"You have a bruise on your jaw, sir."
"Yeah, and you have a flower in your buttonhole. So we both look stupid. Dickhead came through on the wigs and enhancements. I've got the brand names. You chase down outlets on them, Peabody, get me a consumer list. Cross-reference it with the one I've got on the wine. Roarke's getting me a list of the top shops for men in the city."
"Roarke has got it for you." He stepped into the office, held out a disc. "Good morning, class."
"Thanks." She passed it off to Peabody. "Our guy likes the good stuff. Designer shoes, tailored wardrobe. What do you call it?"
"Bespoke," Roarke supplied. "While he may purchase directly from London or Milan, the first suit was definitely British cut," he added. "The second certainly Italian, he'd be likely to patronize some of the high-end shops here in New York."
"Taking our fashion advisor at his word," Eve said dryly, "we run it through, see if anything pops. Unless he's got his own greenhouse, he's buying those pink roses from somewhere. Probability's high it's in his own neighborhood, and I'm betting that neighborhood is either Upper West Side or Upper East Side, so we look there first."
She glanced over, momentarily surprised when Roarke gave her a mug of fresh, hot coffee. "I've got a consult with Mira here in an hour. Feeney's at Central, directing the exam of the unit we impounded from Cyber Perks. I want answers, I want a trail, and I want it today. Because he's going to move again tonight. He has to."
She turned back to the screen where the killer's face sneered out at the crowd. "He's already got his next target."
She walked over to a board where she'd pinned photographs of both victims, the computer images of the killer as he'd looked before and after each murder.
"She'll be young," Eve said. "Early- to mid-twenties. She'll live alone. She'll be attractive and intelligent with an affection for poetry. She'll be romantic, and not currently in any serious relationship. She lives in the city. Works in the city. He's already seen her, studied her on the street or at her job. She may have spoken to him and not known he was the man who's been seducing her. She's probably thinking about tonight, about this date she has with a man who's exactly what she's waited for. In a few hours, she thinks, I'll meet him. And maybe, just maybe…"
She turned away from the board. "Let's keep her alive. I don't want to see another face on this board."
"A moment of your time, Lieutenant?" Roarke gestured to his office, stepped out himself before she could put him off.
"Look, I'm on the clock here."
"Then why waste time." He shut the door behind her. "I can get you those consumer lists, have them cross-referenced and complete in a fraction of the time it would take Peabody."
"Haven't you got work?"
"Considerable, yes. It would still take me less time." He skimmed a fingertip over the bruise on her jaw, then lightly along the shallow dent in her chin. "I find I prefer having my mind fully occupied just now. And," he added. "I'd rather not see another face on your murder board either. I intend to do it anyway, but I thought you might feel less annoyed if I made the pretense of asking."
She scowled at him, folded her arms. "Pretense?"
"Yes, darling." He kissed the bruise. "And this way, as you know what I'm up to, it frees you to have Peabody along with you in the field, wherever that might be." His in-house communication panel beeped. "Yes?"
"A Dr. Dimatto is here to see Lieutenant Dallas."
"Send her up," Eve ordered. "Do what you're going to do," she told Roarke. "But for right now I'm going with the pretense that I don't know about it."
"Whatever works for you. I'm just going to take a minute to set some things up. Then I'd like to say hello to Louise."
"Suit yourself." She opened the door, glanced back. "You generally do."
"That's what makes me such a contented man."
She gave a rude snort and crossed into her office to greet Louise.
She came in fast, but Eve had rarely seen her move another way. She took one look at the coffee in Eve's hand and smiled. "Yes, I'd love some, thanks."
"Peabody, coffee for Dr. Dimatto. Anything else we can get you?"
Louise stared at the danish McNab was currently trying to swallow whole. "Is that an apple danish?"
With his mouth stuffed, he made some sound, a mixture of affirmation, pleasure, and guilt.
"Love one, too, thanks again."
Eve swept a glance over Louise's snappy red suit. "You don't look dressed for seeing patients, Doc."
"I have a meeting. Fundraiser." Diamonds twinkled at her ears when she tilted her head. "You tend to squeeze out more money when you look like you don't need it. Go figure. In any case… thank you, Peabody. Mind if I sit?" She did, crossing her legs, balancing the plate with the danish expertly on her knee as she took her first sip of coffee.
She heaved a long sigh before she sipped again. "Where do you get this stuff? It has to be illegal."
"Roarke."
"Naturally." She broke off a tidy corner of the danish.
"Have you got a reason for dropping by, Louise, other than a little coffee break? We're a little busy here."
"I'm sure you are." She nodded toward the board. "I asked about Bryna Bankhead in my building. She knew everyone on her floor, and several others. She was very well liked. She'd lived there three years. She dated fairly regularly, but no one serious."
"I know all that. Thinking of giving up medicine for police work?"
"She lived there for three years," Louise repeated, and the humor had died from her voice. "I've lived there for two. She fell on the sidewalk at my feet. I'd never had a conversation with her."
"Feeling guilty over that won't change what happened to her."
"No." Louise broke off another bite. "But it made me think. And it made me more inclined to work harder to get any information for you that might help your investigation. There was a research project at J. Forrester. That's a private, fairly exclusive clinic that specializes in sexual dysfunctions, relations, fertility issues. Nearly twenty-five years ago, J. Forrester formed a partnership with Allegany Pharmaceuticals to research, study, and develop various chemical products that could alleviate dysfunction and enhance performance, sexually speaking. Many top chemists and R and D people were involved or associated with the project."
"Testing with elements found in the controlled substances known as Whore and Wild Rabbit."
"Those, others, combinations. They did, in fact, develop the drug trademarked as Matigol, which has helped extend sexual performance ability in men well past the century mark, and the fertility drug Compax, which allows women to safely conceive and give birth into their fifties should they desire it."
She nibbled on the danish. "Both these drugs have a very high success rate, but are extremely expensive and therefore largely inaccessible to your average consumer. But for those who can afford it, they're a miracle."
"Do you have the names of the players?"
"I'm not finished." She turned her head, shot out a sunny smile as Roarke walked in. "Good morning."
"Louise." He went to her, lifted her hand to his lips. "You look lovely, as always."
"Yeah, yeah, blah blah. What?" Eve demanded. "What else?"
"Your wife is rude and impatient."
"That's why I love her. By the way, Lieutenant, Charles Monroe is on his way upstairs."
"What is this? A convention?" But as she spoke she aimed one hard, warning look at McNab. His eyes glittered back at her, and he managed to hold the look for a good five seconds before he dropped his gaze, sulkily. "You, get me some data on J. Forrester and Allegany Pharmaceuticals."
She clenched her jaw, which sent it throbbing as she caught the interest flicker over Roarke's face. "Damn it."
"I bought out Allegany, eight, no, I believe it was ten months ago. What's the connection?"
"I don't know precisely, because the doc here's being coy."