“You run Unger?”
“Had Trueheart do it while we waited for the lunchtime quickie to run its course. She’s a fashion designer. Thirty-two, single. No criminal. Currently employed with Mirandi’s second label arm. They’re New York-based.”
“Question: Your woman cheats on you with another woman. Better or worse than her diddling with a guy?”
“Oh, worse. Bad enough she’s playing you, but she’s doing it without a dick, which means she doesn’t think too much of your equipment. It’s a guy, you can maybe rationalize it some. You know, he took advantage of her, or she had a moment of weakness.”
“Took advantage of her.” Eve snorted. “Men are really sad and simple.”
“Please, a boy needs his illusions. Anyway, it’s another skirt, she had to go looking, and she had to go looking for something you don’t have. Makes you a double loser.”
“Yeah, that’s how I see it. It’s going to give you a real hard-on against women. So to speak. We’re going to want to find out how long Julietta’s been going girl-on-girl.”
He set the empty mug down and linked his hands in a gesture of prayer. “Please, please, please, let me do it. I never get the fun stuff.”
“I need subtle on this.”
“My middle name.”
“I thought your middle name was Hornydog.”
“That’s my first middle name,” he said with some dignity. “Come on, Dallas, how about it?”
“Play ring-around-a-rosie with Unger. Talk to the staff at the hotel and keep the bribes to a minimum. Budget’s not going to stretch if you keep slapping down fifties. Talk to her neighbors. Sniff around her place of employment. She’s going to get wind of it, so keep the reason for the look-see quiet. Subtle, Baxter, seriously. I’ve got to do an out-of-town. If I get lucky, I’ll be back in tomorrow. If not, it may take another day.”
“You can leave this in my very capable hands. Oh, and I won’t put in for the fifty,” he said as he started out. “It was worth the price of the ticket.”
He’d handle it, she thought. She couldn’t be in Boston, New L.A., and poking around Serena Unger in New York at the same time. Baxter could work that angle, Feeney the like-crimes area, and she’d pursue other potential leads.
It appeared she’d put together a team without intending to.
Now, she thought, she was about to add another member. And it would be her turn to play it subtle.
She didn’t expect to get through to Roarke on the first try, but the great god of meetings must have decided to cut her a break. His admin passed her on to him, with the polite comment that he’d just returned from a business lunch.
“So what’d you, eat?” she asked when he came on.
“Chef’s salad. How about you?”
“I’m getting something in a minute. You got any business in Boston?”
“I could have. Why?”
“I’ve got to make a run up there, maybe out to the West Coast. Check out some things. I don’t want to take Peabody. She’s got the exam day after tomorrow. She needs to stay here, plus I can’t be a hundred percent I’ll be back on time for her to make it. Thought you might want to tag along.”
“I might. When?”
“ASAP.”
“This wouldn’t be a maneuver to avoid Summerset’s return?”
“No, but it’s a handy side benny. Look, you want to go or not?”
“I have to do some shuffling.” He angled away, and she saw him dance his fingers over a small keyboard. “I need… two hours will do it.”
“That works for me.” Now came the tricky part. “I’ll meet you at the Newark transpo center, say seventeen hundred. We’ll grab a shuttle there.”
“Public transpo? And at five o’clock? I don’t think so.”
She just loved the way he sneered. “Timing can’t be helped,” she began.
“Accommodations can. We’ll take one of my shuttles.”
Which was exactly what she’d expected him to say. Thank God. The last thing she wanted was to squeeze on to a commuter sweatbox and deal with the inevitable delays and poor hygiene. But she knew how to play the game, and gave him an obligatory scowl.
“Look, pal, this is police business. You’re just along for the ride, and possible out-of-town nookie.”
“All nookie is appreciated, but the method of transpo’s a deal breaker. I’ll pick you up when I arrange things here. And if you argue, you’ll just put me behind.” He checked his wrist unit. “I’ll let you know when I’m on my way.” And clicked off.
That, she thought, went perfectly.
– -«»--«»--«»--
Shortly after five she was seated comfortably in Roarke’s private shuttle, nibbling on strawberries and studying her notes in the fragrant cool. As rides went, it beat the hell out of the public sardine cans.
“You can go along for the interview with Roberta Gable,” she told Roarke. “But then I have to ditch you. I talked to the primary with Boston PD, and he’ll take a meet with me, but he’s cranky about it. I bring a civilian along, he’s going to get crankier.”
“I believe I can find something to occupy me.” He was working manually at one of the onboard computers and didn’t glance up.
“Figure you will, and I also figure that the shuffling you did had to be fast and furious. Thanks.”
“I expect to be paid in out-of-town nookie at the first opportunity.”
“You’re a cheap date, Roarke.”
He smiled, but kept on working. “We’ll see about that. Oh, and by the way, your token protest about taking my shuttle lacked a certain panache. You might put a little more effort into it next time.”
She bit down on a strawberry. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” And was saved from further comment by the beep of her ‘link. “Dallas.”
“Hey, kid, got a couple bumps. Figured you’d want to know while you were in transit.” Feeney’s droopy eyes narrowed. “You eating strawberries?”
“Maybe.” She swallowed guiltily. “I missed lunch. So what? Give.”
“First one’s messy, maybe too messy to be our guy. Mutilated body of an LC, female, twenty-eight, fished out of the river. The Seine. That’s gay Paree. Three years ago June. Cut to pieces, with liver and kidneys missing. Throat cut, and a number of defensive wounds on forearms. She was in the river too long for them to recover any trace evidence, had there been any. Investigation dead-ended, and the case remains open.”
“Any suspects?”
“Investigator pushed on the last John on her books, but it didn’t pan out. Did a press on her coordinator, too, who’s got a known for roughing up his employees, but that fizzled out, too.”
“Okay. What else?”
“Two years ago, London, Ripper-style murder in Whitechapel sector. Junked up LC who slipped through the tox screenings. She was thirty-six, had two female roommates of the same occupation. They tried to finger her on-again, off-again boyfriend for it, but he was alibied tight. Looks clear to me.”
“How’d he do her?”
“Slit her throat. Went for her works again, and said works were not recovered on the scene. He also cut her up. Slashes over the breasts, palms of both hands. Investigator puts it down to lust kill. But the ME’s got an interesting note here, and looking it over, I lean toward him. Says the slashes on breasts and palms were like an afterthought. No passion to them. You got one witness says he saw the vic head off with a guy dressed in a black cape and a fancy hat. Since the witness was trashed on Zoner, the investigator didn’t put much faith in his statement.”
“It fits,” Eve told him. “You know, it fits. He dressed like DeSalvo did for the strangulations, in handyman garb. Why wouldn’t he costume himself up for the Ripper? Thanks, Feeney. Shoot the files to my office unit, copy to my home unit. I’m hoping to be back within twenty-four hours.”