The In Death Collection Books 16-20 - J. D. Robb [216]
“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 fiancé 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.”
She’d tugged Baxter and Trueheart out to do the neighborhood canvass, and was hoping to get a call any minute telling her they’d found someone who’d seen the killer with his souvenir basket of peaches.
Meanwhile, she had to keep it moving. He’d killed twice, and she was certain he’d already selected his next victim.
She left Peabody to do the deeper runs on Breen and his wife, and headed out to beg or bribe a short consult with Mira.
She had to wait, and pace the outer office, and ask herself, yet again, who their deadly mimic might imitate next.
So far he’d picked two notorious and deceased killers, and she was willing to bet he’d stick to pattern. No one, she thought, who was still among the living. The Ripper had never been caught, DeSalvo had died in prison. So capture and incarceration were okay. That left the field pretty wide, even excluding anyone who’d destroyed or hidden or consumed their victims.
Her communicator beeped as she was staring holes through Mira’s door and willing it to open.
“Dallas.”
“Baxter. I think we’ve got one for you, Dallas. A witness from the neighboring building who was heading out to church and saw a guy in a city maintenance uniform—or so she believes—walking out of the vic’s building carrying a toolbox and a plastic fruit basket.”
“Time right?”
“It’s dead on. Our witness knew Gregg. She insists on coming downtown and talking to the primary personally.”
“Bring her on.”
“We’re heading back. I’ll meet you in the break room.”
“My office—”
“Break room,” he insisted. “Some of us haven’t eaten our lunch as yet.”
She