult to her entire sex.

"Read him his rights," she told Peabody, who'd emerged from the bed in full uniform. "Have him transported to Central and booked. You know the drill."

"Yes, sir. Do you wish to accompany the prisoner?"

"I'll settle things here and follow you in. I think you should be able to handle him, Detective."

"I think a ten-year-old boy could handle him in this shape, sir." She shook her head as Renquist continued to sob and drum his feet like a child in the throes of, a tantrum. Then her head snapped up. "What? What did you say?"

"Do I have to repeat a standard order for prisoner procedureT'

"No. No, sir. Did you... did you say `detective'?"

"Something wrong with your ears? Oh, by the way, congratulations. Suspect is contained and in custody," she said into her communicator as she walked from the room. She paused only long enough to wink at Roarke. "All units, stand down. Nice Job."

"Go ahead," Feeney said to Peabody as she stood shellshocked with McNab's kissing noises and applause ringing in her earpiece. "I've got this bag of shit."

With a little whoop, Peabody leaped over Renquist. `Dallas! Are you sure? Really, really sure? The results aren't posted until tomorrow."

"Why aren't you following my direct order re the prisoner?"

"Please. "

"Jesus, what a baby." But it took every ounce of will to hold back the grin. "I've got some pull. I used it. Results will be posted at oh eight hundred. You placed twenty-sixth, which isn't shabby. They're taking a full hundred, so you're in. You could've done better on the sims."

"I knew it."

"But you did good.` All in all you did good. The standard ceremony will be at noon, day after tomorrow, You will not cry during the cleanup of an operation," she said when Peabody's eyes teared up.

"I won't. Okay." Peabody threw open herarms, lurched forward.

Eve backpedaled. "No kissing! Mother of God. You get a handshake. A handshake." She stuck out her hand in defense. "That's it."

"Yes, sir. Yes, sir." She took Eve's hand, pumped it. "Oh screw it," she said, and wrapped her arms tightly enough around Eve to crack ribs. _

"Get off me, you maniac." But now it was touch and go whether she could hold back the laugh. "Go jump McNab. I'll transport the damn prisoner."

"Thanks. Oh man, oh boy, thanks!" She started to run for the door when it flew open. McNab caught her-and Eve had to give him credit for keeping his feet-in mid-air.

Rolling her eyes for form, she walked back into the bedroom.

"I'll load him up," Feeney told her. "Let the girl have time to do her victory dance."

"I'll be right behind you."

"You'll be sorry." Renquist's eyes were still streaming, but the fury was in them again, lighting the tears. "Very sorry."

She stepped up, into his face, let the silence hang until she saw fear eat away at the anger. "I knew it was you, the first time I saw you. I saw what you were. Do you know what you are, Niles? Pitiful and weak, a coward who hid behind other cowards because he didn't even have the balls to be himself when he killed innocents. Do you know why I ordered my detective to take you in? Because you're not worth another minute of my time. You're over."

She turned away when he began to weep again. "Give me a lift, sailor," she said to Roarke.

"It would be my pleasure." He took her hand when they reached the door, and tightened his grip when she hissed and tried to shake him off.

'Too late to worry about such things now. You winked at me during an operation."

"I certainly did nothing of the kind." She folded her lips, primly. "Maybe I had something in my eye."

"Let's have a look." He backed her up against the wall of the hallway, and laughed when she swore at him.

"No, I don't see a thing, except those big, gorgeous cop's eyes." He kissed her between them. "Peabody's not the only one who did good today."

"I did the job. That's good enough for me.". Two days later, she read Mira's preliminary psych report on Niles Renquist. Then she leaned back, stared at the ceiling. It was an interesting ploy, she mused. If his defense team was good enough, he might just pull it off. She looked to the vase of flowers on her desk-sent that morning by Marlene Cox, via her mother. Instead of embarrassing her as they might have done, they pleased her.

Whatever the ploy, justice would be served. Niles Renquist would never see freedom again. And she had a decent shot at nailing his wife as accessory after the fact.

At least the PA had agreed to press for it, and that would have to be enough.

If she succeeded there, she was orphaning a young girl, deliberately seeing to it that a five-year-old child was without mother or father. Rising,. she walked to the window. But _ some children were better, off, weren't they, without a certain type of parent?

How the hell did she know. She dragged a hand through her hair, scrubbed them both over' her face. She could only do the job and hope when the dust settled, it was right.

It felt right.

She heard her knob turn, then the knock. She'd locked it, pointedly, and now checked the time. Rolling her shoulders, she picked up her bap, set it in place.

When she opened the door she saw the rare jolt of shock on Roarke's face, then the interest, then the gleam that had color rising up on her neck.

"What are you staring at?"

"I'm not entirely sure." He stepped in before she could step out, then closed the door behind him.

"We've got to go. The ceremony starts in fifteen."

"And it's a five-minute walk. Turn around once."

"I will not." Another few seconds, she figured, and that damn flush would hit her cheeks. Mortifying her. "You've seen a cop in uniform before."

"I've never seen my cop in uniform before. I didn't know you had one."

"Of course I've got one. We've all got one. I just never wear it. But this is... important, that's all."

"You look...." He traced one of her shiny brass buttons. ",.. amazing. Very sexy."

"Oh, get out."

"Seriously." He leaned back to take it in. That long, lanky form did wonders, he thought, for the spit and polish, the crisp formal blues.

Medals, earned in the line of duty, glinted against the stiff jacket. She'd shined her black cop shoes-which he now imagined she'd kept buried in her locker-to mirror gleams. She wore her weapon at her hip, and her cap squared off on her short hair.

"Lieutenant," he said with a purr in his voice. "You've got to wear that home."

"Why?"

He grinned. "Guess."